Page 50 of Truck You

Just as I slide under the car to replace the drain plug for the oil change, the music shuts off.

“Christian? Is that you?” I call out from under the car. I hear footsteps, but no one answers.

“Christian?” I call again. “Or is that you, Liam?”

“No, it’s me.” I shudder at the sound of Mac’s voice. We haven’t talked since he bolted on me Friday night. I hoped I’d make it through this day without seeing him too. I’m not ready to deal with all the emotions I have where he’s concerned.

I slide out from under the car to find him looming over me with his arms crossed over his chest. He’s playing the damn sentinel again.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

His eyes narrow. “Um, I work here.”

I huff. “That’s not what I mean. I didn’t think you’d be in today.”

“Where is everyone?” he asks, choosing to ignore my question.

Pushing to my feet, I wipe my hands before I grab the oil for the car. “Christian is delivering a custom build, and Liam had some errands to run.”

“And he left you here alone?” His words sound harsh and accusatory.

“Yes.” I bark in reply. “Why are you here? I thought you were at the track with Ash and Chase all day.”

“I was, and now I’m here.”

“Again, I’m gonna ask you why?”

He scoffs and runs his fingers through his hair. “You drive me fucking crazy. You know that?”

“Well, the feeling is mutual, asshole.”

He steps closer to me, blocking the light from under the hood, so I back away. “I think a better question is, why areyouhere?”

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “BecauseIwork here.”

“Don’t be a smart ass. You know that’s not what I’m asking.”

“Then maybe I need you to be more specific. Really spell things out for me, so I understand.”

“Why are you inmytown, working inmygarage? You could have taken a job anywhere. Whyhere?”

I slam the wrench down on the bench and storm at him. “No, I couldn’t. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a garage willing to hire a female mechanic or a racing team willing to let me learn from them?”

When he doesn’t answer, I take another step toward him. “No. Why would you? You’re. A. Man. No one ever questionsyourability.”

His nostrils flare as he eliminates the remaining space between us. “I’m not questioning your ability. You already proved you can drive and that you’re competent under the hood. I want to know whyus? Why the Mutters?”

“Because I admire you and your work!” I yell, exhausted from going in circles with this man. “Everyone in the business knows your brothers make some of the best race cars on the track. And you?” I poke him in the chest, and it’s like poking a boulder. Hard. Solid. Immovable. “You’re one of the best drivers I’ve ever watched. I wanted to learn from you and them. Why is that so hard for you to believe?”

He leans down so he’s eye level with me. “Then why did you lie to me?”

“I didn’t lie!” I grind out through clenched teeth.

A low rumbling sound rolls up and out of his chest. His eyes shift from mine to my lips. I’m panting from frustration and this sexual tension that’s surrounded us since the first night we met.

I want to push him away. Tell him to leave me alone. But I don’t.

Instead, I slide my hands around his neck and cover his mouth with mine.

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