Page 31 of Truck You

I glare at him. “No shit, Sherlock.”

The furrow in his brow deepens. “Then why are you putting it up on the lift already?”

“Do you see the lift rising?” I place my hands on my hips and stare up at him. When he’s standing like that, he looks so tall. And mean. He hasn’t smiled once all week.

Every day has been the same. He hovers over my every move as if I’m going to make a critical mistake. Sometimes he says nothing. Just grunts or hums, making it known that he doesn’t like what he sees. And other times—like now—he tries to tell me I don’t know what I’m doing.

I’ve yet to make a single mistake. Although he’d never admit that.

“No.” He finally answers. “But you’re setting up the lift. You’re not ready for that.”

“I can do my tasks in any order I see fit. I’ve got this. You can go.” I grab the torque wrench and turn back to the car I’m working on. Changing these brake pads will go a lot faster if he’d stop watching my every move.

I pull the wheel lock key from where I stashed it in my pocket and affix it to the wrench. My hand slips, and it slides from my grip and bounces on the floor. I scrabble to grab it, but it rolls out of my reach. When I stand to look for where it went, Mac is standing closer to me with his hand held out.

His stare is hard and fierce, as if he’s trying to burn a hole right through me. If I weren’t so pissed at him, it might actually scare me, but there’s no bite behind his bark. He’s just being a big baby.

I reach for the wheel lock key, but he closes his hand around it. “Need some help?”

“No, I don’t need your help.” I growl at him, and he snorts his disbelief.

“You look like you could use it.” His words are laced with contempt. It makes me want to junk punch him.

“Just give me that.” I grab his wrist and hold his hand still so I can pry it open, and I hate how my body vibrates with need from this simple touch. I want to hate him, not want him.

Thankfully, he doesn’t resist. He’s way stronger than me, and if he wanted, he could make sure I never got this back from him.

“You two bicker like you’re a couple, you know that?” Ash teases from the other side of the garage. “It’s cute.”

He and Chase have been working on the car Mac crashed on Monday. They have to rebuild the engine—something I hope they let me learn from—and the body damage is severe. It’s going to take a lot to get that car operational again.

“He wishes we were a couple.” I huff.

“The hell I do.” Mac’s gravelly retort sends a tremor through my body. I glance up at him, and he’s way too close. The gold flecks in his deep chocolate brown eyes catch the light like tiny little twinkle lights. His lip twitches, and God help me, I want to kiss him.

“Then why are you hovering over me like I need your protection?”

“I’m notprotectingyou.” He scoffs. “I’mwatchingyou.”

I poke him in the chest with my finger. His behavior is irritating and infuriating and annoyingly hot all at the same time. I hate him for it.

“Andwhyare you watching me?” I retort.

He takes a step closer, crowding my personal space, and my body instantly heats.Please don’t let my skin turn red. Please, please, please.

I hate that my body is attracted to him. How did we go from making out in a dark alley at the Apple Festival to growling and bickering like rivals?

“Because I don’t trust you.” His lip curls up on one side, and it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. Why? I don’t know because he looks really fucking angry.

Pressing up on my tiptoes, I get right in his face. “You’re an idiot. You know that?”

“I may be an idiot, but at least I’m not a liar.” His face is so close to mine, our lips almost touch. The slightest bump or movement and we would be kissing.

“Should we leave and give you two some privacy?” I jump back at the sound of Christian’s voice. It’s rough and raspy, like it hurts for him to use it. He so rarely speaks, it probably does.

Mac straightens and clears his throat. He shakes his head, and his eyes look a little dazed, like he just now realizes how close he was to me. Then his expression turns back to armored steel.

“Why would we need privacy?” he asks. His voice is devoid of all emotion, and for some reason, that pisses me off even more. I want him to feel everything I’m feeling so he can be just as confused as me.

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