Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Wyatt
The garage door is standing wide open, and I can already feel the headache forming behind my eyes.
I trudge toward it, muttering under my breath.
They know the barn cats will get in there, get stuck behind the tool chests, and piss all over everything again.
I’ve told the guys a thousand times, keep the damn doors shut.
I round the corner into the cool shade of the garage, ready to bark a reprimand at whoever left the light on, but I stop dead in my tracks. I’m speechless, well and truly. I feel the heat start to creep from my groin, all the way up to my neck.
Emily is bent over the hood of that ridiculous blue car.
She’s in those tiny blue shorts again, and her hair is tied up in a messy knot again with a few strands framing her perfect face.
It’s too damn pretty to be unintentional.
She pulls the dipstick out with a practiced flick of her wrist, wiping it on a rag as she turns around.
When she meets my eyes, my heart thumps against my ribs.
“Sorry,” I say, clearing my throat and trying to find my footing. “I didn’t know anyone was in here. Thought someone had left the door open by accident.”
She grins. There’s a streak of grease smudged across her cheekbone. “Just giving the go-kart an oil change. She was overdue.”
I shake my head, looking from the high-tech engine to the woman holding the rag. “You really are an enigma, Emily,” I say, narrowing my eyes.
She arches an eyebrow, her eyes dancing. “Why? Because I can put on lip gloss and service a vehicle? God, you men really can’t see past the boobs and the blonde hair, can you?”
“That’s not what I meant.” I laugh, the sound surprises even me.
I shake my head, but great—now I’m looking at her boobs, again.
I mean, there’s no hiding those things. They are…
ample, shall we say, and the tank top she’s wearing isn’t doing much to hide the fact that the cool air from the fan has made her nipples hard.
I can’t help but wonder if it’s the temperature or if she’s having the same thoughts I am right now.
She catches me looking and bites her lip, a slow, knowing smile spreads across her face. She knows she’s rattling my cage, and I get the distinct feeling she gets a kick out of watching me struggle for air these past few days.
I look back at the car, desperate for a distraction. “This thing really is the most ridiculous vehicle I’ve ever seen. You really know how to make a statement.”
“Excuse me?” she says, leaning back against the fender with a mock offended look. “There are only three others like this in the world. It’s got a custom-tuned engine, a custom-body kit, carbon fiber, and it handles like a dream. I wanted something a little different. I’ve always been that way.”
Her expression softens as her gaze turns toward the house. “Dad always said life is too short not to choose things you love. He’s dying proof of that.”
There’s a heaviness in what she says, which serves as a reminder of why she’s really here. I study her for a moment, not just her body, the grease on her face feels just as beautiful as the satin skirt she wore at dinner.
“Yeah,” I respond, my voice dropping a register. “I think we’ve all been reminded of that along the way, Emily.”
I shift my weight, trying to focus on anything other than the way she’s leaning against that fender. “Did Alex get to school okay?”
“Yeah,” she says, though a playful, cat-like glint enters her eyes. She starts cleaning the dipstick again, her movements second nature. “But today he asked me if I could drop him off down the street instead of at the front gates.”
I frown. “Down the street? Why? He was full of it the other day.”
Emily lets out a short, melodic laugh and tosses the rag onto the workbench. “Apparently, some of the other kids’ dads have noticed the new nanny. Alex told me that his friend Jimmy said his dad thinks I’m hot.”
The pumping blood in my veins goes from zero to a hundred in a heartbeat.
It’s an immediate, sharp flare of possessive heat that catches me completely off guard.
I can picture it perfectly, a bunch of bored local dads loitering by the school fence, gawking at her like she’s a prize mare while my son is standing right there.
“Jimmy’s dad needs to keep his eyes on his own driveway,” I growl. The words are out before I can filter them, jaw tightening so hard it aches.
Emily’s grin widens. She doesn’t look offended. She looks like she’s enjoying the show. She takes a step toward me, crossing her arms over her chest, which only serves to emphasize exactly what Jimmy’s dad was talking about.
“Jealous, Wyatt?” she teases, her voice dropping into that low, silky register that makes my skin itch. “I didn’t realize the Miller brothers were so protective of the help.”
“I’m not jealous,” I lie, the word sitting uncomfortably in my mouth. “I just don’t want my son hearing that kind of talk at the school gates. It’s disrespectful.”
“Right. Disrespectful,” she echoes, stepping an inch closer. I can smell the oil, the heat of her skin, and that faint hint of vanilla again. It’s a lethal combination. “Well, don’t worry. I told Alex that Jimmy’s dad has terrible taste in trucks, so his opinion doesn’t count for much anyway.”
I can’t help it. A reluctant chuckle breaks through my irritation. “You told a ten-year-old that?”
“Hey, I’m an engineer,” she says, tapping her temple. “I know a bad build when I see one. Whether it’s a truck…or a man.”
She holds my gaze for a second too long, and the air in the garage suddenly feels ten degrees hotter. I’m staring at the smudge of grease on her cheek, with the urge to reach out, to rub it away with my thumb and feel the softness of her skin. It’s overpowering all my senses.
Thankfully, the tension is shattered by the sound of the side door banging open. Kassie bursts in, wearing her power blazer and holding her cellphone, looking far too energetic for a Friday morning.
“Oh, this is cozy,” she practically sings, her eyes darting between Emily and me with a knowing glint. “Em, I thought I’d find you in here. And Wyatt, I should have guessed you wouldn’t be far behind.”
I shake my head, rolling my eyes at my sister’s lack of a filter. Emily giggles, wiping a smudge of grease from her forearm. “What’s up, Kass?”
“Some of the wranglers and I decided we’re long overdue for a night out. We need to welcome you back to the fold properly, so we’re taking you to The Rusty Nail tonight. No protesting.” Kassie checks her phone, already tapping out a message.
“Seriously?” Emily laughs, leaning back against the blue car.
“Yep. So, I’m gonna need you a little less Auto-Shop Barbie and something a little more Cowgirl tonight.
We’ll pick you up at the house at seven.
” Kassie turns her gaze to me, her expression shifting to one of mock pity.
“You can come too if you want, baby bro, but I guessed you’d be committing to the recluse act as usual. ”
“Yeah, not my thing, Kass,” I mutter.
“Whatever. Boring.” She checks her watch and flounces back out the door as quickly as she arrived, leaving a trail of perfume and chaos in her wake.
I raise an eyebrow at Emily, and she smiles, the tension from before still lingering in the air. “Mary probably has lunch ready at the house if you’re hungry,” I say, trying to get us both back on solid ground.
“Oh, yeah, sure. Let me just put this back together.”
Emily leans back over the engine to replace the oil cap. But as she goes to tighten it, her grip slips on the slick metal. She loses her balance and catches a pointed edge on the engine block.
“Oh, shit!” she hisses, her face contorting in pain.
She snaps her hand back against her chest, and I immediately see red with dark, thick blood smearing across the front of her white tank top.
“Fuck, Em, are you okay?” The panic hits me faster than I expect. I’m at her side in two strides, reaching for her wrist.
“Yeah,” she grits out, though her breath is coming in short bursts. “I just…I caught it on the block.”
“Let me see. Just let me look.” I guide her gently toward a stool by the workbench, my heart hammering for a completely different reason now. “Sit. Hold your arm up—keep the pressure on it while I find something.”
“Sorry,” she mumbles, looking a little pale. “I told you I’m clumsy.”
“Yeah, I remember that about you,” I say softly, the memory of her with a constant band-aid on flashes through my mind.
I see her regard me, her expression softening into something sweet and touched.
She didn’t expect me to remember that. I find a clean rag and wrap it tightly around her palm to stem the flow.
I have to keep my head down, focusing on the wound, because having her this close is doing things to my head.
“It’s not too deep,” I tell her as I guide her over to the utility sink. “But we need to clean the grease out of it.”
I run the cool water over her skin. My large hands look dark and rugged against the paleness of hers. I dab the rag back against the wound and grab the first-aid kit from the shelf, spraying the cut with antiseptic. She winces, and instinctively, I pull her closer to steady her.
The tiny touches are electric. Every time my thumb brushes her skin to steady the bandage, a jolt travels up my arm. I can feel her eyes on me, studying the lines of my face, searching for something. I look up, and the world stops.
She’s leaning in without realizing, her breath is warm against my cheek, her gaze flicks up and fixes intently on my lips.
For a second, I almost lose the fight. I want to drop the bandage, put my hands in her hair, and finally taste what I’ve been dreaming about since she stepped onto that porch. But I can’t.
“We…we should get you to the house,” I rasp, clearing my throat. “Mary can do this properly for you.”
The spell breaks. I pull back, putting a foot of distance between us that feels like a mile.
Emily blinks, clearing the haze from her eyes, and nods quickly. “Right. Yeah. Good idea.”