Chapter 10 #2
I wouldn’t sic a tired three-year-old on my worst enemy.
Also, how could he finish the battery if he had to entertain her?
And why did my imagination keep drifting to images of Eli’s hands working under my hood?
“It’s okay.” I curled my fingers around his keys, noticing a round keychain with a mountain range that read, Get Lost. “We won’t be long. So … Fruit Loops. Anything else?”
“Nope. I’m good.”
I nodded, grabbing our computers before my greedy hormones convinced me his stare was anything more than polite attentiveness.
“Hey, Ava?”
I paused. “Yes?”
“I really like your shorts.”
Nina nodded off on the way home, and I enjoyed twenty blessed minutes of silence, bedtime be damned. But as I pulled up to the house and stared at Roxy’s back end sticking out of the garage bay, my calm dissipated. No more playing dumb.
A battery doesn’t take this long.
When we’d left the auto shop, I had suspected all those extra bags meant Eli planned to fix her, and I said nothing. Look where denial landed me. I forced a swallow, trying not to overthink it. Realistically, this meant one less task on my list.
Nina didn’t even flinch when I lifted her out of her car seat and draped her across my chest. I had two choices: hide and pretend Eli’s hands weren’t all over my engine.
Or face him, return his keys, and chew him out for thinking he could put his hands wherever he wanted without asking.
The clink of metal on metal drifted out from the third bay and sent little thrills along my spine.
Was there a third option?
I grabbed Eli’s keys and the box of cereal with my free hand, all signs pointing towards a cliff edge.
This didn’t have to be a big deal. I’d seen many mechanics in my life, and I’d only fallen in love with one of them. Logically, I needed my truck running, and Eli could do that. Simple. Nothing more. I just. Wouldn’t. Look at him.
I Zen-walked toward the open garage, telling myself it was to keep Nina sleeping.
The tinkering sounds grew louder. Classic rock music danced in the stagnant air, mixing with the burnt odors of lubricant and gasoline.
A colony of butterflies readied for flight under my rib cage–the fluttering when you’re nearing the front of the line, Sharpie and new album in hand, and you can actually see the lead singer and his perfect white teeth.
I could pretend it was Ray down at the smog check on 7th–definitely not my type.
But Ray never wore dark blue coveralls and camel-colored work boots, like the ones sticking out from under my truck.
My steps fell amidst a minefield of blackened parts and pieces.
Jason was a mechanic before discovering his calling with horses.
I’d met him under similar circumstances, which gave me reason enough to abort.
Under the cover of an Eagles guitar solo, I laid Eli’s keys silently on the workbench next to his box of Fruit Loops, right where he’d see them.
Now, to creep out undetected.
“Ava, is that you?”
I Zen-froze.
“Hey, can you grab me a towel?” His muffled voice drew my eyes to his long, sturdy legs, now bent, boots planted on the ground. “Hello?”
“Yes, sorry.”
Why am I apologizing?
I backpedaled, scanning the workbench, then the piles of tools and parts on the floor. Towels, towels … “Shop towel?”
“That’ll do.”
With a wad of blue paper towels, I squatted next to the Chevy and stretched my arm underneath. Sweat pasted my camisole to my back, and Nina’s limp form moved with me, her steady breathing blowing hot air onto my neck.
Eli’s fingers fumbled over mine before finding the towels. I yanked my arm back, half-expecting singe marks where our skin met. Instead, I found a black grease streak across my palm.
I stood too fast, and the world tilted. “Your keys are on the workbench. Thanks again.” Time to go.
“You okay?”
“Yup.”
But before I could leave, he shifted himself out from under the front end of my truck, and the image impregnated my brain. Long, solid limbs and casual confidence hit me like an arrow.
The discarded parts on the floor slowed my escape. I grabbed a shop towel on my way out and tried single-handedly to rub at the blackish stain on my palm.
“Ava, wait!” Eli hopped over the mess and cut me off, stopping in front of me in all his sweat, grease, and coverall glory.
Well, funnel cake …
He wasn’t hard to look at before, but now? His head tilted to study me, then nodded to Nina’s sleeping form. “Tired kid.”
Why is it so hot in here?
His mechanic’s suit sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, revealing a dusting of hair that ran over smooth, lean muscle.
Ray on 7th. Ray on 7th ...
My left arm burned from holding Nina. Part of me wanted her to wake up and give me an excuse to leave. The other, less responsible part wished I had somewhere to put her down. I hadn’t seen this latter part of myself in a while, and I wasn’t sure what to do with her.
My eyes drifted to the open hood of my Chevy. “I thought you were just replacing the battery?”
“Yeah … well,” amusement tinted his deep, warm tone. “If you let me finish, I promise I’ll make your engine purr.”
My back muscles undulated from the bottom up. Were we talking about my truck? “I’m not criticizing your skill. It’s just, you didn’t even ask.”
He shrugged. “I was already under there and had most of the parts.”
“Because you bought them yesterday?”
He grinned from ear to ear, denying nothing. Then he laughed, glanced to the side, and rested his hands on his hips. He could’ve been Mr. July in one of my old calendars. “I couldn’t help myself.”
“Oh, no?”
“Ava, I think you underestimate how sexy your truck is.”
“Please don’t say that word.”
“What, sexy?”
I inhaled sharply, hating how his deep vibrations settled over me in an intoxicating plume. I dropped my eyes to the floor, but even his darn boots called to me. The whole place smelled sharp, like a shop. His hair stuck out at every angle, and he even had a swipe of dirt across his face.
Was he trying to be a stereotype?
“How much is this going to cost?” I needed something to get angry about because the alternative scared me.
He crossed his arms, which was arguably worse. “Don’t worry about it,” he said.
“I’m not worried. I trust you’ll give me a fair price–”
“Ava, I’m not gonna charge you.”
“Well, you should. You did the work.” Our eyes locked–his radiating confidence. I wouldn’t win this stare-down. Fine. “What did you fix?” I’d look up fair prices later.
“What? You want a list?”
“Yes.”
His eyes narrowed. “Why?”
Because you’re too hot to be giving me gifts like this. “So, the next time I take it in for a service, they don’t sell me something I don’t need.”
He blew out a stream of air and ticked off fingers as he said, “Plugs, fluids, oil filter, hoses ...”
That didn’t sound too bad.
“… belts, radiator fan, alternator …”
Alternator?
“Rotor, condenser cap.” One side of his mouth curved up. “And I de-greased the engine.”
“No.” I shook my head, grinding the coarse paper towel into my hand on a second attempt to remove the grease stain. Or maybe to clear the layer of intrigue that coated me like sweat. Quite the feat while holding Nina. “There’s no way you could’ve done all that in one day.”
He studied me for several seconds, then his eyes lowered to my hand. “I’ve got something that will get that off. Come here.”
He dropped his towels on the floor and moved deeper into the garage. Cardboard slid across concrete, flaps scraping open as Eli dug through boxes, one after another.
Upon noticing I hadn’t moved, he pointed to the rear corner. “Hey, you. Sink.”
My traitorous feet obeyed. I picked my way past mounds of tiles, tires, and scrap wood.
I told myself it was the only polite response given his efforts.
Dried blobs of black and white paint coated the sides of the large metal paint sink.
I twisted the hot-water handle and stuck my hand under the stream.
None of this seemed to bother Nina, who slept on.
I wasn’t ready when Eli leaned in behind me, one solid, muscular arm reaching past mine to shut off the water. Heat rolled off him like a seductive bonfire on a cold, starry night.
Maybe he was a terrible kisser.
Guilt instantly flooded my senses. “I have all I need. One and done,” Jason always said. He’d been talking about me.
Eli twisted off the lid of a round white tub the diameter of a corn tortilla. “Scrub first, then water,” he murmured. The vibrations slithered past my guilt and coiled happily in my stomach.
I watched in a grating mix of horror and thrill as he swiped his finger into the tub, then took my grease-smeared hand in his.
Breathing ceased as he massaged the gritty paste into my palm.
Each little circular scrub shipped me further out of reality.
Like an all-inclusive cruise with a drinks package.
Vacations are good, Ava. You were supposed to take them. Maybe I was overthinking this.
Nina stirred, her low, sleepy moan sling-shotting me back to shore. I yanked my hand free and fumbled with the tap, but my slippery grip accomplished nothing. Eli leaned in to assist, and his body closed in on mine.
I stuck my hand under the tap, practically crawling into the sink to make space between us because every skin cell he met was doing backflips.
“Mama?” Nina mumbled, popping her head up and looking around. “Where’s my Fruit Loops?”
I shook out my wet hand as Eli turned off the water, and I practically rammed him over on my escape. I was a mom. Moms didn’t get vacations. “I’ll b-be back. Later. For my truck.”
I had no doubt he could restart any neglected engine. Even mine. And I had no business doing that.