He eyed me again. “Nope.”
“Then you live in Winchester?”
“Yep.”
And he wasn’t talkative. So we’d established that.
He stood back and looked at the curvy lines of my car, almost the same way he’d looked at me. I took that as a good sign, since my car was pretty damn hot. “She’s gorgeous.”
“Thanks.”
“A ‘69?”
I was impressed he identified the year with a glance. Though cars were his job, so I shouldn’t be. Maybe my impression of his probable chest measurement was seeping into my impressions of him in general. “Yeah. And she exploded.”
I explained what had happened, and he followed me to the front of the car. He put his tools down on the gravel next to the road and started checking the radiator.
“Any idea what’s wrong?”
He didn’t answer for a minute. “A few.”
He was a man of little words.
We were quiet for what seemed like eons. I felt awkward just standing there, watching him inspect my car in silence. I’m not good with awkward—I tend to just make things more awkward. But I couldn’t stand the no-speech zone any longer. “Have you lived in Winchester long?”
Again, he waited more than a minute to answer. “A few weeks.”
“I’m surprised I haven’t seen you before.” I would have remembered. Those eyes. Those arms. It was suddenly much warmer than it had been a few minutes ago.
“Because you’re an expert on all the men in town?” My cheeks flamed and I was about to respond when he said, “I just started working at Red’s, so it’s not really that surprising.”
Okay. So we weren’t friends, and there was a good chance he thought I was an absolute idiot. Or maybe he just wasn’t interested in talking. In any case, I already felt dumb enough, and I had no further interest in talking to a man who didn’t want to talk to me, regardless of his criminally low levels of body fat, or tight jeans and shirt that fit him like a second skin. He worked in silence, and I watched in silence. It was even more awkward than before. He seemed totally fine with that.
I felt deflated. Why wasn’t he talking to me? Or even attempting to flirt? We’d flirted during our eye-sex encounter, so what was his problem now? He’d barely said a word, which made him so difficult to read that I couldn’t tell what his issue was. But his issue was giving me issues, and I didn’t like it. I toed some gravel on the ground, wishing I could speed up time and get this service call over with.
“Why isn’t your boyfriend helping you with this?”
I started at his voice, surprised he was instigating a conversation. I was even more surprised he was instigating a conversation that was fishing for information about the state of my relationship status. Since it seemed he’d already put me in the epic loser category, I decided not to give the Superman body double any other ammunition. Instead, I lifted a shoulder, non-committal—which was how I felt about my dating life—and pretended I was actually in a relationship, “The guys I date don’t usually do cars.”
He placed his hands on the front of She-Ra and looked at me sideways, one corner of his lips lifting. “What do they do?”
I shrugged.
“So…not you?”
I felt my cheeks redden.
He smiled wider, turning his attention back to the mess under my hood. “With a car like this, you should really have someone who appreciates it and wants to help you take care of it. It’s a lot of work.”
That whole statement seemed like it had a lot of double-meaning attached to it. I wasn’t sure what to make of it, but I wasn’t the type of woman who wanted a man to take care of me, and I didn’t want him to assume I was. “I can do the work myself. I don’t need anyone else.”
He braced his arms against the edge of the car, his muscles even more defined with the added strain of his weight. He held my gaze. “You definitely needed me tonight.” My eyes widened and he grinned. It took me a second to realize he was talking about my car, and not about all of the other ways he thought I needed him.
I folded my arms over my chest. “I call for help when I can’t take care of something on my own.”
He laughed softly.
“What’s so funny?”
“Just wondering what else you get ‘help’ with.”
He took a towel from his tool box and wiped the antifreeze off of She-Ra. I watched his large, strong hands move over the engine compartment, cleaning it with precision. If his car maintenance skills were any indication, he was a perfectionist, through and through. I couldn’t help but wonder what other things he approached with such determined focus, and what else he could do with those hands.
“Did your friend at the Soup and Spoon find some research material?”
My jaw dropped. So, now he was acknowledging our previous wordless exchange…and informing me that he’d been eavesdropping. “How did you know about that?”
“Your friend wasn’t exactly whispering. Did she find what she was looking for?”
I was kind of annoyed he was asking. What? Did he want to be part of her research team? Geez. I scowled at the thought. “Brynn usually gets what she wants.”
He licked his lips, his eyes focused on mine. “Do you?”
I had no response, and was too stunned by the scorching heat radiating off of him to answer. The way he looked at me made me think I should stop for a pregnancy test on the way home because he might have inseminated me with his eyes.
His lips lifted slightly, amused that he’d made me uncomfortable. “The tube for your radiator overflow popped off and the overflow container is leaking, too,” he said, throwing the towel back in his tool box. “It’s a hazard; you should get it fixed, or your radiator will leak—and overheat— constantly.” He latched the clips on the front of the box and picked it up. “You’ll be fine to get it home, just don’t take it on the freeway or for long distances until you bring it into the shop and we install the overflow.”
Still overcome with all the lip licking and eye-sexing, I barely comprehended his explanation of my car issues. His brow lifted like he was waiting for a response—which was a problem since my throat felt like cotton. I attempted a swallow. “Great,” I managed to get out. “Thanks for your help.”
“I work in the afternoons,” he paused as he passed by me, his arm brushing mine. Heat raced through my veins at the slight touch. He leaned down next to my ear, and in a low tone said, “in case you want me under your hood.”
He said the last part with blatant innuendo. I felt my cheeks go hot as he picked up his tool box.
“See you around, sixty-nine.”
“Blue Eyes called you sixty-nine?” Brynn asked, her mouth gaping. “That. Is. Awesome!”
I took a sip of my soda. “It’s the year of my car. That’s why he said it.”
“Uh huh, sure it is,” she said, rolling her eyes. “If you really believe that, you’re way more gullible than I thought.”
I shifted my eyes away from her, taking in the room. Standard college party. The air smelled like alcohol and too much perfume. The girls were wearing next-to-nothing, and the guys were hoping they’d get to take the next to nothing pieces off. I wasn’t interested in the guys, but Brynn liked going to these parties, and I liked spending time with her. Plus, I didn’t want her going alone, without someone to have her back. “You’re making a bigger deal out of the situation than you should,” I reasoned, also trying to convince myself.
“He made sexual references all through the conversation with you. That’s a big deal.” Her voice went high and sing-songy. “He liiikkkes you.”
“He doesn’t like me. He barely talked to me, and made me feel like an awkward teenager again.”
“But when he did talk to you, he totally flirted.” Brynn watched me with a knowing expression. “I saw the way you looked at him at lunch. And the way he looked at you. It was like he was hungry, and you were absolutely willing to be eaten.”
I gasped. “I am not wi
lling to be eaten,” I said, affronted. “In fact, I’ve been very good about not being eaten in the past! Law degree first, remember?”
“That’s what you’ve always said, but this time is different.” She studied me for a moment, tapping a finger against her lips. “You’re interested in him. Really interested. I think he might just be the man who breaks your no-sex streak.”
I made a pssh noise, though my heart was pounding at even the thought. “You saw him. A nun would be interested! But I’m only interested in looking. That’s all.”
My mind was racing with thoughts about Blue Eyes—I still didn’t even know his name—and our interaction. I’d replayed it over in my head at least thirty times in the past three hours. I had it memorized. I’d probably dream about it. I’d even considered pretending to be sick so I could go home and analyze it some more—with aid from my naughty box. I couldn’t keep talking about it, though, or it would make me even more crazy. “How was your ‘research session’ the other day?” I asked, changing the subject.
Brynn made a disgusted noise like she was completely over it. “Not great. My research is underway, though. I’ve started taking notes and compiling a list of my past observations.”
I burst out laughing. I didn’t realize she was taking this so seriously. “Do you tell the guys about your research before, or after, they drop their pants?”
Her brows shot up. “Are you crazy? I don’t tell them at all! If word got out, I might start getting sizes that aren’t normal, and that would skew my results. I need an unbiased study.”
I didn’t point out that she was probably the most biased person in the world when it came to penis size, and that her research project had started because of her bias. “But if people knew you were looking for bigger sizes, it would help you reach your ultimate goal: getting laid by guys you actually want to have sex with.”
She tilted her glass back, taking a drink. The yeasty smell of cheap beer perfumed the air. “True. But now I’m focused. I really want to get some data on this.”
“I’m sure you do.” I took another sip of my drink—Coke. “Have you found anyone here worth studying?”
“No,” she scanned the room, “I already have info on most of these guys.”
My mouth fell open. We were at a party with a bunch of current and former frat guys. There were at least fifty of them here. “I didn’t realize you had that much time.”
She looked at me like I was nuts. “I haven’t slept with all of them. Just some. And the others, well, you hear things.”
My eyes got even wider. “I guess I’m not hanging out with the same people you are. Because you’re the only person I know who openly discusses the size of their partners.”
“That’s because you hang out with books instead of girls.”
I shrugged. I was fine with that.
“I know some guys who’d like to be studied,” a voice behind me said.
I shifted and turned to see Collin. He used one hand to brace himself on the back of the couch, then jumped between me and Brynn. There wasn’t a lot of room between us to begin with, but that didn’t deter him. “Hey!” I yelled, trying to steady my Coke. “You almost spilled my drink all over my shirt.” I glared at him. He was wearing dark wash jeans with a black tee that had a deep green dragon design on it. It looked like something that would be sold at a sci-fi / fantasy convention.
“I would have helped you clean it up,” he said, brows waggling.
I rolled my eyes. Collin was a massive flirt, often annoying, and occasionally, a nice guy. He and Brynn had hooked up before, and were still friends. I put up with him—and all of her dates and booty calls—because she was my bestie. “I would have taken my chances with the stain.”
He shrugged and moved on. “Can I get you ladies anything? Food, drinks, condoms?”
I gave Brynn a look that said, this is unbelievable. She grinned, amused. “You could tell me when you’re going to start singing. Because that’s what I really came for.”
His lips spread revealing a bright smile. “I aim to please,” he said, jumping up and standing on the cheap, fabricated wood coffee table in front of us. He lifted his hand, miming a microphone, and started singing a teen pop song about love gone wrong at the top of his lungs. It was off-key, horrible, and he was making a total spectacle of himself. I was glad I’d stayed for it. Just as he got to the chorus for the second time, I heard a loud crack and the coffee table legs gave out. The table crashed to the ground, taking Collin with it. The room fell silent at the abrupt end to his performance. I stood up to see if he was okay or needed help, but my assistance wasn’t required. Collin popped up off the ground and in the middle of the coffee table wreckage, he picked right back up where he’d left off in the song.
Everyone clapped and laughed. My initial thought was that I was glad he was okay. My second thought was that if he kept treating his house like this, he wasn’t going to get his rent deposit back. Looking around at everyone else in the room having a great time, I was pretty sure I was the only one who’d had that thought.
After the party, I’d spent some time thinking about my extremely practical reaction to Collin’s coffee table destruction. Instead of laughing and having a good time like everyone else, I’d immediately gone into “adult” mode in my head, ticking off the reasons Collin had been irresponsible, and the issues that would arise from his error in judgment.
Part of my problem was that unlike most people, I analyzed every action, and its potential consequences, before I made a move. There was a reason for that. For a long time, things in my life had been completely unpredictable—and scary. The uncertainty made me feel like every day I was treading water, unsure whether that would be the day my legs finally gave out. It had affected me to the point that I tried to control my environment as much as possible. I liked things safe, organized, practical—and apparently, pretty damn boring. That made me pretty damn boring myself. I was sick of being practical, and I wanted to have a little fun. Not “get knocked up” fun, but I’d convinced myself some flirting wouldn’t be a bad idea.
So, in the spirit of trying to be more social and act twenty-three instead of fifty, I decided to get She-Ra’s overflow fixed. While that might not seem like anything out of the ordinary, it was. I’d purposefully waited until four o’clock in the afternoon, when I knew Blue Eyes would be there to work on my car. I was going to get She-Ra fixed, and possibly even flirt. And if that went well, maybe I’d do something completely irrational like not fill up my gas tank until it got below a quarter of a tank instead of a half. Baby steps.
“Hey, Syd!” Red said as I opened the glass front door of his shop waiting area. He was standing behind the counter; an office with a door was behind that. Red’s mechanic shop was on one of the busiest streets in town. The outside of the building had wood siding, painted white with bright red trim. Four gas pumps sat in front of the garage. A sign declaring it Red’s Gas and Auto Repairs hung above the large garage shop doors. He had a waiting area with popcorn, drinks, and candy for people who didn’t have to wait long for a repair to be done—you know, the people with cars that weren’t as old as their parents.
“Hey.” I leaned against the counter, kicking one leg out and resting an elbow on the laminate countertop. I was trying to pose in a flattering way in case Blue Eyes made an appearance. I’d already done a scan of the outside of the shop. He wasn’t there. Maybe he’d lied about his hours. I frowned as I thought about that. Red would surely tell him when I came in. Then he’d know I was there during the afternoon and make assumptions about why. They’d be correct assumptions, but that didn’t matter as much as the fact that they’d be embarrassing assumptions that would confirm I’d come to the shop at the exact time he’d told me to. I sighed inwardly. Nothing I could do about it now. If I ever saw Blue Eyes again, and if he asked, I’d just say this was my only free time. I almost laughed at that. I was already rationalizing things, thinking of worst-case scenarios, and coming up with ways to manage th
em. I needed to stop; I needed to learn to relax. And, I reminded myself, I was here to try to change that exact problem. “I came in to get my overflow fixed.”
Red nodded, pulling out his keyboard from under the desk. He pushed his glasses up higher on his nose as he typed. “I heard about that.”
“Yeah. The new guy figured it out pretty fast.”
Red nodded. “He’s been here for a few weeks. I was lucky to get him. He has a lot of experience.”
“I bet he does,” I mumbled, thinking his experience probably encompassed a hell of a lot more than cars. An image of Blue Eyes from the other night, leaning over She-Ra, popped into my head. The muscles in his back bunching with each twist of his wrench—the same muscles that would be flexed if he was leaning over me instead. I dragged in a ragged breath before Red coughed, trying to get my attention.
I blinked, and noticed Red looking at me over the top of his wire rimmed glasses, like he was analyzing me or something. I was fine with analyzing myself, but I didn’t like when other people did it. I quickly changed the subject. “So,” I said, absently picking up a card from a stack on the counter and tapping it against the laminate, “can you fit She-Ra in today?”
Red hit a button and his printer started up. He grabbed the invoice and started to walk to the door between the waiting room and the garage. “Park her in the first bay.”
I put the card back down and noticed what was printed on it for the first time. An ad for a local haunted house. It was only August. I shook my head, thinking that haunted houses seemed to be starting earlier every year. I picked it back up and slid it in my purse. Haunted houses weren’t practical and boring, and they were definitely out of my comfort zone. I might have to drag Brynn to it with me.
Tempting Sydney Page 2