He chuckled then grabbed his crotch. “She’d never do such a thing. She loves them too much, anyway.”
“Okay, enough,” I sputtered, waving my hands. “I don’t need to hear any of that shit. What goes on between Annie and your junk is your business.”
He laughed once more and then swaggered out of the shop, no doubt in a hurry to get home to Annie, who was far too sweet to ever do such a thing as bronze his balls. It had only been me and Paulie at the shop today, so once he left, I turned up the music to full blast and let the sound drown out the present.
When I’d first started here ten years ago, Paulie was only thirty four. His mountain-like size, mixed with my unadulterated fear of having run away, made him seem like he was a solid generation older than me. But as the days passed, I saw Paulie for what he was—a genuinely good guy with a generous heart.
Still didn’t mean that he didn’t haze me into the brotherhood of his shop workers. About two weeks after I started at the garage, Paulie put an Out of Order sign up on the bathroom door and locked it, saying it was too foul of a problem to risk anyone accidentally walking into it. He rented one of those portable toilets and had it placed out behind the shop. Since it was only me, Paulie, Shawn, and Rick, we were lucky enough to make do, using the backside of the dumpster in case of an emergency. But sure enough, there was one time I simply had to use the huge, blue, plastic monstrosity of a shitter. The second my ass hit the seat, the walls started shaking. Before I could manage to buckle my jeans back up, it was rocking back and forth to the rhythm of the guys chanting, “Newbie, newbie, newbie.” They must have felt some kind of compassion for me because they let me walk away unscathed, and, more importantly, clean.
It wasn’t until a few days later that I overheard Rick talking to Shawn about how he was shocked it took so long for the extra fiber muffin to take me down.
Shaking my head, I laughed at the early days and the memories they held. Despite being a great guy for the most part, Paulie had always been a huge ball-buster. So much so that when I told him I was gay—after about a year and a half of working for him—I figured I’d never hear the end of it.
“Whatever floats your boat, or raises the flag, so to speak,” he said, shrugging it off and not making a big deal out if it at all. It took me a few days to truly believe he was okay with it. He swore up and down it wasn’t a problem, and it wasn’t. Even Shawn and Rick had been fine with it once I told them. It had taken nearly two years, but at that point, I was finally starting to believe that I had found a place to belong.
When he brought Annie here for the first time two years ago, he shot me a look that begged for me to be on my best behavior, not to tell her all the tales of him fucking around that would surely expose the side he was trying to keep hidden. Next to Paulie, Annie looked like nothing more than a mouse. Whereas she’d been blessed with more curves than the infamous Lombard Street in San Francisco, she’d been less than lucky in the legs department. At five one, the top of her head barely hit the middle of his chest. After Paulie had ragged on me, a good-natured, between-the-guys sort of joke, Annie slapped him on the arm, and told him to be nice. I was sure he’d look at her as if she’d had ten heads and tell her to shut up. That was what he’d tell me if I ever told him to “be nice.” Seeing the effect she’d had on him made me like her instantly.
Based solely on the change in Paulie’s demeanor, and the fact that he never left later than six, it was clear he and Annie were enjoying the honeymoon phase of their marriage. On more than one occasion, he’d come in bragging about the benefits of never having to sleep alone again.
Not wanting to go there when thinking about Paulie and Annie and their bedroom antics, I shifted my attention from my pointless tangent back to my task at hand—draining the oil from the sedan on the lift.
Lost to the mindless task, and for some reason stuck on Paulie’s sex life, I tried to figure out how long it’d been for me.
Too long to count, that was for damn sure.
The loud bang on the garage doors scared the shit out of, making me jump out of my skin. “Shit,” I yelled after hitting my head on the bumper. Despite calling out, “One second,” the banging continued. More than a little dizzy, my anger mounted as I walked toward the door. “Chill the fuck out,” I muttered as I wiped my hands on a work rag. The row of windows stretching through the mid-line of the door was tinted so that only someone on the inside could see out. They were designed that way so anyone peering into the shop wouldn’t be able to see what kind of cars were parked inside—a security tip I offered to Paulie after I’d started working here.
The man standing on the other side must not have heard me because he continued his relentless banging. At this rate, I’d be surprised if his knuckles weren’t all bloody and cut up.
Knowing he couldn’t see me did nothing to stop me from staying to the side. My initial intention was simply to check out who the hell was trying to break down my door. The last thing I needed was some psychopath ruining my night, but as I peered out the window, the last thought running through my mind was that he was a psycho.
Dressed in a modern grey suit, he was the epitome of class. The baby blue shirt underneath made his eyes pop, of course the anger simmering there amplified them as well. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he looked like he was trying to ward off some massive headache. Either he really was a psychopath, playing his part of the deception perfectly, or he was in a bind and genuinely in need of help. Watching him run his fingers through his thick dark brown hair, he let out a deep huff of breath. The door muffled his words, but I swear I heard him say, “Just my fucking luck.”
Having uttered that phrase more than a few times in my own life, I decided I’d let him in and see what he needed. The fact that my dick was twitching in my pants at the mere sight of him didn’t hurt his case much either.
He stood at attention as he listened to me unclicking the locks. The doors rolled open revealing his long, lean frame. This guy was money. It was written all over him, from his shirt to his shoes, from his shiny cufflinks to the BMW key dangling from his finger.
“Can I help you?” My voice was gruff, and I hoped he thought it was from his less than polite request to be seen, rather than the reaction I was having to him.
He eyed me, scanning my body from head to toe. Annoyance was written all over his face and my attraction quickly morphed into annoyance. “Excuse me,” I prompted when he still hadn’t spoken a single word. “You knocked on my door. Is there something I can help you with?”
“Uh, yeah,” he answered, running his hands through his hair once again. “Hit a pothole down the road,” he explained somewhat distractedly. He pointed in the direction in which I assumed his damaged car sat.
“Let me grab the keys to the tow truck.” Walking away from him, I felt his stare on my back.
By the time I walked back out of the office, he was gone. “What the hell?” I mumbled to myself, wondering where the hell he’d gone. For a split second, I actually wondered if I’d conjured him up from thin air to keep myself occupied as I closed the shop by myself. But the smell of his cologne still hung in the air, his heat like a shadow lingering in the open space.
After thinking about it for a minute, I decided I’d just drive down the road to see if his car was still there. Maybe it was to confirm he’d actually been here, that he wasn’t some figment of my imagination.
His long legs ate up the distance between my shop and his car in less time than I would have imagined because as I approached his car, he wasn’t all that far away from it.
As I parked the truck by his BMW, I wondered what the hell I had done to make him walk rather than take the ride. Then I got pissed at myself for spending so much mental energy on a guy I’d just met and who meant absolutely nothing to me, other than a possible job. One who would hopefully land me a few bucks.
Wordlessly, I leapt out of truck and toward his car to inspect the damage. “I tried calling the service center,” he began to e
xplain as I squatted next to the flat tire and bent rim. “But they closed at five. These damn run-flat tires are supposed to be indestructible, but leave it to me to do this.” He waved his hand in frustration at his shining achievement.
Call me a bastard, but I was smiling a touch knowing he was as pissed as he was. Something about him put me on edge—his cool demeanor somehow came off as “I’m better than you,” and it grated on my nerves.
Though, this could simply be my own dirt poor, runaway-kid insecurities whispering in my ear. And even if it was the case, the fact that he’d made me feel them annoyed me even more.
“Well, there’s not much I can do,” I announced abruptly, moving to stand next to him.
“I’m sure there must be something you can do.” His voice was calm and in control. He raked his hands through his hair again. “It’s a tire, surely you can handle that,” he taunted, his words hinting at a demand.
“Yeah, these tires are special order. I don’t have any in the shop.” Jamming my hands in my pockets, I rocked on my heels and reveled in his bubbling frustration.
“Then you’ll order some.” And then his demand wasn’t so veiled. “I’ll even call the dealer for you,” he muttered, digging in his pocket for his phone. Punching at the screen, he dialed a number, but there was no answer. “So much for that,” he announced, sliding his phone back into his pocket.
After pacing the length of the car a few times, he looked at it and laughed. It was a cynical and mean sound, one which asked, ‘who the fuck did I piss off to have to deal with this?’
“Sorry, man, I wish there was more I could do, but maybe the dealer will be able to help you out in the morning.” Walking toward the tow truck, I avoided offering more sympathy. It was a flat tire, not the end of the world.
Watching from the side of the tow truck, I overheard his rather angry phone conversation. “There’s nothing I can do. It’s not going to happen. My car’s all busted up and I need to take care of it.” He stopped talking, his eyes traveling over to me. Quickly, I busied myself with the automated controls for the lift and tow cable. “Yeah. Okay. Fine. Sure, I’ll call you soon.”
As he walked toward me, there was something darkening his eyes, something twisting his face. “Everything okay?”
He ran a strong hand through his hair and leaned up against the truck. The sight of his perfect suit pressed up against my filthy truck was oddly enticing. Erotic images of locking him between the metal and my body ran through my head, making me harden behind my zipper. His voice, rich and heavy, like warm honey, flowed from his full lips. His abrupt, “Hello?” snapped me out of my fantasy.
“What? Uh, oh. Sorry. What were you saying?” Bumbling idiot that I was, I let him catch me staring.
A smug, sexy-as-fuck smile pulled on his mouth. The anger, which was in his eyes moments ago, vanished, morphing into amused playfulness. “I’m Parker, by the way.” He extended his hand and for the briefest of seconds, I actually considered not shaking it. While the thought of touching him was exhilarating and tempting, it was also nerve-wracking.
Giving way to courtesy, I gripped his hand, enjoying the warmth of his strong fingers. There was something forbidden seeing his clean hand wrapped tightly around my grease-covered one. “Nice to meet you, Liam.” My face contorted in confusion and he answered my unasked question. “It’s on your shirt.” His eyes traveled to my name on the embroidered patch.
“Oh, right,” I answered lamely.
We were still holding hands, moving them up and down absentmindedly. Our eyes met and something unnamable and fierce passed between us.
“Okay . . . well,” I sputtered, fumbling with the buttons on the side of the truck once again. “Let me at least get you towed back to the shop and you can have it taken care of in the morning.”
The sound of the lift grating against the concrete echoed the frayed state of my nerves. From the second Parker knocked on my garage door, he’d done nothing but set me on edge.
I couldn’t wait to be done with him and get him out of my hair.
At least that was the lie I would tell myself.
“Go ahead and get in.” Liam angled his head toward the front of the tow truck. “I need to do a few more things and then we can head back to the shop.” Welcoming the distance from him, I shook my head, hoping to disentangle all the crap currently jumbled there.
Though he might have been a touch rude, I couldn’t exactly say I had given him a reason to be anything but. In my years as a lawyer, I’d learned not to make excuses for my behavior. Hell, I’d always acted respectfully and in control, but from the second Liam’s deep brown eyes set on mine, I’d been thrown off kilter.
Sliding into the seat, I pulled out my phone and shot a quick text to Zan. We’d only been on two dates, not nearly enough to constitute a minute-by-minute update of each other’s schedules but Zan, however, believed the opposite. He was already demonstrating how clingy he could be. Even though our first date had been nice enough, it hadn’t blown my socks off. The fact that he practically shoved his tongue down my throat at my front door put even more of a sour taste in my mouth.
But always wanting to be fair, I wasn’t opposed to second chances. The second date had gone a little better. He didn’t attack me with his tongue, but he did seem a little put off when I didn’t invite him in. Frankly, I had planned on breaking it off. No, that wasn’t true. Losing his phone number was actually what I’d had in mind.
If I were a gambler, I’d put money on the idea that he’d already had my number programmed into speed dial. Or tattooed on his arm. When he texted me earlier in the day that his dad was being admitted into the hospital, I honestly didn’t have the heart to break it off with him. Figuring I could at least be a friend to him, I had made plans for dinner. To say he was less than enthused by my call earlier to cancel those plans would be an understatement. But when I called him earlier to let him know I couldn’t be there for him tonight, I did say I would check in on him later.
Typing out a quick message, I apologized again and refocused my attention back to Liam as he was walking to his door.
“She’s all loaded.” The bench seat shifted under Liam’s movements. As he pulled the seatbelt across his lap, he leaned to my side slightly, the woodsy scent of his shampoo invading the space. Desperately needing to hide the effect he was having on me, I busied myself with my phone, resting it in my lap.
The short drive back to the shop was spent in absolute silence. No radio. No conversation. Just the gentle lull of my car being towed behind us, and the occasional soft buzzing of my phone filled the cabin.
“Important plans?” Liam kept his eyes on the road, but directed his question at my busy phone.
“No,” I deflected with a huff. “Just some guy. Client, I mean. For a case I’m working on.” Recovering quickly, I hoped he hadn’t heard my slip up.
“Client?” He leaned his elbow against the open window. “You some kind of high-class hooker or something?” He laughed, a deep, throaty sound that made my insides churn.
Swallowing back a bit of pride at knowing he thought of me in some kind of sexual way, I chose to laugh instead. “Nah, but I do fuck people over occasionally,” I joked. “I’m a lawyer.”
“Texting clients after hours. That’s pretty committed, huh?”
Shrugging, I offered a grunt as my response. Honestly, I hated how committed I’d become to my job. If I was being honest, most of my determination to succeed was rooted in my need to prove my father wrong. Or at least shut him up for a few minutes about what a failure I was.
We pulled into the shop as the sun descended on the horizon. There was a slight chill in the air carried in by a powerful gust of spring air. Wrapping my thin suit jacket around my body, I braced myself against the coolness.
“This won’t take long.” Liam jumped down from the side rail of the truck. He’d backed the truck into the bay, stopping short of damaging my rear bumper. Directing us into the garage, he pointed to the office, t
elling me, “I’ll meet you in there in a minute.”
“Is there anything I can help with?” I offered lamely.
Liam chuckled, letting his eyes travel up and down my body. “Wouldn’t want to get you all dirty. Besides, it’ll only take me a few minutes.” Then, without another word, he walked over to the control panel on the side of the tow truck. With a few clicks on some buttons and pulls on some levers, my car was lowered from the rig and safely tucked away in the back of the shop.
As he made his way back into the truck, I became mesmerized by the way his grease-covered jeans hugged his body. Loose fitting in the legs, but tight across his ass, it was as if they were specifically made for his body. As he pulled himself into the cabin, using the top of the door frame for leverage, his biceps stretched the sleeves of his plain, white T-shirt almost to their breaking point. I found myself actually licking my lips thinking about what his chest would look like as he tugged his shirt off from behind.
He backed the truck into its spot on the side of the building, affording me the time to wonder what the hell was wrong with me.
I was horny. That was the problem.
Shit.
Maybe getting together with Zan once more, simply to blow off some steam, might not be such a bad idea.
The bell jingling above the door distracted me from thinking about sex—and from the very real fact that I knew it wasn’t Zan who I wanted in my bed.
“Were you able to get a ride?” Liam nodded down to my phone, clenched tightly in my hand.
“What? Uh, no. I didn’t call.” I was such an asshole. Of course, that was why he told me to come in here. The shop was all closed up when I banged on the door and demanded his time. He was probably late to something all because of me. “I’ll try now.” Just as I began typing in the name of a local cab company into my phone, Liam’s voice cut through the awkward silence.
“Where are you headed?” The black leather jacket he pulled over his broad shoulders distracted me from answering right away.
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