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Chapter 1
Serena
“What’s the German word for order or order number?” my dad bellowed, covering his phone’s speaker.
“Umm, I think it’s Bestellnummer,” I replied, as I eyed the oil cap under the hood of the car.
He should already know by now that he’d been ordering car parts from across the world, especially Germany, for over twenty years.
I was just about to return to the oil change I was doing, when his frustrated groan echoed across the garage.
“Why do I always get cut off after being passed back and forth from one place to the next?”
“I don’t know why you don’t just do the orders online. I’ve shown you countless times how much easier it is.”
“I did try, but they could not process the order and said I needed to call the customer service line.”
“Why don’t you try the chat button on their website?”
His lack of response made me look up, and I couldn’t stop the smile spreading across my face as I watched him glare at me with slow-blinking eyes.
“I’m not chatting to a robot.”
I didn’t know why he felt the need to use air quotes. I knew arguing with him about technology was an utterly wasted effort. The slight wrinkles around his eyes crinkled as he scratched the white stubble along his jaw, which stood out in such contrast against his sepia skin.
“I’m going to try to call again from the phone in the office. I’ve got no more bookings for the rest of the day, but shout me if you need anything.”
“Yes, I know.”
Turning the radio back up, I returned under the hood of the ’74 Datoun.
It wasn’t often I got the chance to work on cars anymore with the hours I worked and living in Manhattan, but Dad always let me tinker with something every time I came to visit.
The distinct sound of constant rattling accompanied the rumble of an engine. It wasn’t just the continual rattling but the godawful rotten egg smell that accompanied the car that pulled through the open doors of the garage. Still grimacing at the smell that now permeated my nostrils, I attempted to breathe slowly through my mouth as I watched the driver’s door open. Looking up, I expected to see one of our regulars. However, to my surprise, one of the hottest guys I had ever seen stood before me.
He was tall, about six feet three inches, with broad swimmer’s shoulders that encased a Ralph Lauren blue checked shirt, his sleeves rolled up, exposing muscular forearms with a luxury gold watch on his right wrist. Dark jeans hugged his thighs, and he wore a pair of brown leather loafers. My eyes cruised back over his body and found his face. He had stubble that did nothing to hide his strong jaw. His eyes were a shade of blue I would only see in the oceans of the Caribbean, and he had dark blonde bed hair that couldn’t look any sexier if he tried.
Eyeing the keys in his hand, I gazed at the lovely car he was leaning against. I wiped away the beads of sweat I could feel forming on my temple.
“Can I help you?” I asked.
“I need someone to look at my car,” he answered sternly.
His impatient tone didn’t shock me, but the cold smirk and the singular raised brow on his face contradicted it.
I bet this guy had never had to work hard for anything in this life. I was sure the Abercrombie model-looking, blue-blooded guy got everything and every woman he’d ever wanted. I’d had my fair share of these types of guys at Columbia. Rich, spoilt, and would go on to inherit their fortune without a care in the world. Although they thoroughly annoyed me with their snide, underhanded, sexist, and racist comments and jabs, they gave me more glory and satisfaction by coming to the top of my class. So why was this guy making my nipples hard?
I took the keys from him, making sure not to get the oil that was still on my hands on his. I opened the door and popped the bonnet open to look.
“Do you know what you’re doing?” he asked me.
Ugh. Typical man. Does he think women knew nothing about cars?
“Yes. It looks like your head gasket has gone.”
The smirk on his face had now transformed into a look of shock. Ha, that shut him up.
“This is my father’s shop. He’s on a call right now but should be done in a minute and can then book you in for the repairs.”
