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Fucking hell.
***
Wide berth.
Give Dex a wide berth.
That was my plan for today. Don’t speak unless necessary, and absolutely do not brush hands in the toolbox again.
Hormonal Jamie had taken over, and Smart Jamie was struggling to take back control from the little hussy.
I wiped the dip stick from the oil and put it back in to check the level. It didn’t need much, but since I was here, I’d do it anyway. I grabbed the oil, filled, and rechecked the level.
Dex was still working on the car that had driven over scaffolding planks, which meant I was doing service after M.O.T after service. Not that I minded—it kept me busy, which meant there was less time to bitch with him.
The silence was quite nice, actually.
I ran through the rest of things under the hood for the service, changing where necessary, topping up and tightening various things. It was no more than routine. I leaned right over to the back where the engine coolant was. It was on the minimum level, so I bent down to grab it from the floor so I could fill it.
When I was done, I screwed the cap on both the bottle and the tank.
And paused.
Someone was staring at me.
And there was only one other person in this garage.
I put down the coolant bottle and cleared my throat, then slowly turned my head to look over my shoulder.
Dex stood in the doorway, his tank messed with oil and grime, his hair a sticking-up mess, and his light jeans ripped and dirty. His hands were that awkward stage between “I just washed them” and “This won’t come off”, something that was only exaggerated by the water bottle he held.
And his gaze was firmly on me.
“Can I help you?” I asked.
He blinked and met my eyes.
“What the hell are you doing over there?” I pushed to stand up straight.
“Right now?” He capped his water bottle. “Well, honestly… I’m just thinking you’d look better over the hood of that car than under it.”
I unhooked the hood and slammed it down, spinning on the balls of my feet.
Our eyes met properly. I didn’t like what I saw in his—desire, attraction, need. Which was obviously why a shiver ran down my spine.
I cocked a hip, putting my hand on it. “The only time you will ever get me over a hood of a car is if a wiper blade needs changing. So, unless you’re a wiper blade…”
Dex pulled his phone from his pocket and started tapping the screen.
I blinked. “What are you doing?”
He peered up at me through his unfairly thick eyelashes. “Seeing if I can get a wiper blade costume for Halloween.”
“I don’t even know how to respond to that.”
“You can buy wiper blade glasses.”
“What?”
He raised his eyebrows. “And a lady here on eBay will hand-make any costume. There’s my Halloween sorted.”
I stared at him. “You’re not getting me over anything, Dex. Definitely not a car hood. No matter what you think.”
He clutched his chest dramatically. “You wound me.”
“Unfortunately not fatally,” I muttered.
“You also underestimate me.”
“There’s a lot of that going around in this garage.” I put the bottle of coolant away.
“Touché.”
“Thank you.”
“Can I ask you something?”
I sighed and turned to face him again. “What?”
Earnestly, he asked, “Can you stop wearing those tiny shorts? Or yoga pants that make me want to touch your ass every five minutes?”
I looked down at the ripped shorts of my dungarees. “Can you keep your thoughts to yourself? Control yourself, maybe? Not look at me and see someone worth screwing?”
He licked his lips. “I don’t understand the question.”
“Oh my God. You’re like Jekyll and Hyde, aren’t you?” I grabbed a clean town from the shelf and wiped my hands. “I swear, you’re two different people. Inside this garage, you’re a raging fucking asshole. Outside of it? You’re actually a nice person who isn’t torturous to spend time with.”
“Interesting. I feel the same way about you. Except wanting to kiss you. That doesn’t seem to change no matter where we are.”
“Yeah, well, you should have done that on Saturday when I actually wanted you to, because now the moment’s gone.”
I froze, halfway through wiping my hands.
Did I just say that?
Aw, shit, I did.
Was there a chance he didn’t hear me?
Judging by the way his bright eyes were hot on me, the answer to that was no.
“Never mind,” I said quickly. “Slip of the tongue. I didn’t mean to say that. Oh look, it’s time for lunch.”
I threw the towel to the side and ran past him into the staff room. I grabbed my purse and ran back out, feeling his eyes on me the entire time.
How could I have said that? How could I not have thought that through?
Jesus, the last thing I needed was for him to know I’d wanted him to kiss me. Now, he’d know I’d thought about it. Now, he knew I was attracted to him.
