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I tossed her a bottle and shut the door. “I don’t need to say it, because you know. You’re a shit ass liar, darlin’.”
Jamie’s mouth formed a tiny ‘o’. “I have no idea what you mean.”
I eyed her before sitting back down. “Mhmm.”
Her lips twitched, but she dipped her head and turned away before I could see how wide the smile got.
She was playing me.
And it was working, because I wanted to know more about that skirt.
Shit.
***
I put down the phone and walked back into the garage. After getting rid of one car, taking another, and two phone calls, I was out of tolerance for people. Which was exactly why I needed someone to do reception for me. I could do cars all day—people?
That was another story.
Jamie was sitting on the counter top at the side of the workshop. Her bare legs swung back and forth, and as I cast my gaze up and over them, there was one difference.
She’d taken off that damn sweater.
And the skirt was as short as it looked. At least, the way it rode up her thighs made it look like that way.
Shit.
I cleared my throat.
She glanced up from her phone. “Yes? Do you need me?”
Oh, shit.
“No. I was just…” I coughed.
She half-smiled.
“You weren’t kidding about that skirt.” My eyes wandered to her legs once more.
“My eyes are up here, Romeo.”
“I know, but your legs are down here, darlin’.”
She sighed and jumped off the counter. She tugged down the skirt, but it really didn’t do much. “I wear shorts this short literally every day.”
I hovered there a little longer before I brought my gaze back up to meet hers. “And I look at your legs literally every day. Not this obviously, but it still happens.”
Jamie rolled her eyes and put her phone down. “We just managed a whole conversation without arguing.”
“Mhmm.” I turned away from her and discreetly adjusted my pants.
We might have managed it without arguing, but we didn’t manage it without me thinking about how pointless the presence of that skirt was.
How easy it’d be to hike it up over her hips…
“I saw that!” Jamie called.
“Dunno what you’re talking about!” I shouted right back.
“An earthquake is more discreet than your ability to adjust your pants, Dexter Ryne.”
I groaned and turned around. “What do you expect me to do? I tell you yesterday I’d love to fuck you, and now you show up to work looking like that.”
She held out her hands, the picture of innocence. “My shorts are all wet.”
“If I had less restraint, your panties would be wet.”
Pointedly, Jamie looked at my cock. “Oh, yes. Look at that restraint.”
“It’s inside my pants and not you. That is restraint.”
She looked back up with a withering look. “Whose fault is that?” She raised her eyebrows quickly before turning and going to the six-foot-tall toolbox.
I watched as she opened a drawer and pulled out a wrench.
And it hit me.
I leaned against my Dodge and folded my arms, studying her for a moment. Her white tank top hugged her entire body perfectly, and the frayed hem of the skirt barely crept two inches beneath her ass.
“Wet shorts, huh?” I asked.
“Yep.” She got down on her knees, flashing the bright-red panties she was wearing.
Motherfucker.
“Nothing to do with the conversation we had yesterday, then?”
“The one where you said you wanted to fuck me then left?” She glanced over her shoulder with one eyebrow raised. “That one?”
“That one,” I confirmed.
“Nope. Nothing at all. Wet shorts. I told you.”
“You’re the worst liar in the history of liars.” I pushed off the wall and dropped my arms. “I’ve seen you wear at least five different pairs of shorts since you started working here. There’s no way they’re all wet.”
“You took notice of my shorts?”
“Yeah. I stare at your legs a whole lot.” I stopped next to her, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her up to standing.
She bit the inside of her cheek. “I forgot to do laundry.”
“You did it yesterday while I was there.”
“I didn’t pull it out the washer.” Her cheeks flooded bright pink.
“You’re adorable when you lie. Or, rather, when you try to.” I pulled her closer to me. “I think you wore that skirt on purpose, because otherwise, you wouldn’t have just flashed me your underwear.”
Jamie wrangled her wrist from my hand and walked backward, only just avoiding tripping over a wire on the floor. “I swear, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I think you wore it because you’re trying to prove a point, except I don’t know what that point is.” I met her step-for-step, almost stalking her until she almost had her back against the tall toolbox.
Her tongue darted out over her lips. “You’re losing me, Dex.”
I closed the distance until she was flat against the front of the box.
“Watch it. I have a weapon.” She held up the wrench.
