Page 84 of Fall Fake-Out

Men should not be allowed to casually remove shirts in public. There should be permits involved. Background checks. Something to safeguard women who are trying not to be attracted to their fake boyfriends.

With the jack in hand, he drops down to a crouch beside the tire. Meanwhile, I’m standing three feet away, pretending not to stare, which would be more convincing if I weren’t actively staring.

The late-afternoon sun catches against his skin. His brow furrows slightly while he adjusts the jack beneath the truck. With each crank, the muscles in his back and arms shift in the most attractive way. Triple A who? Calling them would’ve been a sin.

“Hand me the wrench.”

I nearly jump. “What?”

“The wrench. You know, so I can loosen the lug nuts.”

A shirtless man saying lug nuts is a terrible combination for my brain right now.

“Ari?”

My eyes snap from Wade’s body to his face. “Yes?”

“The wrench.”

Right.

Tools.

Tire.

Reality.

I quickly pass it over.

Wade doesn’t seem to notice that my brain has completely left the chat. He’s too busy loosening lug nuts and doing mysterious tire-changing things that I don’t understand but that look insanely sexy.

And it’s not just the muscles.

Okay.

It’s a lot the muscles.

But it’s also Wade’s confidence and competence. The two Cs that weren’t even on my radar five minutes ago. I respect his abilities. I’m insanely attracted to them. And I’m seeing why people trust him.

“You see,” he says, cutting into my daydream, “it’s all about having the right tools.”

“Oh, you definitely have the right tools,” I mutter under my breath.

He flips his head to me. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“After that, it’s all about torque and leverage.”

That’s when I cough out a laugh. “Stop! We don’t need any more tire lingo.” Especially when my mind keeps assigning double meanings to everything he says.

“Why?” He flashes me a silly grin. “Changing a tire is wheely important.”

His stupid dad joke makes me laugh again.

And now I’m attracted to him for a completely different reason than his outstanding six-pack.

Somewhere between the student stories, the pallets, and the flat tire, Wade has stopped fitting neatly into the irresponsible category I’ve assigned him.