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That didn’t help my pulse. His strides were confident, an easy swagger that threatened to tent my skirt. I had to actively stop myself from striking a sensual pose.

You’re here for repairs, not a date. Act like you have two functioning brain cells, dweeb.

“You need something checked out?” he asked.

Me. Take as much time as you need, Mr. Mechanic.

Shoving my lust into the passenger seat, I forced myself to focus, and noticed the easiness of his voice. There wasn’t an edge to it. No condescending smirk or judgmental glance at my outfit.

I pushed my sunglasses up on my head and gave him a smile I hoped passed for relaxed. “Depends. Are you about to say something catastrophic?”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “I usually save that for after I take a look under the hood.”

That smile did something filthy to my insides. If I didn’t keep my libido in check, that tent was a real possibility.

“Calvin sent me,” I said. “My car started making a noise, and since I’m deeply attached to not dying in traffic, I took his advice and came here.”

Recognition flickered across his face. “Calvin’s friend.”

“That obvious?”

“He mentioned you.” He stopped by the hood and nodded toward the latch. “Pop it for me?”

The hood, not your hips.

I reached inside and hit the release. Then I moved to the front while he lifted the hood. Heat rolled up at us, and not the pleasurable kind. He propped it open and leaned in, eyes moving over the engine with quick familiarity.

Up close, he was worse. Better. Worse for me. There was a small oil smudge along the side of one hand. I wanted to be a calmer person about both.

Unfortunately, my cock was voting for a naughty mechanic fantasy right here in the lot.

“You got a name?” he asked.

“Niles.”

He glanced up. “Deadeye.”

“Seriously?” Why did that name make things better, not worse? It fed right into the fantasy I was trying very hard to suppress.

His mouth twitched as humor glinted in those baby blues. “Seriously.”

“Well. That’s reassuring in an auto shop.” I had no idea what that meant, but whatever. Clearly I was down to one functioning brain cell.

He laughed under his breath and reached deeper into the engine. I watched his hands move, then forced my eyes to look anywhere else before I embarrassed myself by openly ogling his ass.

From inside the garage, someone shouted for a socket. Another voice hollered back. A compressor kicked on. The lot buzzed around us, but standing at the front of my dramatic car felt oddly separate from it for a second.

Deadeye listened to the engine while I started it again, then had me turn it off. He checked something else, tightened his jaw a little, but not in alarm. More like concentration.

I hated that I found concentration attractive.

Finally, he stepped back and hooked the rag into his back pocket. “Can you come look?”

“Those are usually words that end in me crying.” Christ. I did not just say that. Usually, I was a queen at flirting. But today, my game was as embarrassing as the noises my car was making.

I would’ve asked if my day could get any worse, but I didn’t want the universe to take that as a challenge.

“Try me,” Deadeye said.