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She's cute as a damn daisy, too. In this little pink skirt, with a pearl necklace around her neck. She has no business being in a mechanic's dirty shop. But it's a nice thing to see on an early June day when it's sweltering out. It's not usually this hot in Washington until late August, but I've been sweating balls here under this damn hood.
She has dark hair with her bangs swept to the side, and she lifts her eyebrow, looking me up and down, discreetly checking me out. I get it often enough to know the cues. Maybe that sounds cocky, but when I lift the hem of my tee-shirt up to wipe my brow, I know what I'm doing.
She wants to check me out? Well, then I'll make sure this pretty little thing knows what I can offer.
A tune up like she's never had before.
"You like what you see?" I tease her, leaning against the hood of the car I'm working on. A '67 Chevy.
"It would do in a pinch."
"Is that what you're in right now?" I ask, aware of the way she's biting her bottom lip, the rise and fall of her chest. She is cute as hell and unpretentious to boot. Freckles across the bridge of her upturned nose, bright green eyes that are accentuated with thick lashes. Petite, too. Granted, I'm nearly 6'4", but this cutie barely looks over five feet tall.
"Not a pinch exactly, considering my car broke down right in front of your shop. Some might call that destiny."
"Destiny seems like a little much," I joke. "Serendipity, maybe?"
"I'll take it." She tugs on the strap of her purse, hugging it to her like a shield. I realize then she's as out of her element as she appears. She looks around the shop. "So, do you think you can fix it?"
"The car?" I ask, lost in thought; lost in the way her ass is hugged by that little skirt.
"Did you think something else was broken?" She turns to face me, leaning against the hood of the car next to the one I'm working on.
"Not from what I can see," I tell her, looking her up and down the same way she was eyeing me.
A blush covers the tops of her cheeks and I grin, liking the idea of making her squirm.
"Why don't you let me have look at your engine," I tell her, knowing exactly what I mean. But she doesn't seem to notice my innuendo, or if she does she makes no mention of it. Instead, she nods, and I follow her back across the street. It takes about ten seconds to realize it overheated because she needs coolant.
"It's a hot day. When's the last time you had an oil change?" This time I look directly into those pine green eyes of hers and lick my lips. I can't help it. If she's in need of a mechanic, I'm the one who should be under her hood.
"It's been way too long since I had an oil change," she answers, and she runs her hands over her hair, lifting it from the base of her neck. She uses her other hand to fan herself. "Is it hot out here?"
"Since you walked into the shop? Yeah, it's gotten about twenty degrees hotter."
She turns red at my words, but then she smiles, which tells me she doesn't exactly mind.
"Look," I tell her. "About the car. It's a simple fix, couple bottles of coolant will get you sorted."
"Oh, thank goodness," she says, dropping her hair.
"Let me check to see if we have what you need in stock, okay?" She nods and follows me back to the shop. "I'm Mike Malone, by the way."
"I'm Clementine."
"Like a Cutie?"
She lifts her eyebrows.
"The orange. Cuties?"
A smile breaks over her face. "That's adorable."
"You're adorable," I tell her. I don’t mean to be so frank, but I also don’t really mind speaking the truth, as a rule.
"So, this is your shop?" she asks.
"Yeah, well, I co-own it with my brother Moxon."
I'm the only one here. It's Sunday afternoon and everyone else is enjoying their day off.
"Most people have exciting things to do on the weekend, but I'm happiest here, working on my old car."
My daughter, Louisa, is with her aunt and uncle and I've got the day to myself. Ever since my brother married Millie a year ago, they've been really good about helping me out with my little girl. Millie loves having Louisa over and today they were planning on going to the farmer's market together. I'm really glad she has a woman in her life. I may have learned how to do a mean French braid, but when it comes to having a woman's touch I'm not exactly the man for the job.
"I get it. I like to be in my classroom on the weekends, organizing things and getting ready for the week. Some people say it's overkill, but I like things to go seamlessly."
