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Franklin Carter was her neighbor.
Gloria wanted to giggle whenever she thought of his full name. Carter. Car-ter. Guy was a mechanic who owned his own garage and his surname was Carter.
Poor man.
He totally missed an opportunity with his sign, though. Why call his shop Franklin’s Garage when he had the gift of being named Carter?
She tried not to watch him as he worked on her car. Impossible. That was almost as difficult as keeping her laughter under control. Which she should since his eyes slid over her way every time she let slip another giggle.
Gloria was sure he knew what she was thinking about. Then again, maybe not. Because, as funny as his name was to her, focusing on her good humor was way easier than obsessing over why she was so strongly attracted to a man she had barely talked to.
She covered her mouth, ducking her chin into her chest, pretending to be utterly fascinated by the outdated magazines that were left for any customers to read.
Once Franklin got to work on her car, Bailey took her seat at the desk again. Gloria thought about trying to engage the girl in conversation before realizing that the textbooks belonged to her. She was working on her schoolwork and Gloria didn’t want to bother her.
She also didn’t want to watch Franklin as he devoted every inch of his attention to taking care of her car. That, however, was way easier said than done.
He really was the most alluring man she’d ever seen before in her life. Seriously. Who needed perfection? Franklin was rough and tumble and just really, really hot. He was rugged and handsome, with a hint of a five o’clock shadow that had her almost swooning
in her seat.
Plus, she was super impressed at how he could stare into the depths of her hood, tinker with a belt, move a wire, nod to himself, then start her car and smile.
It was the smile he wore as he slipped out of the driver’s seat and tapped the top of the car with the flat of his wide hand.
He didn’t shoot it her way or anything. It was like he had forgotten anyone else was even in the garage with him except for Gloria’s old car. She… she recognized that satisfied smile. Her lips often curved upward in just the same way whenever she took the first taste of a new ice cream creation and it came out even better than she had expected.
Franklin’s smile? It was the smile of a master at their craft who proved once again that they knew exactly what they were doing.
Franklin dove right into the engine again. He removed a part, placed it on a table near him, then disappeared into the back room. He emerged holding a piece that was a match for the one he had just removed. Bending over the hood once more, he quickly replaced the part.
Back in the car again. This time, when he restarted the engine, even Gloria could hear the difference in the purr.
After turning the car off, he slid out of the car, closing both the door and the hood with a muffled slam. Grabbing his rag from his hip again, he started to wipe off the most recent layer of dirt and grease and grime from between his fingers as he strode toward Gloria.
He jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward the car. “It should be okay now.”
“Great.” Gloria set down the magazine that she’d been using as a cover to watch Franklin work. Reaching for her purse, she asked, “How much do I owe you?”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s on the house.”
“Really?”
“Really?”
Franklin scowled over at his sister. “Shouldn’t you be working on your homework or something?”
Bailey held up her notebook.
Gloria reached into her purse, pulling out her wallet. “It’s okay. I can pay. You did me a huge favor, taking care of my car on short notice.”
Franking waved her away. “Consider it a welcome present.”
Welcome to Hamlet, right?
“But—”
“I insist.”
