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My gorgeous mechanic cleared his throat. “She doesn’t have any money,” he admitted. “Not up front anyway. So when it came to payment, I was thinking one of two things...”
My eyebrows knitted together in confusion. This was news to me. Tate hadn’t even told me one thing, much less two.
“First, she could pay you after she rents the place out,” said Tate. “Give you a chunk of the rent she’s bringing in each month, until you’re all paid off.”
“So I’d be laying it all out?” asked Cole.
“Yes.”
“Not sure I like that idea,” he growled.
He was scanning the basement again. Looking past all the junk my ex-husband piled down here and adding things up in his sexy bald head.
“Neither do I,” Tate countered, “so here’s another: you rent the place when it’s finished. You stay down here for free until you’re all paid off, and then she charges you rent from that point forward.”
Cole hesitated a few long seconds, then made a grunting noise like Vin Diesel would make. He glanced back at Tate.
“Yeah?”
“You’re looking for a place anyway,” Cole shrugged, “and this is right where you want to be. You could make it yours, bro. Build it to suit.”
“What kind of rent are we talking?”
He was looking at me now, as if I had any idea what I should say. Cole’s arms were folded over his chest, his mouth pursed forward in a way that made him look even more ruggedly handsome. Especially with the faded jeans and flared-out workboots.
“I… umm…”
“We’d have to work on that part,” said Tate. “But whatever it was, it’d be reasonable, because you helped the lady out.” He turned to me. “Right?”
“Yes,” I agreed immediately. “Of course.”
Cole did a slow three-sixty, taking in everything around him. He set his hands on hips.
“Well mom always did say you don’t need a reason to help people.”
Tate punched him in the arm hard, shouting “That’s the spirit!” Cole barely moved, though.
When he was done sizing everything up, he shook Tate’s hand. “Give me until tomorrow. I’ll need to price out materials and run some totals.”
“Sounds good,” Tate agreed.
“Nice to meet you Serena,” Cole grinned. Smoothly, he extended one big Vin Diesel hand. It didn’t just envelop mine, it dwarfed it.
“You too,” I smiled back, as he turned and left through the outside entrance.
Two minutes later we were back in the living room, listening to the rumble of Cole’s work truck as it left the curb. It was late but not too late. Cole had come over around ten o’clock, right smack in the middle of our nightly routine.
“You’re finished with the car for tonight,” I said.
“Could be,” shrugged Tate. He’d taken his gloves off, but still wore his jumpsuit.
“It wasn’t a question,” I countered. “It was a statement.”
I took a step toward him, then another. Butterflies erupted in my stomach thinking about what I was about to do.
“I guess I could finish the air intake assembly. Maybe tie up a few loos—”
My hand reached his chest and I shoved him, backward, into the chair he was standing in front of. Tate half-fell, half-helped himself to an instant seat.
