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Even so, she wouldn’t lose sight of her objective in coming here. Being with Brad had helped show her that she still lived in a lot of boxes, and the time had come to break free.
She’d visited the shop a few times before yesterday, and his men had always treated her as if she were a possibly hostile visitor from another planet. Always polite, yes, but also wary. Before she’d accepted that as the way things were. Now? It seemed imperative that she make friends with these men. Or at least try.
Still smiling, she reached over the counter to turn up the radio one of the other mechanics had lowered upon her entrance. “I’m looking for all of you, actually. And please, don’t turn off the music on my account. I loved Brad’s show last night.”
Kevin returned her smile. “Yeah, he has this thing about singing near closing time. It started as a joke—now he does it whenever the shop’s empty. Me and the guys join him sometimes. ‘Course only Woody has a decent voice. The rest of us sound like a bunch of warbling cats.”
“Cats in heat,” one of the other guys put in.
Sara laughed. “I don’t believe that. Why don’t you sing something for me?”
“You expect us to sing for our supper, huh?” He leaned in close and added, “Is this payment for that super rush job the boss did for you?”
Was it her imagination or were Kevin’s eyebrows wiggling? “Nope. Just thought some hardworking men needed a good lunch. And maybe I was hoping for a free concert.”
“This ain’t no barbershop quartet, lady.”
Since she could tell Kevin was teasing, she cocked her head and batted her lashes. “Come on, don’t be shy. I’ll sing with you.” The words were out before she could stop herself, then she shrugged. What the hell?
“Oh really? What are you going to sing?”
She flipped the dial on the old-fashioned radio until she came to Aretha Franklin’s “Respect”. She lifted a brow. “How ‘bout it, boys?”
“You heard the lady. Hit it,” Kevin said before starting to sing in a high falsetto that made her laugh again.
A couple of the other guys picked up the song, clearly trying to outdo each other while they worked. True to her word, she sang with them. She even swayed her hips a bit at Kevin’s impatient gesture for her to dance.
By the end of the song they were all laughing, the tension broken. Everyone crowded around to grab a sandwich and she grinned, happy she’d made inroads. It was a start.
“Sara. What are you doing here?”
She braced at Brad’s crushed gravel voice and looked over her shoulder. He stood in the open garage door at the back of the row of car bays, arms crossed over his broad chest. Waiting.
Whether he wanted an explanation or for her to leave, she didn’t know. She walked toward him, determined not to flee like the coward she’d become recently.
Not anymore.
“Hey.” A sudden blast of wind tossed back her hair, and she twisted it into a quick, makeshift bun. It gave her something to do other than stare at the partial handprint on his previously pristine white shirt. Though logically she knew his “pretty” customer hadn’t dipped her hand in motor oil and tried to feel him up, she couldn’t help imagining the worst. How could any woman seeing that incredible body in tight, faded jeans and a snug T-shirt not want to get dirty with him? “Your guys are nice.”
“Since when?”
Since his impassive face never changed, she wasn’t sure if that was a rhetorical question or a joke. Or a slight. Probably a slight. “I wanted to get to know them a little. We sang together.” She shrugged. “It was fun.”
“Are you slumming on your lunch break or is there a problem with the car?”
“You’re convinced I think less of you no matter what I say.”
He jerked his shoulder. “Can you blame me?”
“Yes, I can blame you.” In fact, had she not been an advocate for non-violence, she might’ve been tempted to sock him in one of his ridiculously muscled biceps. “You’ve done very well for yourself, and any woman would be proud to be on your arm.”
“Any woman but you,” he said, clenching his jaw.
“Don’t put words in my mouth. You’re doing a hell of an impression of a guy who doesn’t know his own worth right now, and that’s not the Brad O’Halloran I know.”
“I’m not ashamed of what I do. I’m great at it, and I make a decent living. So do my men.”
