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Luckily the doorbell rang.
“Oh, that’s probably the kombi van,” Felicity said.
“A kombi?” David looked intrigued. She sensed a kind of tension radiating out of Oliver, but his posture was perfectly relaxed.
A second later Andrea popped her head round the door. “Felicity, there’s someone here to see you—um, sorry, I didn’t quite catch your name?” She turned to the guy standing just behind her, his hands dug deep into the pockets of his faded jeans. “Shocky.” He grinned at the assembled room as he sauntered in. “G’day.”
Felicity got up too fast, nearly upended her glass on the little table next to her chair and tried to hide her clumsiness by gushing out a welcome, as if Shocky was her long-lost best friend. Shocky took it all in his stride. When she glanced at Oliver he was looking at Shocky, his dark gaze unreadable. Then both David and he stood and the three men shook hands. Shocky gazed around the room with open admiration.
“Cool joint you’ve got here. Great views.” He motioned his head towards the panorama of the river through the windows.
“Thanks, not a bad spot.” David smiled. “Would you like a drink, Sh—?”
“Shocky, yeah, you heard right. Probably shouldn’t before I take Flicky for a spin. Don’t want the cops after me.”
“Good point.”
“A kombi van, eh.” David Blake’s dark eyes were curious. “What year?”
“1996 model. I’ve modified it a bit. It’s parked out the front, you can probably see it from here.” Shocky went over to the window and pointed down to the street. “Yeah, there.”
Sure enough, the Shaggin’ Wagon stood out like a psychedelic mobile rainbow in a street full of expensive, understated cars.
David whooped with boyish enthusiasm. “Christ, will you look at that. I had an ’88 model when I was your age, Shocky.”
He lifted an eyebrow at Oliver. “We should check out the engine for Felicity. Shocky, you okay with that?”
“Sure, I’ve nothing to hide.”
“I’ve never checked out a kombi engine,” Oliver said, and for a brief second he looked like he’d caught a whiff of dog poo on someone’s shoe.
“They’re simple. None of that electronic computerised stuff. It’s the same vintage as Aaron’s first car, and you helped me check that over before he bought it.”
“Sure.” Oliver shrugged.
“Drive it into the basement, Shocky, and Oliver and I will take a look,” David said.
“What’s in the basement?” Shocky asked. “You aren’t gonna mug me and steal my van are you?”
David guffawed. “I keep a few of my own old cars down there. Don’t worry, the, erm Shaggin’ Wagon will hold its own.”
Oliver cleared his throat. Felicity felt his eyes on her and when she looked at him his brows arched in a question. She responded with a little pop of her eyes. He could keep his car snobbery to himself, she happened tolovethe Shaggin’ Wagon.
“If we’re going to be tinkering with engines I’ll go and change,” was all he said, then he turned and left.
David ushered Felicity to the lift in the hallway and they took it down to the garage. As the doors opened, her eyes nearly fell out of her head at the sight of half a dozen beautifully polished cars. They dated from the 1950s onwards, she’d hazard a guess, though she was no car expert.
“Like them?” David asked as he clicked the remote to open the garage doors. A minute later the kombi drove in. As he parked and got out, Shocky’s face was a picture of awed admiration. “Jesus Christ, a Chevy and—fuck me—a Monaro.”
David beamed. “Go and take a closer look.”
“Oh mate, this is amazing. It’s like a museum.”
While David proudly showed them around and gave them a rundown on each car, all Felicity could focus on was why Oliver was taking so long. By the time they were standing in front the Chevrolet, Oliver finally sauntered up, wearing a pair of jeans and a rather tight black T-shirt that defined the curve of his pecs and biceps to perfection.
Felicity gulped and kept her eyes firmly fixed on the beautiful shiny car.
“Ah, there you are Oliver,” David said, “Right. Let’s take a look at the engine.”
Fifteen minutes later, the sight of Oliver’s tight butt as he tinkered in the engine was proving highly distracting. When he righted himself with a smear of oil on his cheekbone and his hair slightly tousled, Felicity had to turn away and swallow a whimper.
Her shower fantasy had been right on the money. A roughed-up version of Oliver took things to altogether new heights.
“Okay,” said David after listening to the engine tick over. “Seems pretty sound. What d’you reckon Oliver, are the oil levels okay?”
“Yes, fine.” Oliver narrowed his eyes as he swiped the dipstick with a piece of cloth.
“I’m good to go for a drive, then?” Felicity asked, dragging her eyes away from Oliver’s hands.
“Go for it.” David smiled. She clambered in, grateful to escape, then managed to stall twice. Blushed madly. Finally, with Shocky’s encouragement, she got it out of the garage and onto the street. The last thing she saw in her rear-view mirror was Oliver, hands on hips and sexier than Keanu Reeves inSpeed, watching them go.
