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“It will only be a second,” Thad offers, rendering my excuse null and void.
“Okay.” I sigh, throwing Ben a wicked glare over my shoulder as I make my way toward the garage.
The closer I get the harder my heart pounds in my chest. Thad looks unbelievably sexy leaning over the truck. His white tee damp with sweat, grease streaked down one side of his face. I snap my mouth closed, fearful that if I don’t I might start drooling at any moment.
I avoid his gaze when I reach him, looking down to where his hand is wedged against the radiator while he tries to secure a hose.
“I just need you to hold this in place so I can tighten the line,” he instructs.
“Okay.” I slide my hand down to the hose, ignoring the way my skin prickles when his fingers brush against mine.
I don’t ask for additional instructions as I could probably replace this hose with my eyes closed. Lord knows I’ve done it enough times over the years.
Without a word, Thad grabs a wrench and begins to tighten the bracket that holds the hose in place. His arm bumps gently against mine several times as he works. With my face turned away from him, I try to hold my crap together.
As if he isn’t already the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, he also smells incredible. All man, sweat, and outdoors. His scent hits me in waves every time he moves.
It takes him less than sixty seconds to secure the hose and as anxious as I am to get away from him, I’m also disappointed that it doesn’t take longer.
I’ve met men that I’ve been instantly attracted to before, but never one that made me feel so out of sorts. From the moment our eyes met in the kitchen earlier today something about him got to me. I don’t know how to explain it.
“Thanks for your help.” His voice sends a chill down my spine and I quickly retract my hand from the engine, taking a full step back.
“Yeah, no problem.” I shrug, wiping my hand on my jeans.
“You don’t remember me, do you?” he asks, forcing me to meet his gaze which I have successfully avoided up to this point.
The minute those light blue eyes are on mine I go blank. “Huh?” I stupidly say.
“That’s probably a good thing.” He smiles and I swear my knees wobble at the sight. “I’m Thad.”
“You shoved me off the swing set when I was four,” I announce, feeling heat flush my cheeks.
What the hell is wrong with me? I am not the girl that gets all flustered and unsure in front of men. I’ve never been that girl...ever. So why the hell do I feel like I’ve forgotten how to act all of a sudden?
“So you do remember me?” He smirks.
“Hard to forget someone who was responsible for my first broken bone,” I counter, finding some semblance of control over myself.
“Yeah, sorry about that.” He chuckles and it’s like kryptonite to the wall I’ve been trying to hold up since this morning. It crumbles and I feel myself smiling right along with him.
“I guess I can forgive you.” I shrug playfully.
“Thanks for that.” He picks up a dirty rag off the engine before slamming the hood of the truck down. “Well, I guess you need to get inside to help your mom. I won’t keep you. Thanks for your help.” He gestures to the truck.
“Yeah, no problem.” I give an awkward wave before quickly turning and running back to the house.
—-
Imanage to avoid lookingat Thad for most of dinner but by dessert my will has depleted and I find myself glancing in his direction more times than I care to admit.
I can’t help it–he’s just so damn good looking. He showered at some point before dinner, his raggedy white tee replaced with a light blue one that makes his eyes pop even more. His hair is still damp and combed back, putting his gorgeous face on perfect display.
Lord help me. If someone had told me this is what I was missing by not being here I think I would have come home a hell of a lot more often. I could stare at him all day long and dream about what it would feel like to have his full lips pressed to mine. To have his rough, calloused hands glide across my skin. To feel his thick hair slide through my fingertips.
A conversation floats around me but I digest very little of what’s being said. It’s like I’m here, yet not really. I’m hyper aware of myself–of every move I make, every sound I create, to the point that the only thing I can focus on is that and the heat that flushes through my veins and covers my cheeks every time Thad looks up and meets my gaze.
“I got the Chevy going. Just needed a new radiator hose.” When Thad speaks, I hone in on him, hanging on to every word as it leaves his mouth. In my mind he’s speaking the most beautiful poetry and not talking about my father’s old beat up truck.
