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Iwatched Zara eye my biceps for a good long moment before saying, “Well, if you’re sure.” I ignored my thumping heart as she came forward, dropping the WD40 on the ground as I linked my fingers to form a step for her to place her foot in. She pressed one hand on the garage wall and the other on my shoulder for balance and I hoisted her up, which wasn’t hard to do since she weighed next to nothing. She tested the window, letting out a sigh of exasperation. “It’s stuck as well.”
“You can probably lift it straight out of the frame.” I took her other foot in my hands, allowing her to take her hand off my shoulder. With both hands on the glass, she was able to wiggle it up. “That’s it. Careful.” It came out of the runners easily enough and she was able to grip the sill with one hand and pass the window down to me. I took both her feet and therefore her full weight in one hand and the window frame in the other with ease, carefully placing the window against the garage wall and taking her feet in both hands again. “Ready?”
“I’m not too heavy?” She looked down at me, her eyes shadowed with concern.
“Not at all.”
“Okay. Ready.”
I lifted her up higher still, watching while she grabbed the sill with one hand and swung her leg over, determined not to think about the spectacular view she was giving me.
“There’s a car in here!”
“Really? A car? In agarage? I’m shocked,” I said, the amusement in my voice obvious.
“Ha ha, very funny,” she chuckled as she climbed over the sill, poking her head out the window to look down at me. Christ, she really was gorgeous. If things were different…but they weren’t. I pushed the thought away.
“Ready?”
“Ready.”
She put out a hand, and I tossed the can of WD40 up to her.Good catch,I thought to myself. I heard her jump down from the counter and move around inside the garage to the roll up door and apply liberal amounts of lubricant. There was a quick, hard pull. Dust danced on the sunlight as the door rolled up. Zara sneezed.
Fuck, even her sneezes were cute. “Bless you.”
“Thank you.”
“Let’s see what we’ve got here.” I stepped forward and grabbed the cover, yanking it off to reveal Ruby’s gleaming red Volkswagen Beetle. I gave a low, appreciative whistle that had Bess cocking her head inquiringly. It looked like it had just been driven off the lot. “Wow. It’s in great condition. Almost mint.”
Zara didn’t respond. When I looked at her, she was staring at the car, a grief-stricken expression on her face. I looked away, wanting to pretend I hadn’t noticed, to give her some privacy. But out of the corner of my eye I saw her cover her face with her hands, heard her draw in a deep breath, maybe trying to calm herself. Fuck. Not knowing what else to do, I rubbed her back gently, fighting the urge to pull her into my arms. I waited while she took a few more shaky breaths. By the third she was pulling away, wiping at her eyes, not looking at me.
“Sorry,” she said.
“For what?’” I handed her a handkerchief and she took it gratefully, pressing it to her eyes. She started to hand it back to me, but I waved it away, saying, “Look, I like you, but not enough to put your snot in my pocket.”
“It doesn’t have my snot on it!” she said in mock indignation. It seemed like the teasing had helped, so I just grinned in reply while she put my hanky in her back pocket. “Okay, let’s check this out.” She walked around the car, kicking a sneakered foot against the tires, running her hands along the roof. When she pulled at the driver’s side door, it swung open easily. Grabbing the keys from her back pocket, she found the one that looked most like a car key and, slipping into the driver’s seat, slid it into the ignition, turning it. Nothing.
“Makes sense, I guess. I don’t know how long it’s been sitting here.” She wrapped long, slim fingers around the steering wheel, looking around the interior wistfully. “Might just need a battery. Probably an oil change as well.”
“I can run you up to the mechanics to grab whatever we need, if you like. Can you pop the hood for me?”
She smiled at me through the windscreen, making my pulse jump, pulled the lever to release the hood, then climbed out of the car and came around to the back, ducking her head under. I stepped back, watching her pull the dipstick out of the oil tank, quickly grab a rag from a bucket on a nearby shelf and wipe it clean, before sliding the stick back in and out. It had maybe a half inch of oil on the tip, no more. I couldn’t take my eyes off her as she lifted various covers, pulled on hoses, tested the fan belt, and finally disconnected and removed the battery. “Car mechanic in a past life?” This woman just got hotter by the minute, seriously.
“I took a course.” When I didn’t say anything, she flicked me a quick look. “I like to be able to look after myself, is all,” she said flatly. I knew there was something more to it, but I didn’t know what to say, especially when an emotion I couldn’t quite read flitted across her face. “One time, I got stuck on the side of the road at night, in the pouring rain, with a flat tire. I was young, in my late teens, and couldn’t afford roadside assistance on my part-time student wage. My mother refused to take time off work to come and help me. I was lucky that a young guy eventually stopped to help me, but I’d never felt so unsafe in my life. After that, I saved up what little spare cash I had until I had enough to take the course. I never wanted to be caught in that position again.”
I had so many questions. Where was her dad? What was the deal with her mom? Like, honestly, what kind of parent leaves their kid stranded at nighttime? And that was just for starters. But I knew there was no way I could ask any of them, so instead, I just said, “I’m glad it paid off.”
“Thanks.” She maneuvered around the car, carrying the battery out of the garage, holding on to it as I went to take it from her.
I gave her a look, then said, “I’m not trying to baby you, and I appreciate you’re a very independent woman, but you have to give it to me so I can put it in the back of the truck. My three sisters would kill me if I didn’t insist. Unless you want to walk to the mechanics with it?”
“Okay,” she replied, handing it over and going to my truck, opened the passenger door.
“One second.” I hurriedly set the battery in the bed of the truck and, grabbing a clean towel, folded it and placed it across the passenger seat. “Bess sheds. A lot,” I said by way of explanation. Whistling for Bess, I went round to the driver’s side as she bounded across the yard and into the back.
Zara climbed into the truck, glancing back through the window at Bess, who peered back at her from her perch on my big tool kit. “She’s a great dog. And so well-behaved. Did you train her yourself?”
“Yeah, I did. It took a while. I got her when she was about a year old. Previous owner hadn’t treated her very well.” I turned the key in the ignition, nosing the truck toward the gates.
