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My gaze flicks between the two men. It dawns on me what they’re talking about. “You think powder would make the rubber slide easier.”
“I’ve used it in a pinch,” Ash agrees.
Drooly—or Drooly-Julie, as I’ve just decided to nickname her—stomps on me to get to Ash for more ear rubs. Instead, Taylor bends over and pats the wrinkles above and between her eyes. It’s obvious the man hasn’t spent much time around dogs. She cocks her head at him, the tip of her pink tongue showing.
He scowls down at her. “Is she dissin’ me?”
The laugh is out of my mouth before I can stifle it. “She’s memorizing your scent.”
He grunts. “Oh. That’s okay then.” He reaches out and pats her again.
“Didn’t have a dog, growing up?” I ask, tugging on one of Julie’s long, floppy ears.
“Nah, my mom was allergic.”
“That’s too bad. Dogs are great.” Julie howls her agreement. Then she scratches the ear I’d toyed with. Inspiration strikes me. “Flea powder!”
“Might work,” Ash says, nodding. “Or it might kill us.” He holds up his bare hands.
“I have gloves.”
He stands and extends his hand to help me up. Mine tingles at his touch. Somewhere along the line, my common sense must have flown away on a gust of prairie breeze, ‘cause I shouldn’t be reacting to anything about this stranger. Just because he has an intriguing smile doesn’t mean I don’t need to be careful.
I dust off my backside, wiping away any leftover palm tingles. My phone’s still in my pocket, so I’ve got a lifeline if I need it. Even if I might not be able to get to it in an emergency, it still makes me feel safer knowing it’s there.
I grab Julie’s flea powder out of the car and locate the box of nurse’s gloves I keep on hand. I turn back to the guys, who have picked up the tire and are scrutinizing it.
I pull out a pair of electric blue gloves and shove my hands down in them. Ash reaches for a pair, too, but I stop him. “Wait.”
He blinks. “Hmm?”
“Thanks, but I’ve got this.” Then, to soften my rejection, I smile and add, “Besides, I doubt your hands would fit this size glove.”
“It’ll get done twice as fast if you let us help,” Taylor says.
I can feel Ash’s piercing gaze on me as I shake out some flea powder on a gloved palm. “I’m already dirty. Let me finish this. Thanks for the tip about the powder, though.”
Taylor guffaws. “You call that dirty? You oughta see Ash and me when we tear into a car.”
My glance flicks across both men. Taylor may have worked on his share of muscle cars, but Ash? “So, you guys tinker with cars in your free time?”
“Tinker?” Taylor scoffs. He stands with his massive arms crossed, legs spread like he’s got more to say about their mechanical prowess.
“From time to time, whenever we have a day off,” Ash cuts in.
“Day off? That’s another good one.”
Ash clears his throat. I glance up from powdering my gloved hands and catch a look passing between the guys that I can’t decipher. “I like tinkering with ‘em, too,” I say. “But these older cars take a different touch from Corvettes and Bimmers. Have you ever worked on any like this one?”
“Has he ever—?"
“A few,” Ash says, once again cutting Taylor off. What’s he holding back? What am I missing? “This one’s a beauty.”
“Thanks. Wow, you’re right—the powder is working.”
It’s much easier to slide my fingers in between the rubber tire and liner to tuck it around the innertube. Ash squats beside me again. With him holding the tire steady and rotating it while I stuff the liner into place, the job does go a lot faster. Even with him watching every move. “Great tip. Where’d you learn it? From your dad?”
He shakes his head and his jaw flexes. “Here and there. Actually, I have a shop back in Missouri.”
