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“I’ll get this fixed up before they can make another fresh order of noodles inside.”
He reaches back into the toolbox and pulls out something else metal, smaller and cylindrical, then comes back over to me and clicks it onto the end of the bar I was holding for him.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“That is a socket,” he replies. “A seventeen-millimeter socket. It fits BMW lug nuts. It’s used to get the tire off.”
“Ah…” I nod as he hands it back to me to hold.
Then he reaches back into the trunk, grabs a ring on the floor, and pulls. The entire panel lifts out, revealing a hidden compartment with a tire underneath.
“See, most people just keep a donut with them,” he explains. “A crappy extra tire that you can kinda sorta ride around on until you get yourrealtire fixed. Me? I have a whole extra fifth wheel and tire for situations just like this.”
“Smart.” I nod, pretending like I understand. “And you know how to change it too?”
Blake gives me a bit of a frown with a smile to go along with it. “What do I do for work, Luna?”
I remember quickly and then realize just how stupid my question was and feel myself starting to blush. “Oh, right…”
Blake grins, pulls out the tire, and tosses it onto the ground. It bounces, but he uses his foot to settle it down, and then rolls it over beside the flat and lays it down beside it. Then, he comes back to the trunk and fishes something else out that I’m proud enough to know is a jack and goes back to the front of the car.
He gets down on his knees and peers underneath like he’s looking for something. Once he’s found it, he slides the jack under and attaches a long metal handle. Then he motions to me. “Bring me that, would you?”
Quickly, I scurry over to him, proud to be his assistant, and hand him the tool I sort of helped him assemble. I watch as he goes to each lug nut and loosens them. His biceps swell as he applies force, causing the veins to swell from beneath the skin. I never even thought that I could find something like this sexy – I never even thought about it – but I as I watch him start jacking up the car, I feel myself getting more and more turned on.
It’s like my own personal pornography, watching him get the car up off the ground, take the lug nuts out and take off the flat, then put the new tire on and retighten the lugs. Thinking I should be his assistant some more, I even do my best to roll the flat back over to the trunk, but I do a terrible job at it, and Blake notices.
“Don’t worry about that,” he calls out over his shoulder. “I’ll get it when I’m finished. I’m almost done.”
Part of me wants to protest – tell him that I can totally handle it myself and that I’m a perfectly capable woman. But I don’t even bother. This is Blake’s realm of expertise, and letting him do his thing is just way hotter.
I just want to let the man be the man right now.
“Okay,” I call back, kicking my foot in the dirt and doing a little twirl. I’m biting my lower lip as I turn around and watch him finish up. He checks the tightness of the lugs, lowers the car, and dusts off his hands as he brings his tools back over to the trunk.
“Impressive.” I smile.
He grins back at me as he goes back for the flat. “Eh, it’s not that hard. Especially compared to the things I do at work.”
I watch as he puts everything back in the trunk, then uses an old bottle of water and a rag to clean off his hands.
“Ready?” he asks.
My body’s on fire. My heart is racing, and I’m licking my lips as I step over to him and run both of my hands up his arms, feeling the size of his thick, taut biceps. “Oh, I’m ready, all right.”
Blake’s eyes immediately narrow as he looks down at me. He glances behind him, and I look over his shoulder to see a small family entering the restaurant. He quickly grabs me by the waist and leads me to the passenger side door, opens it, lifts me up and nearly tosses me inside.
I yelp and giggle up at him as he looks down at me like a wild animal, closes the door, then comes around and gets in on his side and starts the car. I instantly lean over the center console and start fiddling with the zipper on his pants as he pulls out of the parking lot.
“You know, I’m getting really sick of this parents-being-home thing.”
“We’re not going home,” he says, taking a left where we should be taking a right.
“We’re not?”
“Nope.” He shakes his head.
“Where are we going?”
