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“Give me the drip pan,” Bently said, reaching his hand out.
TJ handed him the black plastic container as the asphalt bit into his shoulder.
“Now the socket wrench, and get down here and you can see what I’m doing better,” he directed. The cold metal pressed into his palm, before TJ bent and crawled under the jacked Ford Focus.
“You sure it isn’t going to fall and crush us?” he asked worriedly.
“Yeah, even if it fell, we got the tires to protect us. It’s pretty secure though.” Bently lined up the drip pan underneath the right location. “Okay, so take this socket wrench and put it on the oil drain plug there.” Bently handed the tool over to the young man. “Pull it to the left.”
TJ did as he was told and the bolt loosened.
“Perfect. Now unscrew it with your hand the rest of the way. But watch out, it drains fast.”
Black liquid poured out into the plastic bin.
TJ’s large grin highlighted his white teeth. “Now what?”
“After it’s done draining, we’ll put one of these new gaskets on to make sure it won’t leak, and get it nice and tight.”
Bently walked TJ through the rest of the process, taking time to answer his questions.
“Now it’s done, we can put some fresh oil in from under the hood.” He inched out from under the car, his eyes meeting the very fine legs of the woman he couldn’t get out of his head. He took his time as his gaze lazily crawled up her curves, modestly hidden in those blue scrubs she wore. Her brown spheres slammed into his with so much force. Gratitude he didn’t deserve radiated out of her, saturating the air between them. How long had she been watching them?
Bently wiped his hand on the rag and stood. “Almost ready for you to go to work.”
“You changed my oil?” she asked, searching his face for an explanation. There wasn’t one, except, something inside him drew him to her like a moth to the flame. He may not be able to give her everything she needed, but he could take care of her in these little ways.
“TJ mentioned it the other night at dinner.” He hoped she’d drop it and they could move on with their day.
“And he showed me so I can do it next time,” TJ said, patting him on the shoulder.
Belle looked between him and her brother, her eyes going glassy as she blinked.
“Aww, don’t cry, sis.” TJ wrapped his arms around Belle.
Bently’s own hands itched to do the same. Why was she acting like this was a big deal?
“You need a shower.” She laughed, pulling out of her brother’s embrace.
“Yeah. Have a good night at work,” TJ said, walking backwards towards the house. “Wanna order a pizza, Bently? Then I’ll school your ass in Madden.”
“Sounds good,” he agreed as the young man disappeared inside. He bent and picked up the tools before placing them back in his toolbox.
“Thank you. No one’s . . . I mean . . . this means a lot,” Belle said, stepping closer.
Bently gathered the quarts of fresh oil and poured it into the dispenser. “It’s not a big deal.”
“It is to me,” she said quietly.
He capped off the top and shut the hood of the car. “I’ll get it off the jack and you’ll be all set.”
He did as he said and put his tools in the back of his truck, along with the old oil he’d drop off to Link to recycle at the garage.
Two arms wrapped around him as he turned, encompassing him in a hug. His chest squeezed tight, something snapping inside. Careful not to get his stained hands on her, he hugged her back. He breathed her in—cocoa butter and vanilla. He’d hang on to the moment as long as it would last, stealing it like a thief.
“You’re a good man, Bently Evans.” Her words unlocked something deep inside him. As much as he wanted to argue, having her think that of him put a little piece of him back together.
He leaned in and kissed the top of her head before she released him. He didn’t know why he’d done it at dinner a few days ago, except that not putting his mouth on her in some way felt wrong. It wasn’t sexual. It was . . . something deeper. Friendship. That’s right. He was just being a good friend.
