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“Riding solo today?” Joker asks as I walk into the open garage bay.
“Yep,” I answer, popping the p at the end. “I have graduated to being by myself.”
Today marks my third week at the garage. Aunt Betty, as she instructed me to call her, worked with me for the first two weeks, giving me all her knowledge of the job tasks, the customers, and the guys at the shop. I think she was trying to play matchmaker a few times, but I ignored her little comments and stayed on track. I was here for a job, not a man. Even though there was one man who I couldn’t get out of my head.
“We should get a drink to celebrate your graduation,” Joker calls out as I pass by the truck that he is working on.
“Yeah, I think I’ll pass,” I tell him with a chuckle as I open the door between the garage and the office area.
The lobby area is empty, so I set my stuff on my desk up front and run my lunch back to the break room. When I return to my desk, Joker is leaning against the high top that separates my desk from the lobby area.
“You wound me,” he says dramatically with his hand over his heart.
“I’m sure you’ll find someone to make it better,” I comeback.
One thing to come out of working with the Dead Demons crew is that I have learned how to banter with them and come out of my shell. It took me a few days, but I learned quick that it was better to have a comeback to their banter, then be quiet. They were never mean, and it’s all in fun, which makes the day that much more enjoyable.
“Make what better?” Reaper asks as he rounds the corner from his office.
It’s taken me a while to get used to calling him Reaper, but I prefer Micah so much more. I would never tell him that, but I feel more connected to him when I use his given name.
“My wounded heart,” Joker answers as he walks back into the garage. Rolling my eyes at his antics, I take a seat and bring my computer to life.
“What’s wrong with his heart today?” Reaper asks as he stares at Joker’s retreating back.
“I turned him down for drinks,” I answer as I log into the payroll system. We input payroll on Mondays for Fridays, so I want to get it completed before noon, so if I run into any problems, I have plenty of time to correct the problem. Something in the air changes and I look up to see Reaper staring into the garage, his angry face something I have never seen before. “Reaper,” I whisper, unsure of what is going on.
“I’ll kill him,” he growls low, the sound sending shivers across my arms.
“What, what’s happening?” I ask as I stand and walk around the desk. Is something happening in the garage? What’s going on? I look out to the bays, but all I see is Joker smiling at Reaper. I look back at Reaper, but his eyes are on me.
The bell on the door jingles, and the trance we were in wanes. “Come see me before you go to lunch,” Reaper calls as he heads out to the garage and leaves me with the customer.
“Okay,” I mumble as I switch gears and help the customer who has just entered.
As the day progresses, I finish up payroll with no hiccups, assist more customers, and am in the process of starting the supply order when Reaper walks in. Even with a grease smudge on his face, he still takes my breath away. His brown hair peaks out of the sides of his hat, indicating that it’s time for a trim, but he still rocks it.
The corner of his mouth tips up and I know I’ve been caught staring. I can’t keep track of the times he has caught me staring. But I’ve caught him quite a few times too. Just thinking about him watching me has my heart racing. Does he feel what I feel? Does he like what he sees?
“Let me clean up, and then we’ll head out,” he says as he walks past my desk to the bathroom.
Head out? What is he talking about? I’m still mulling it over in my head when he returns in seconds, wiping his face and smearing the grease.
I grab the cloth from his hand and step up on my toes to clean it off for him. Unaware of how close we stand, I work gently to remove the grease from his face, basking in being in his bubble. His hand grasps my wrist, causing me to halt my movements.
I try to pull away, but his hand on my wrist engulfs my hand as he holds it to his check. He takes a deep breath with his eyes closed, and my nerves settle as he opens them to me and smiles. His presence brings a calm that I have never experienced, while my senses heighten with his touch.
“Thanks,” is all I get before he drops our hands between us and gives a slight tug. “Let’s go, I’m starving.”
My feet stay rooted to the floor when Reaper pulls my hand. When he feels my resistance, he stops and turns back to me. “You ready for lunch?”
“Yeah, it’s in the back.”
“Save it. I’m taking you to lunch.” He gently pulls again on our joined hands and I silently follow.
My brain is buzzing with questions, but I hold them in, not wanting to ruin the moment.Does he realize he’s still holding my hand?
“I know,” he answers my silent question; giving my hand a quick squeeze as we stop near at his bike.
