The Mechanic - Vanessa Waltz Page 0,1

strong jaw and his pouting lips, the bristles black. My God. He’s rugged and all man. And gorgeous. I must be dehydrated. Hallucinating. The ripples in the air from the heat somehow manifested into this mirage.

He pauses mid-stride when his eyes cut at me. Warmth builds in my chest as he takes in my appearance, a smirk lifting the side of his Han Solo grin.

What are you looking at?

Hell, I know I must look ridiculous. Totally out of place. I actually dressed up for my four-hour drive to this middle of nowhere small town, Fair Oaks. His gaze lingers on my black pumps, ill-suited for this foresty place, and then it travels up my skinny jeans to the sweetheart tank top. My heart jumps when his intense blues meet mine.

The two men walk to the car. Hank talks to the mechanic, who nods along and seems to be half-listening, half-staring at me. The mechanic walks with a sort of lithe grace that I’ve never seen on a big man.

I can’t take my eyes off him. I swallow hard as he ducks his head under the hood of my car and leans over. His pants ride low enough to show a sliver of black briefs. For a moment, I’m mesmerized by the sight of his jeans stretched tightly against his ass. With both men’s backs facing me, it’s safe to stare. And I do.

What the hell is wrong with me? I feel like some kind of perv, checking out the mechanic’s ass while his back is turned.

He’s here to fix your car, not for you to drool over.

Then he straightens, grabbing the red flannel shirt and wiping his hands. The owner dismisses Hank, who plods back into the garage. A sudden flush heats my neck as the mechanic gives me his full attention.

“I’m Olivia.”

He takes my proffered hand, his skin sliding like sandpaper in mine. “Name’s Gage. I’m the owner,” he says in a voice as rough as the calluses on his palm.

The air freezes in my lungs as his warmth seeps into my veins. He’s close enough for me to study the intricate details of his many tattoos. God, he’s totally not my type, especially with those grease marks on his chest and arms. He’s dirty and smells like a combination of metal and manly musk. There’s no way he’s the owner. A businessman wouldn’t show up to work half-naked, unless the auto shop doubles as a Chippendale’s.

“You’re the owner?”

“Who were you expecting?”

I’m still holding his hand. My cheeks burn. “Someone wearing more clothes.”

There’s laughter in his eyes as he lets go of me. “I’d say I was sorry, but you don’t look too upset by it.”

Usually arrogance doesn’t send a thrill down my spine. Is he flirting with me? Gage’s stare licks my skin as he stands way too close.

“Where are you from?” he demands. “You’re definitely not from around here.”

“Do the pumps give me away?”

“The tight jeans, shoes, everything about you screams, city girl.”

“I’m getting the feeling that you don’t care for city girls.”

“I like them just fine, sweetheart. Especially when they’re dressed like you.”

Sweetheart. My cheeks burn. If somebody back home called me that, I wouldn’t give him a minute more of my time. Except that I’m not outraged, right now. I’m interested.

His eyes burn with the intensity of two small suns, lingering at the silver zipper dangling in the middle of my fuck me tank top. It’s unzipped just half an inch; enough to give anyone who cared to look a nice view of my tits.

My whole face, I think, goes up in flames. The heat must be addling my brains.

Whoa, Olivia. What the hell are you doing with this guy?

The engagement ring in my pocket burns through my clothes. Mark cheated on me. It’s over. Isn’t it?

“I—I need my car fixed.” Wow. Way to completely wuss out. He’s hot and you’re single.

A feline smile spreads across his face, which seems to say, changing the subject already? “What happened?”

“I don’t know. Everything was fine until I reached a few miles out of town. I heard a noise and there was a lot of smoke.”

He gives the car a thoughtful look, his frown becoming more and more pronounced as he pokes around. Finally, he raises his head. Deep blue eyes narrow at me. “Well, looks like your engine is fucked. Did you skip oil changes or something?”

“Hell no. I took care of my baby.”

Gage points to the smoking engine. “Your baby wasn’t taken care of, sweetheart.”

The condescending