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His attention leaves me conflicted. We’re family, bound by history rather than blood. I want his touch, but not out of some sense of familial obligation. My heart wants what it wants, while my head knows we will never be anything more than old friends.
“This kind of work isn’t for goody-two-shoes elves like you.” Blake tosses a clean rag at me. Roman draws back, to my disappointment. “You’re not cut out for dirty fingernails and gas fumes for perfume. You’re no grease monkey, Bea.”
“I’m not as sweet and innocent as you’d like to believe, Blake,” I huff as I blot at the red, blotchy, superficial wound.
Roman stiffens. His jaw clenches, and I worry that maybe Blake is right. Maybe Roman does mind me taking up so much of his time. What if he considers me as nothing more than a pesky, needy little sister?
The thought crushes me, but I have to hear it from him.
“You don’t mind working on Laurel, do you, Roman?” I swallow the lump in my throat, worrying over his reply. “You still like tinkering with old cars. Don’t you?”
The shop door opens, sending another gust of cold air through the garage. A burly man with dark tendrils poking from beneath a skull cap steps in out of the cold. Blake grabs his jacket and heads to the counter to greet the gentleman.
Cold seeps into my bones. My body shivers as if the universe conspires to warn me. The urge to flee is as intense as it is in my recurring dream. I need to get away before Roman confirms my suspicion that I’m nothing more than a bother.
“Blake’s right. What will you do when it breaks down in weather like this?” Roman’s brooding eyes darken. Fire blazes in his heated stare, striking my heart with a crippling blow. “There’s no cell service on the old farm road. No calling for help. You’d freeze to death in a skimpy outfit like that.”
Roman’s eyes dart briefly over my body, hesitating when they rest on the bloody scratch. His jaw tenses. He turns his back to me and returns to the truck. He slides behind the wheel as if he were made for Laurel. He’s a much better fit for her than I am. I’m ill-equipped to keep her in top-notch driving condition. I can’t even change a tire. What if Roman’s right? I have no business puttering around in an old fixer upper.
Laurel’s engine roars to life, amplifying my pain yet fortifying my resolve to not be a burden on Roman any longer. I’ll learn how to take care of her, with or without Roman and Blake’s help.
“I can take care of myself. You don’t need to fuss over Laurel anymore, either.”
I lose my cool and throw composure to the wind, kicking off my shoes and hiking up the back of my skirt. If all I am to Roman is some little goody-two-shoes, bothersome girl, he won’t bat an eye at my audacity. I loop my thumbs into the elastic waistband of my tights and shimmy out of them. They’ll only serve as a reminder of Roman’s dismissal otherwise. I’ll grab a fresh pair at work.
The truck engine revs, briefly interrupting my internal meltdown. I glance up to find Roman staring at me with a feral glint in his eyes. His gaze sweeps my bare thighs, and a rash of goosebumps follows in its wake. My body tingles as my heart jolts.
A sense of satisfaction washes over me as a flash burn tingles my skin. Roman isn’t made of stone, after all. I close the distance between us and take advantage of the situation while I have the upper hand. Damn, if it isn’t liberating as hell to take charge instead of being bossed around.
“I’ll take it from here. You get the garage door. Don’t want to be late for work.”
Roman slides out of the driver’s seat. His fierce, wild eyes glare at me, branding me with their intensity. I wad the ripped tights in my fist and smack them against his meaty chest.
“Thanks for the lube job.”
***
Roman
“Oil change,” I mumble under my breath through clenched teeth, doing my damndest to not think about Bea, lube, and her delicate thighs in the same breath.
“What the hell, Beatrice?” Blake yells from the front desk. But his words fall on deaf ears. Bea slams the door closed and throws the truck into reverse.
I stalk across the stained cement floor to dutifully open the bay door as demanded.She asked so nicely, after all.
Sarcasm whips through me as Bea tears out of the garage faster than necessary, backing into the snowy street. She pauses to catch my eye, and I half expect her to flip me the bird. Wouldn’t blame her if she did. I should have had her back instead of sidestepping the real issue. Bea’s never a waste of time in my book. I’d go to the ends of the earth if she asked me to.
A faint smile crosses her lips, but the sadness in her eyes is what tears my heart. She doesn’t linger for long. She steps on the gas and hightails it as far away from me as possible, disappearing in a flurry of white, leaving nothing but puffs of exhaust behind.
“What the hell does she think she’s doing?” Blake hollers again from the waiting area, this time directing his irritation at me as if I have the answer.
I stuff Bea’s red and white tights into my pocket while skulking toward the customer service area. Her torn tights smooth across my calloused fingertips. It’s the closest I’ll ever dream of getting to her luscious thighs with my dirty paws.
“Said she didn’t want to be late for work.” I run a hand over my neck, placating the throbbing vein that ticks with irritation.
I’m a fool for entertaining the idea Bea could one day be mine. She’s too young, too pretty, too kind and innocent for a seasoned gearhead like me. Bea deserves the finer things in life, not some worn-down mechanic who smells like machinery. She needs someone who cleans up nice, someone without grease and grime under his fingernails and a body littered with tattoos. I’m not the kind of man a woman like Bea settles for.
I’m the man women migrate toward when they’re going through a rough patch and need a wild, fun weekend. But then they return to their safe, steady lives. I’m the man they get out of their system before someone puts a ring on their finger. I’m the man her father and brother have warned her about her entire life. And I’ve stood by them, preaching the safety mantra as I slowly die inside, agonizing over the day she chooses the safety of another man’s arms.
