by Whitley Gray
While he pulled out his cell phone, I took the keys and walked out to the front parking lot. I clicked the fob. A quiet beep sounded, and taillights flashed on a BMW sedan the same model as Gisele’s. I froze. Somewhere fate was laughing its ass off. My dream project, and it came attached to a nightmare of a memory.
“Oh, hell,” I sighed, trudging out to the sedan. “Let’s do this.”
I drove the car around the garage and did, indeed, hear a persistent knock in the engine. I lined up a mental checklist, starting with the simplest thing. By the time I pulled the car into the second bay and lifted the hood, I was smiling. I looked at troubled engines like fat guys looked at steak. No one, particularly my boss, ever complained about it or dared call me weird. At least, not to my face.
I noted the time I started working on it, put my cell down on my tool chest, and got down to business. I locked the hood in place and laid down a fender shield to protect the paint. For a long moment I stood there looking at the rubber mat. I could’ve used this on the Alfa back in the airport parking lot. It would’ve given my heels better traction.
Focus, Grace.
I removed the engine and got to work. The next time I looked up from the engine compartment, I noticed that the rest of the garage was quiet save for the radio playing in the corner. The sky beyond the bay windows was lit up by the lamp lights in the parking lot. I checked the clock. Eight. I sighed. Everyone went home and didn’t tell me? Maybe in the mood I was in, they’d opted to avoid me. Well, I wanted to bury myself in work. I succeeded.
I walked back from the bathroom with a bottle of water, prepared to rule out something else that was causing the knock. A niggling voice in the back of my head made me peek around the hood and look at the clock again. Eight fifteen.
“Big deal. Nothing on TV anyway,” I told the engine. “I’m not even hun— Oh shit.” Randy.
I doubted he’d care if I showed up in my overalls or in lingerie. He’d prefer the latter, of course, but he was only looking for a warm body. I grabbed the cell and saw three voice mails. Snarling, I pulled up Randy’s number. He answered before the first ring died.
“Yeah, hey, I’m sorry, I lost track of time. Can I take a rain check?” Great. My first date since the last ice age, and I’m a no-show. Relationships and I were a lost cause. I should just get a dog. That seemed to be the only kind of relationship I could sustain. Unless, of course, it ran off on me.
Truth be told, I didn’t want to go out with Randy anyway. It seemed like something to do and fighting off an octopus like him would keep my mind busy when I wasn’t at work. Memories of a bad date had to be better than the memories they replaced. Who knew? Maybe he wouldn’t be so awful. So what if, when I went to the parts store, I had to pick his eyeballs off the front of my shirt? A moment’s peace in his company was doubtful, but I wouldn’t know unless I tried, right?
With the promise of another date in the near future, I ended the call. All I had to do was schedule a gyn visit, and my future would be complete. Completely miserable.
“Fuck it,” I muttered as I downed some more water and got my face back under the Beemer’s hood.
Someone knocked on the bay door behind me. I saw a shadowy figure in my peripheral vision but didn’t look up.
“We’re closed,” I called out, reaching for my socket wrench. I needed to get to that—
“Grace.”
The wrench fell out of my hand, landing on the engine as hard as my stomach landed at my feet. With just one syllable, I knew who it was. My nipples went hard, and my heart pounded so fast that the spike in blood pressure gave me a headache. I wanted to see him again, but everything in me was afraid to. If I looked, I’d see the disappointment on his face or maybe worse, anger and betrayal. I’d left him in the middle of his one-week gift and disappeared with his car—that was technically mine, sort of—right after he admitted to the worst moment in his life. I was scared, but he hadn’t known that. I didn’t stay long enough to tell him. He bared his soul to me, and I ran.
I didn’t deserve him. In the end, that was what it came down to. Mom was right. I didn’t deserve anyone.
“I’m not going anywhere. If you spend the night in there, I’m going to spend the night out here. Let me in. Talk to me. Look at me. Please.”
I could’ve resisted everything but that last word. It wasn’t even the word so much as the way he said it. He was a skilled actor, true, but the way he said please. It came from his heart. I felt it.
I leaned my forehead on the hood’s edge. “I can’t.” He couldn’t have heard me as quiet as I said it. Only the Beemer knew for sure.
“You’re cute in those overalls.”
I smiled. Dammit, the man could still make me smile, even when I was scared to death.
“I love you, Grace. Let me in.”
I couldn’t move. I’d been about to, and a second before he spoke, I’d been prepared to stand up and face him. All he had to say were those three famous little words, and I wanted to shut off all the lights and lock myself in the bathroom and hope when the cops drove by, they’d…yeah, well, they weren’t about to arrest Aaron Elias. They’d probably ask for autographs, take selfies, and then unlock the door for him. If one of the cops was a woman, she’d ask him to marry her. I knew how things worked in his world. Which was why he couldn’t be in mine.
“Go home, Aaron.” I opened my mouth, my brain forming the words, I don’t love you. But I couldn’t say it. It wasn’t true.
“Why did you run away from me?”
I picked up the wrench. It’d be hard to get the gasket out with my hands shaking, but hell, I’d give it my best shot. “I can’t save you.”
“You what? You did save me. You didn’t even have to try. You showed up and—”
“I was in the right place at the right time. We had some fun. That’s it. I can’t live your life.” And I sure as hell can’t save it for you.
“I’m not asking you to.”
I gripped the wrench. “You made me wear that getup and go to that crazy-ass restaurant.”
“It was a mistake. You were right. You are who you are. I don’t want to change you.” He knocked on the plexiglass. “Let me in. Please.” When he spoke next, I heard the smile in his voice. “Don’t make me sing Henry the Eighth all night because I will.”
I looked to the rear of the bays, so he didn’t see me smile. “Bastard,” I whispered. Some movies never left you. “Okay, fine,” I barked, putting the wrench aside and wiping my hands on a rag. They weren’t clean, but I wasn’t going to touch him anyway. “Just for a minute. I’m busy here.”
When I turned for the door, I saw him there on the other side of the fake glass. He looked fresh off the sound stage in a dress white navy uniform, holding a dozen roses.
I stood, paralyzed. “What are you…?”
He grinned. “I know you love movies. I thought I’d bring one to life for you,” he said, looking around at the empty bays. “Though it’s kind of hard to sweep you off your feet in front of your coworkers when there’s no one else here.”
I muttered, “I told you. You have bad timing.” I shook my head as I walked out of the garage, through the waiting area, and stopped at the front door. Damn my trembling hands. It took two attempts before the lock clicked open, and I let him in. I stood in the doorway, unable to resist looking him up and down. “You can’t come in here. You’ll get dirty.”
Dammit, that killer smile and those hot blue eyes. “Deb can work wonders with stains,” he said, coming so close that the faintest hint of his aftershave lured me closer. I had to hold on to the doorway to resist. He shifted, holding the roses between us. They didn’t smell anywhere near as good as he did. “These are for you.”
I didn’t take them. “I’m covered in grease.”
“I can see that.” He looked me up and down. I had a tiny but delicious orgasm.
“Nope. I’m working on this guy’s engine, and he’s kind of impatient to get it back, so…”
His eyes scanned
the empty waiting area. “No one else is here?” The depth in his voice shot through me to warm, wet places. Places I’d feared might grow cobwebs in his absence.
“I can’t let you in. We’re closed.”
“And you’re busy. We can talk while you work.”
“I have to—”
He put the flowers in my arms. “It’s not brain surgery. I’ve seen you. You’re a smart lady. You’ve mastered multitasking.” His gaze drifted to the front of my overalls. I almost expected the zipper to slide to the floor because he willed it to. “You work; we’ll talk. I have all night, unless you’d rather go somewhere else?”
Under the circumstances, the garage was the safest place for me to be, and likely for both of us. He got enough attention on a regular basis, but that uniform was a magnet for curious eyes. I shook my head.
“If Jeff finds out…” I stepped away from the door.
Aaron walked into the garage like he belonged there or he owned the place. Nothing like the awkward way I’d felt walking into the studio conference room. I added jealousy of his apparent ease to the list of things about him that bugged me.
“Nice place you got here,” he said as he looked around.
“It’s not mine.”
“I gathered.” He handed me the roses. “Who’s Jeff?”
“The manager.” I put the roses on the counter and pointed to a framed photo on the wall behind the register. “That’s him.”
Aaron nodded. “Ah. Ever date him?”
I stalled out at the garage door, turning to face him. “Does it matter?”
He shrugged. “Just curious. Making small talk.”
I shut the garage door again. “Look, I really do have something I need to do, so if you’re only here for small talk, we can—”
In an instant he was up against me. All that white fabric was probably touching something dark and greasy somewhere on my overalls.
“I’m not here for small talk,” he said, his voice low and smoky. “I missed you. When I realized you were gone, I almost died.”
I swallowed hard. Beneath the sex in his tone, I saw the hurt in his eyes. “I know. I took it with me.”
His thumb stroked the edge of my jaw. “I noticed that.”
I fought not to shiver. “I was going to send it back.”
“I don’t care. I’m glad you took it.” He caressed my cheek, stroking his hand over my ear, pulling my braid forward, touching it all the way to the end until it landed over my breast where his line of sight stayed for a long moment. “It told me something.”
“What?”
“That you cared. Thank you.”
My throat went dry. I squeaked before I spoke. “Of course I did.” I tried to take a step back, to spare him any more grime, but I backed into the door. “Look, it’s really messy in here, and that’s an understatement. If I promise to meet you tomorrow, will you just go?” I didn’t know how I was going to have the nerve to do that when I couldn’t bring myself to go on a date with Randy. At that moment, that thought seemed almost laughable.
He shook his head. “No. You disappeared on me a week ago. I’m here to see you now.”
His voice could touch me. My pussy tightened, wet and hungry, and my breasts ached for the relief of his touch. The muscles in my legs, traitors that they were, went soft. I held on to the doorknob to stay up. I’d have to clean the grease off it later, but I had a problem in front of me now.
“I’m at work, and I have a job I need to do,” I said. “If you come in here, you have to stay out of my way. Not for long either. I want to get this done.”
I felt him behind me when I walked into the garage. “I’ll be here as long as it takes.”
“As long as it takes to do what?”
“Make you say you love me.”
“I don’t…” When I turned to face him, he was so close behind me that I swiped a dark streak of grease across his white jacket. “Dammit! See? I didn’t want to do that.” I scanned the garage. Maybe someone had left an extra set of overalls… But there was nothing on the rack by the break-room door. Great. Aaron had picked laundry night to show up.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “It’s not real. Talk to me.”
“Ha! That figures. Nothing about you is real.” I went to the tool chest for my socket wrench. Not where I left it. I snarled under my breath, searching the vicinity.
“Everything about me is real. Or were you not there when we made love?”
I hoped he couldn’t see me shiver with my back turned. Where the hell did I leave that damned wrench? “That’s not what I mean. It’s the rest of your life. You’re pretending to be happy, faking a career when you could be doing what means something to you. You play dress-up for people you don’t like to keep a lifestyle you don’t enjoy. You’ve been acting the part for so long you don’t know what’s real anymore. Aaron Elias is just a role you play. When you’re with me, you’re someone else.”
“Which is why I’m here. I want you in my life for that reason. When you left, you took it with you. How am I supposed to be real without you?”
I debated going to Alan’s bay and taking his wrench, but it was more trouble than it was worth, and dammit, I needed mine. “You have to be. Anything else is codependency. Well, except for the ‘co’ part, since I refuse to be dependent on you. Crap!”
“What?”
I faced him, too angry to be afraid. “Have you seen my socket wrench? It’s a silver thing, about this big with a—”
“You mean this?” He reached past me to the fender cover.
I didn’t give voice to the swear words swirling in my head like letters in alphabet soup. His smile said he knew what I was thinking, anyway.
“Thank you,” I bit out as I reached for it.
He didn’t let it go. “You owe me.”
“I what?” I didn’t step back, though the look in his eyes warned me I ought to. “What do I owe you? I sent the car back. You can have the gun.”
His brow quirked, but that was his only visible reaction. “You sent the car back?”
“It’ll get there next week. It’s on a transport. Cost me a fortune too.”
All it took was the hint of a smile and my insides sizzled like bacon. “You should’ve kept it. I meant it for you.”
I yanked the wrench from his hand. He was off guard enough that he let it go. “I can’t keep it. I borrowed it to get myself home since someone only sent me a one-way ticket.”
He stepped closer. I tried to back away, but I was trapped. How did I keep backing myself into things? First the garage door, then the Beemer’s grille. “You know why I did that, right?”
I tried to look blasé, but my body craved his touch, and my stomach was doing backflips. He was so damned close. “Some crazy idea about giving me a car.” But the idea flushed through my head. The man gave me a car. Most men wanted to give me, well, I knew what they wanted to give me and it wasn’t a car. But Aaron? Aaron wasn’t most men.
“There was that, but really, I was hoping you would stay.”
His words sank into my head one syllable at a time. “You what? You know I couldn’t do that. I have a job here. I have an apartment, and I already have a car. I also have a life. You really expected me to drop all that to live with you out in Movie Land? Where nothing is real but the bill that comes at the end of it all? When before that, we were only really together for one night? No, thanks. I’ll keep my simple life out here, thank you very much. Now if you don’t mind, this car isn’t running right, and I need to figure out why. Either stand back or make yourself useful.”
He moved to stand at the other fender. “I know what you think of my life. I thought about it a lot after you left.” He leaned under the hood where I could see him again. Where I had to face him. “I quit Man Cave 3.”
“Why? You shouldn’t have done that for me. It meant a lot of money to you and Abigail. You were building your career.”
“You were right. I wasn’t building a career. I was bu
ilding a bank account, but I was used to listening to Abigail and not my gut. Not my heart. The first time I listened to myself was that day I got on the road in New York and drove north. Then you showed up and made me see I was right. I didn’t know it then. I know it now. I fired Abigail.”
Oh, no. That was not hope lighting like the ignition to a spark plug deep in my chest cavity. I couldn’t dare let it catch or something dangerous was bound to happen. “That’s too bad. She was good for you. You said so.”
“She was good for me when I was young and getting started. She’ll be good for someone else. You’re good for me now.”
“Ha! I’m not a business manager.”
His hand covered mine, stopping me from reaching for the valve cover gasket. “No, you’re a woman and a remarkable one.” He let go of my hand, standing again and momentarily checking his palm for dirt but not wiping it off anywhere. “And it looks to me like you know what you’re doing under here. How do you stand under that thing all day without your back crying?” When he twisted side to side, I heard his vertebrae crack.
“Been doing it for a while now. I don’t even notice.” I nodded to the driver’s side. “Make yourself useful and start the car. Keys are in the ignition.”
He looked at me for a moment as if he were waiting for me to say, April Fool’s. “Sure.” Reaching into the open driver’s window, he looked at me one last time. “Ready?”
I nodded. “Go.”
The engine turned over. I listened for a while, my whole being fully switching gears to the machine in front of me instead of the problem behind the windshield. It felt good, but at the same time, I knew I couldn’t avoid him. And the knock was still there.
“Dammit.” I exhaled. “Shut it off.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
I felt like I was sitting in a closed box in a trash compactor. Everything squeezing me from all sides and no clue which way was out.
“Well, it’s not the piston rods.” I wanted to rub the tired out of my eyes, but I noticed my hands. “Okay, that’s it. I’m calling it.”
He blinked. “You can’t fix it?”
Where did my smile come from? Why did I laugh? “Of course I can but not tonight. I’m tired. I’m going home.” I walked around him to the slop sink outside the break room. Maybe once I cleaned up, I could get some fragment of energy back.
