“I like you, Grace. I enjoyed spending time with you in PCB, and I’m not quite ready to let that go yet.”
God, did she want to believe that. Thankfully her cynical, logical brain kicked in. “Ah, I see.”
“I don’t think so, not with that snarky look on your pretty face.”
“Admit it. You just want to finish what we started. You think you can charm your way into my bed. Or charm me into your bed.” She tipped her chin toward his RV, so very handy sitting right there.
He leaned back against his car, bracing his hands behind him. “There’s that feisty woman I met at the bar. You’re like an ice-cream shop—thirty flavors of salty, sad, sassy, soft, and sweet. I want to taste them all, but I can forgo the spicy chocolate because I know I’ll enjoy the others just as much.”
Even though that last sentence swirled in her stomach, she forced herself to stay both logical and cynical. “You’re comparing me to ice cream?”
“No, I’m…I guess I am. What I mean is—” He rubbed the back of his neck as he shook his head. “I’ll be honest; I would love to get you into my bed. But I know you’re not in the right place, and I respect that. Even more than having mind-blowing sex with you, I want to know why you’re lost. Why it’s not a good time for fun, because I can see how much you need it. I’ve replayed that moment a hundred times, when you gave me that incredible smile and said you were open to possibilities. I’ve also replayed when you admitted how lost you felt. And when you ran off. Like I said, you’re compelling. I’ve never met a woman who had that effect on me. I need to figure out why.”
She wanted so badly to believe him, with his gorgeous mouth spouting gorgeous words. If he was telling the truth, that made him all the more alluring. “You are either unlike any man I’ve ever met or you’re a master seducer unused to a challenge.”
Instead of bristling at her accusation, he gave her a tender look. “Who hurt you, Grace?”
She shored her shoulders against his sympathy, and that expression that made her want to step into his arms and spill all. “No one hurt me. I’ve just learned to be cynical, which is necessary in a world full of liars, cheaters, and murderers. So, are you going to show me how to change oil, or what?”
“I bet you’re a damned good attorney.” He pushed away from his car and waved for her to follow to the vintage Camaro in the first bay. “Since the T-bird is already up to date, we’ll take care of one of Raleigh’s customers’ cars. I’m assuming this is about you wanting more control over your car?”
“Um, yeah. I want to see if I enjoy doing my own maintenance.” I want to experience something new. A new challenge to build my confidence. None of which she’d admit to this man, who could, in his way, fulfill both requirements. At least temporarily.
“I did a lot of my own car work starting out,” he said. “Bought a POS car and built it into not only my ride but my first drift car. And even though I have a pit crew, I still like tinkering. There’s something satisfying about fixing a problem. But, like Raleigh said, the newer the car the more complex and crowded the engine compartment is. What kind of car are you looking for?”
She took out her phone and pulled up her “New Car” list. “I want a used car, but not more than two years old. Good gas mileage, four-door, American-made, and red.”
“Some of those criteria are pretty limiting.”
“I have a plan. Standards. It’s how I roll.”
“You’re a very goal-oriented person, aren’t you?”
“That’s how I got where I am.” Which, at the moment, wasn’t such a great place. “The thing is, I don’t know how to be any other way.”
“I could come car shopping with you as an adviser. I do know cars, after all. And sometimes having a guy along keeps the salesmen from being too pushy.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I can handle pushy salespeople.” She leaned closer to him. “And pushy other people.”
He didn’t back up. “I bet you can. I’m just saying, if you have someone with you maybe you wouldn’t have to deal with them at all.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Are you insinuating that I’m pushy?”
She quickly stepped away, because being that close was too tempting. “Maybe just a little too…helpful.” Too sexy. Too sweet. Too everything! “Speaking of your helpfulness, we should probably get back to the oil change.”
His chuckle washed over her as he shook his head. “Here’s what you’re going to need.” He gestured toward an assortment of things next to the car. “You’ll have to put the car up on a jack. First, make sure the car is in park. Then put two chalk blocks behind the rear wheels. You can use bricks or rocks, but I recommend buying a set of actual blocks.” He paused and appeared to be waiting.
“Oh, you want me to do it?” she asked.
“Sure. The learning’s in the doing, right?”
Well, shoot. She didn’t want to do this in front of him. Talk about pressure. Well, she worked best under pressure, so fine. She leaned into the open window of the car to make sure it was in park. Then she took the blocks and wedged them behind the rear wheels.
“You ever changed a tire?” he asked. “You’re going to jack the car up just like you would then.”
“I have, but it’s been a while.” She wheeled the heavy-duty jack around to the side and tried to remember the best spot to place it under. She bent down and positioned it. Suddenly, she became aware of him close behind her.
“Let me push it a couple of inches farther in,” he said. “We want it in just the right position.”
She turned to see if he’d intended to make it sound carnal, but he appeared to be all business.
“Now you can start pumping the handle,” he said. “Firm grip, steady motion.”
She wanted to laugh, but then she’d have to explain why. Not going there. She pushed the handle up and down, as he instructed.
“Just a few times,” he said. “You don’t want to go too high. Leave just enough room to maneuver.”
Lordy, her libido was making his words into all manner of sexiness. When she brought logic to the forefront again, she realized what he was talking about. She eyed the space beneath the car. “I’m going under there?”
“If you’re going to change oil, you are.”
She sighed. “I guess I am.” She needed to experience it, she supposed. Down and dirty.
“Now, you need to put jack stands beneath the car. That makes it more stable, which is a good thing when you’re lying under a four-thousand-pound hunk of metal.” He crouched down and pulled one of the red stands closer. “Go ahead and place it under a stable point on the chassis.”
“Stable, got it.”
He showed her how to lock the stand, then let her do the same thing on the other side. “Pop the hood, and we’ll go on to the next step.”
She liked how he wasn’t babying her, standing back while she popped the hood. “All right, what’s next?”
His gaze drifted to her mouth for a split second, betraying what he wanted to do next. It gave her a shiver, as she remembered the last time he’d stolen a kiss. His soft lips over hers. The brush of his beard against her chin. The taste of his tongue on hers. It had taken everything in her to step back and remain at a safe distance. He’d claimed it was a test, but he never said whether it was as amazing as he remembered.
Unfortunately, that amazingness had killed her hope that she’d just imagined how lost she’d gotten in his kiss.
“Make sure the car is stable by giving it a gentle shake.” He gripped the side and pulled it back and forth. “It should feel like this.” She did the same, trying to imprint the feel of it in her mind. He pointed to the mass of engine. “See if you can find the oil cap and remove it. That way, we won’t have a vacuum.”
She caught sight of his tattoo, the one he’d nearly fooled her into thinking was her name. She didn’t know what to expect with him. After finding the oil cap, she loosened it and set it aside.
“All right, you’re ready to slide
under,” he said.
Again, that naughty part of her brain—maybe the sexualthalamus, she thought with an internal laugh—slithered into the gutter, adding the word me to his statement. Making matters worse, when she sat down on the asphalt he came down with her. He reached for a pair of gloves and handed them to her. “Put these on in case the plug is hot.”
“You’re not giving me these to keep my hands clean, are you?”
He pressed them into her hands, his fingers wrapped over hers. “Heavens, no. I want to see you get dirty, Grace.”
Okay, now she knew he was playing with her a little, the way his voice went all low and thick and his eyes pinned her. And damn, she liked it, so she forced herself to give him a pious look. “This is not a porn movie, Mr. Tanner.”
“You sound just like a lawyer, Madam Attorney. He didn’t look the least bit chastised. In fact, he smiled wider. “I bet you could make a legal brief sound sexy.”
Her sexualthalamus searched for terms that could be construed as double entendres. “I order you to cease and desist at once,” she told both him and that fictive part of her brain. “You are assuming facts not in evidence.”
“My observation is withdrawn.” But he did not withdraw his hands or his attention on her. “Give me some legal terms. Like when someone asks a French person to recite their grocery list, and it sounds sexy.”
“Just another piece of the preponderance of evidence that you are, indeed, a master charmer.”
“You are not giving me due process. I enter a rebuttal.”
She grinned. “You’re requesting a rehearing?”
“Affirmative.”
“How do you know these terms off the top of your head, anyway?”
“I used to watch Law and Order. So come on, Madam Attorney. Gimme some legal terms.”
“Res judicata. De facto. De jure. De novo.” She tried to focus on anything but the lazy circles he traced on her sensitive skin.
“See, that’s what I’m talking about.” He rubbed his thumb over her palm. “That sounded so damned sexy.”
“Jurisprudence. Mandamus. Sub judice. Sui juris. Satisfying…I mean, satisfaction.” Focus! Wait a minute. She could use words that made a point. “Suppress. Unjust enrichment. Statute of limitations—”
He released her with a wry smile. “I get it.” And he probably also got her slip, too.
Well, the man wasn’t stupid or blind. He had to see the effect he was having on her.
She donned the gloves, reminding him that they were not here to flirt.
He resumed his instructional tone. “Look for the oil pan, which should be on this side of the car. Don’t confuse it with the transmission fluid. You’ll need this.” He handed her a wrench.
She tried to hold it as though she’d done this a hundred times, when maybe it had been a dozen. Years ago. Then she shook it at him. “And I will use this as a weapon in case you get fresh.”
He arched his eyebrow playfully. “Or you can beat me into submission….”
She arched hers back. “Are you into that sort of thing, Mr. Tanner?”
He leaned closer, as though he were telling her a secret. “I can be into anything you want, Madam Attorney.”
She shivered at the words—the promise—and his warm breath caressing her jaw. Her quip had backfired. She had to concede, though only with a smile that managed to slip out as she moved back.
He laughed. “I like it when you’re sassy. All right, grab the pan and slide on under.”
He slid under right alongside her. “Can you identify the oil pan?”
“That?” When he shook his head, she pointed to another pan-looking thing. “That?”
“Yes. The plug is there. Snug the wrench over it and loosen it, but don’t open it completely. Finish loosening it by hand.” He pushed the drain pan a couple of inches closer to her. “Be ready for the oil to start coming out.”
Even with his warning, she wasn’t ready for the stream of black oil as it splashed on her gloved fingers and into the pan. “Eww! Is this why you had me wear gloves?”
“No, but keeping your hands clean is a bonus. We can slide out and wait for it to drain if you want.”
She watched the black stream flow into the pan. “It’s actually kind of soothing, watching it. Like a black waterfall. Is that weird?”
“You know, when I saw your hair in the sunlight the first time it reminded me of a dark-chocolate-fondue fountain I saw at a banquet. I was kind of mesmerized by it, too, how silky-smooth the chocolate was, how sticking a strawberry into it changed the flow. Your hair was like that, and I wondered how it would feel to run my fingers through it. Bet you never heard a pickup line like that about your hair, eh?”
“Can’t say that I have.” She stifled a smile. “But I know what you mean about fountains being mesmerizing. Something about the flow.” She focused on the oil again; otherwise, she’d fall under Tanner’s spell.
“Is it weird that I find it soothing watching you watching the oil drain out?”
“Yes. Definitely weird.” She soaked in the feel of being beneath a car. The smells of rubber and lube, maybe, along with the oil. Did this excite her? Would it fulfill her in some way to take care of her own car? Meh.
“You look like a woman deeply contemplating much more than oil,” he said. “Or learning how to maintain her own car, for that matter.”
She felt emotion tugging at her, which seemed a ridiculous thing when she was lying under a car. She continued to stare ahead and to pull herself together. “I liked it better when you were flirting rather than digging into my psyche.”
“I enjoy flirting with you, but I told you—I want to know why you’re lost. Maybe I can help you get found again.”
His words sent a new wave of emotion over her. “You, Artemis Tanner, will lead me to some wondrous mountain ledge where we watch sunsets and sunrises, and where I will have to meander the desert for weeks to find my way back once you leave.”
He contemplated her for several moments. “I’m not sure I have a response for that,” he said at last.
“Do you mean I’ve rendered the man who always has just the right thing to say speechless?” She tempered the question with a smile. She wasn’t trying to be mean, only to preserve herself.
“Yes, I believe you have. Was that your intent?”
“No. My intent is to not fall under your spell.”
“I’m not trying to weave a spell, Grace, honest. Or to ply you with pickup lines, or to lure you into bed. I just want—”
“To dig into my psyche and help me sort through the shittiest time in my life?”
His mouth quirked. “Yeah.”
“You’re only twenty-six.” Not terribly young, and yet she felt as though she’d gone through so much more of life. “Have you ever had your heart broken?”
“Romantically, no. I’ve never given my heart to a woman.”
She liked that idea, even though she shouldn’t. “So who hurt you, then?”
“My mama and my sister.”
His openness made her feel guilty for how closed she’d been. However, she had no right to probe into his psyche and his past, because she sure as hell wasn’t splaying herself open to him. “I suppose when a man is hurt by the most important women in his life, especially at a young age, he figures all women can’t be trusted.”
“True. And when a girl loses her dad she can’t trust that men will stick around.”
“Also true.” Especially when the first man you think you’re in love with proves it. “The oil’s all drained.”
He shifted his gaze from her to the oil pan. “Go ahead and replace the plug. That’s an important one.”
She imagined pouring in the oil above and it draining right out below. “I get you.”
He paused. “Do you?”
Her tummy tumbled in a funny little twist. What did she say to that? No man had ever thrown her like this. “Okay, what’s next?”
Yes, I am a coward. Not totally, of course,
because she was here with him, after all.
He walked her through the rest of the steps, all the way to closing the hood. Which she did with a bit of relief.
“Well, what did you think?” he asked, handing her a red rag after she’d ditched the gloves. “Want to learn more?”
She wiped the glove residue off her hands. “I like the feeling of accomplishment, but it’s not what I’m looking for.”
“What are you looking for?”
Crap, had she implied that? Yep, she had. “I mean, I’m not feeling it.”
He studied her in a way that made her feel very naked. Finally, he folded his arms over his chest. “Grace, have you talked to anyone about being lost—”
“Shh!” She looked around to make sure there was no one within earshot. “I don’t need to talk to anyone.”
“Seems like you’re friends with the folks here. Pax, in fact, ordered me not to break your heart. Gemma and Mia, they thought you needed to cut loose. And Raleigh acts like a brother, too. Why not talk to them?”
“I like them, I do. And if I could trust anyone it would be them. But I’ve worked really hard on having a good reputation. I need them to see me as capable, smart, and professional. And this isn’t a life-and-death situation. I just need to sort it out on my own.”
“I get that. Been doing that my whole life. But maybe if I’d had someone to bounce ideas off, someone unbiased, say, and objective, I might have made different choices. Or, at the least, not felt so alone.”
Alone. The word reverberated through her entire being. “Is this why your nickname is the Fixer? Because you like fixing people?”
“Doing some research, hmm?”
Damn big mouth! She felt the blood rush to her cheeks. But she summoned her attorney face. “Fair is fair.”
“I suppose it is. And, yes, I do have a rep for fixing things, though it’s cars or situations. Back in the early drifting days, before I went pro, I helped the other guys out. But that’s not atypical. In fact, it’s why I like the drifting community. For some reason, people started calling me the Fixer, and it stuck. I’ve never wanted to fix a person’s life before. And, to be clear, I’m not trying to fix your life. I’d like to help you through this rough patch, though. Tell me what’s thrown you for a loop.”
Falling Free ( Falling Fast #3) Page 6
