Mechanic

She looks like a scared rabbit, ready to bolt at any moment. I need to pull it back before I make her run. If she knew the things I was thinking about moments ago, she’d be long gone. I’m guessing the men she’s been with were smooth and soft with her, something I’m not sure I could be, but hell, if she asked I would sure as hell try just to have her beneath me for a few minutes. But I don’t think a few minutes would ever be enough with someone like her. I bet a taste would drive a man to his knees. She’s not used to talking to a dirty grease monkey like me. No, she’s more into suits and polos down at the country club. The thought of someone else touching her has a red haze hitting my eyes. They wouldn’t know what to do with her. I may not even know what to do with her, but I would die trying to give it to her. A woman like her should be worshiped and fucked regularly.

“It’s probably just your fan belt,” I finally say, trying to pull my thoughts from wanting to fuck her.

“Is that an easy fix? I have a ton of stuff I need to get done.”

I bite my tongue to keep from saying something rude. I’m sure duchess here has a big day of shopping ahead of her and doesn’t want to spend it in a dirty garage with the likes of me. I reach out wanting her keys, and she jumps back. She looks down at my hands, and I realize they aren’t the prettiest. They’re still smeared with grease from the last car I had my hands inside of. They show signs of manual labor, something she’s probably never done before. I bet her skin is soft and silky all over. Her hands wrapped around my cock would feel a whole lot better than my own, which is all my dick has been getting for a very long time. Maybe that’s why my dick is begging for something it shouldn’t be wanting right now.

“Keys,” I snap, making her jump again. I’m irritated that my hand repulsed her, and I can’t help the tone of my voice. I look up, and I can see the pulse in her neck start to pick up as she looks back at the door. I see what she’s thinking, but I put a stop to it.

“Only shop in town, duchess. Give me the keys.”

Her gray eyes go hard at the nickname, and she gives me an icy glare. Fuck. Even that turns me on. I’m starting to think there isn’t anything she could do to turn me off. How can someone piss you off and turn you on at the same time? I’m not sure how she’s doing it, but she is.

She digs in her purse, pulling her keys out and tossing them to me. I catch them in the air, wishing she would have just handed them to me. I could have stolen a touch and found out if she’s as soft as she looks.

“Come back in hour and she’ll be good to go.” I point to the clipboard on the counter. “Fill out your name and number so I can call you if I’m done before you’re back.”

She quickly scribbles down her number before turning and leaving the shop, giving me a nice view of her ass as she stomps out. I pull out my phone and look down to see her number and name and laugh when I see she identified herself as ‘Duchess.’ I program it into my phone before ripping her number off the sheet and putting it in my pocket. I hate the idea that it’s just sitting there for anyone to access it.

I quickly pull her Carrera GT into the shop and change her fan belt in record time. I’d like to say it’s because I’m just trying to get shit done, but I’d be lying to myself. I just want her back in here. The whole time I’m working on her car, I’m irritated at the idea that she’ll never give me the time of day. I’m a fucking joke to someone like her. Why even try?

Pulling out my phone to give her a call, I look up and see she’s already standing in the front office again. This time I see her laughing at something Butch just said, more at ease with him then she was with me.

I’m going to fucking kill him. He may be a little rough around the edges, but his blond hair and blue eyes always seem to pull the women in. He cleans up nicer than I seem to be able to. I look over to see Joey trying to hold back a laugh as she looks between me and what’s happening in the front office.

“Pull the fucking car out and drop the keys on the front counter when you’re done,” I snap at her, only making her laugh more. After a second she lifts her hand, extending her middle finger at me.

I stomp across the garage and throw the door open a little harder than I mean to. I’m shocked the glass window in the door doesn’t shatter when the door hits the wall. The sound makes Duchess jump again. Shit. All I seem to do is make her jump.

Butch just leans against the counter like he doesn’t have a care in the world, and irritation boils inside me. I look over at him and put an end to the conversation he’s having. “Back to work. I don’t pay you to flirt with customers.”

Duchess blushes at my words, looking embarrassed. If I had my way with her, that blush would cover every part of her skin. Yeah, like you’ll get that chance, a voice in the back of my mind says. Girls like her who ooze class won’t give me the time of day. No matter how hard I work, or what I have in my bank, they just think they’re better than me. Types like her want men in stiff suits and five-star dinners. I met a couple girls like her growing up, and I’ve learned to stay clear, and I always have, but something about her is pulling me in.

Butch winks at her on his way out, and it makes me grind my teeth as he strolls out the open door. If I blackened both of his eyes, he wouldn’t be able to wink again for a while, I think to myself. Once he’s through the door, I reach over and slam it shut. I try to get myself together and push back all these foreign emotions. I take a breath and try to smooth things over.