First

‘He tried to hook up with me at a party once, so I don’t think he’ll say no.’

‘Oh God, honey, really? If that’s the case, I have to veto him on principle—’

‘Vetoing is not allowed. I ask him out for drinks … That’s it? I don’t have to do anything special?’

‘No. Stop overthinking this. And please, please don’t tell me how it went. I’d prefer to imagine you tangled up with your hot tattooed man instead of someone who thinks sweater vests are a thing.’

‘He only wore them in the fall and winter. Now he wears polos with his chinos.’

‘I’m hanging up now.’

‘I love you. Wish me luck.’

‘Good luck,’ she mumbles and I end the call.

The clock warns me it’s nearing lunch. I call Dally and wait while it rings. A moment later, he picks up.

‘What?’ he growls.

‘Want lunch?’

‘Give me a half hour. This engine is seriously fucked up.’ I hear a faint metallic protest and Dally grunts.

‘What are you doing?’ I ask, curiosity piqued.

‘Hang on—’

My purse is hanging on a chair in the kitchen. I check to make sure I’ve got everything, listening absently.

He must put the phone down because all I hear is some heavy breathing, deep grunts, and a slow, metallic screech. Dally croons a quiet stream of filth as he works on the offending part. The screech stops and the timbre of Dally’s voice changes.

‘There we go, baby,’ he’s whispering. ‘See, it wasn’t so bad. I told you I’d take care of you. You can trust me, sweetheart—’

I melt onto the chair, knees weak, skin on fire. My heartbeat is throbbing between my legs. If I give in to temptation and reach down my shorts at the moment, I’m pretty sure I’ll come on accident.

He picks the phone back up. ‘You still with me, brown eyes?’

My breath is shaky. ‘Dallas Miller, can you say that again?’

His amusement seeps through the phone line. ‘Why?’

‘Because if you do, I’m pretty sure I’ll have the best orgasm of my life.’

There’s a loud bang, followed by the skitter of a phone being dropped, and Dally starts swearing again.

I listen to his litany of inventive curses until he picks up his phone. ‘Cat! What the actual fuck—’

Hmm. He sounds upset. I try to evade the lecture. ‘What do you want for lunch?’

‘Shit!’

‘Gross,’ I reply, pulling myself together and ignoring the pulse between my legs. My flip-flops are waiting by the front door and I slip them on as I grab my keys. ‘I’m not eating any form of poo for lunch, so you need to come up with something better.’

‘Cat, this has got to stop—’

‘I’m getting us subs,’ I say over his protests. ‘See you in a bit.’

By the time I show up at the garage, Dally’s waiting for me. His dark eyes are fixed on me as I approach and he doesn’t look happy. I wave to a few of his co-workers and hold out the paper bag toward him. ‘I bring a peace offering.’