He shrugged. “Gonna have to call around for the pan and that tire. But wanted to make sure it didn’t need anythin’ else before I did that.”
Made perfect sense.
“I’ll get an estimate together for you. It’ll just take me a bit.”
“I don’t need an estimate. Just order whatever you need to get her up and running.”
His head tilted as he studied her and she could see his wheels turning. She was sure most people wanted to know the financial hit they were about to take so they weren’t shocked when they got the final bill. The truth was, she had no choice but to get Agnes fixed. The Scout was all Fallon owned right now besides some personal items in her saddlebags and luggage pack.
“Yeah, as she sits, she’s about useless. We charge a fair price, don’t worry.”
“I’m not worried,” she murmured. “I just need to know when she’ll be fixed.”
He nodded and set the oil pan down in what looked like some sort of oil drain funnel on wheels beneath the lift. “Gonna call around, see what I can find and then we can go from there.”
Fallon nodded and turned to head back to the office.
“Hey,” he called out softly, making her pause.
She glanced over her shoulder at him still standing under Agnes. He should be a model, he was that damn cute.
Men shouldn’t be cute, they should be handsome and suave or, on the other end of the spectrum, ruggedly handsome, so why did he make things flutter inside her?
Maybe it had just been that long for her, any man looked good.
She glanced at Dutch who stood in the next bay, staring at her in a very uncomfortable way.
Almost any man.
The garage owner certainly didn’t hide his obvious interest, nor was he embarrassed about being caught ogling her. His smile widened as he stroked his beard.
Whip grabbed her upper arm and steered her away from Agnes and Dutch. “Want coffee?”
“Uh… Sure.” She could use some caffeine if she was going to end up stuck at this garage for a while longer. She followed him past the office. “Do you think you’ll be able to find the tire and oil pan today?”
“Find it? Maybe. Get them delivered? Doubt it. If I can get them locally, maybe by the weekend. If not…”
He stepped into a narrow room behind the office. A counter ran the length of the room and on it was a large coffeemaker with all the fixings needed to make coffee.
“Donut?”
“No.”
He frowned, grabbed a donut, asked, “You don’t do donuts?” and clamped it between his teeth.
She blinked while she stared at his mouth, then forced out, “I do donuts, but only occasionally,” once she shook herself mentally.
With the donut still between his teeth, he grabbed a disposable coffee cup, filled it and offered it to her. As soon as she took it, he took a bite, chewed and swallowed it down. “Fix it how you like.”
She dragged her gaze from his throat after he swallowed, watched him take another bite of the glazed donut and grab a real mug hanging from a rack above the coffeemaker. A worn Harley Davidson emblem decorated it. He checked the inside, probably to make sure it was clean, and poured himself a mugful.
Then he turned and leaned back against the counter, chewing another mouthful of donut.
What the hell was wrong with her?
She made herself move next to him to add some powered creamer since that was the only creamer she spotted and a packet of sweetener to her coffee. After stirring it with one of those tiny straws, she tucked the stirrer between her lips.
When she lifted her gaze, he was staring at her mouth. Their eyes locked as she sucked the stirrer clean and slid it from between her lips.
What was going on?
The donut was forgotten in his fingers and his coffee cooling on the counter, while she was gripping her coffee cup so hard it began to buckle.
She loosened her grip and, after taking a deep breath, she leaned closer and reached up, using her thumb to wipe the dot of glaze clinging to the corner of his mouth.
She stared at her thumb with the glaze on it for far too long, fighting the urge to tuck it into her mouth.
Don’t do it, Fallon. Don’t. You. Do. It.
It took every effort she had to force her gaze up but avoided looking at him directly in the eye this time. “Sorry. I…”
Heat licked at her cheeks even though she never blushed.
Never.
What in the Twilight Zone hell was going on?
She never touched anyone without their permission. Just like she never wanted a stranger to just reach out and touch her.
Personal space and boundaries had always been important. Whether sexual, personal or business.
She glanced down helplessly at the glaze on her thumb again and a napkin suddenly appeared in her line of sight. That was exactly what was needed to snap her out of this unexplainable craziness.