“Paperwork?” she questioned with a lift of her eyebrow.
“All done and paid. I keep all those files separate in the bottom left-hand drawer.”
“Do you keep pictures of the restorations?”
“Actually, yes—not a ton but always before and after. There’s a camera in the drawer I use with a memory card. Each file has my concept sketches as well.”
“Oh, I could use those for the website.”
“So, you really know how to do all that, ah, stuff?”
She waved her hands. “Easy peasy.”
Her use of odd sayings amused me.
“Well, knock yourself out.”
“What’s the most iconic motorcycle you’ve ever worked on?”
I stiffened, then forced myself to relax. She had no idea what she was asking me. I kept my voice neutral.
“An 1952 Indian Chief.”
“Wow. My father loved Indian motorcycles.”
I took a long drink of the cold soda. “They’re classic.”
“Did you ever ride one?”
I almost spat out my answer. “Yes.”
She looked around the shop, changing the subject, which cooled my ire. “Are there any photos from when your dad ran the shop?”
“I think there are some in the storage room.” I scratched my beard, thinking. “Or in the boxes in the barn.”
“Can I look?”
“Like I said—knock yourself out.”
“Holy moly, that’s awesome. Retro is in.” She pushed off the bumper and patted the hood. “I don’t have a work order listing in the computer for this one.”
“There’s no charge.”
“Maxx, you can’t be doing favors for your friends.”
“It’s not for a friend. It’s for you.”
She opened her mouth to argue, then realized what I had said. Her eyes widened. “Me?”
“That was my mom’s car. My dad bought it new. She didn’t drive much, and he kept it in pristine condition. When she had her first stroke, they put it in the barn. I’ve kept it maintained, even planned on selling it at some point, but never did.”
“You’re going to let me drive your mom’s car?”
I wagged my finger. “I expect you to take care of it. It has a lot of sentimental value.” Bending forward, I stroked the still immaculate paint job. “And it’s a great little car. It’ll do the job.”
She blinked at me but didn’t say anything.
“The truck is too big for you, Red. This is compact—like you. It makes sense.” I growled playfully at her. “And I won’t waste my time driving you around.”
As soon as the sentence was out of my mouth, I knew I’d made a mistake. I barely had time to brace myself before she flung her arms around my neck and kissed me. And as soon as her mouth touched mine, I gave in. I wrapped my arm around her waist, lifting her, palming her ass as we kissed. I slanted my mouth, kissing her harder, deeper, and not caring about my plan. She obviously didn’t care about my tone, and I didn’t care how bad an idea this was. Right now, it was pretty damn great.
She plunged one hand into my hair, tugging and stroking. The other, she used to clasp the back of my neck, holding me tight. I wrapped my free hand around her ponytail and yanked at it, pulling her head back and kissing my way across her throat.
“So sexy in my shirt, aren’t you, Red? Acting all sweet and demure. You got anything on under those tight little yoga pants?”
She rubbed against me, gasping as I licked my way up to her ear. “No.”
“Jesus,” I bit out, eyeing the Camry and wondering if there was enough room to fuck her in the back seat.
“Hey, Maxx! Yo, where you at?” a voice yelled.
We broke apart, staring at each other. I set her down, and before I could say anything, she turned and hurried to the office. I heard the door slam just as my one o’clock appointment showed up.
“There you are,” my next customer, Tim, said, walking through the garage door.
“Hey,” I responded, hoping I sounded fairly normal. I walked around the Camry so the car separated us, praying my erection would diminish and my breathing would slow. All I could think of was if he had been five minutes later, he would have walked into a whole different scenario. One he wouldn’t forget.
I glanced past his shoulder and saw Charly headed down the hall, no doubt to go work in the storeroom. It was good planning on her part. If I kept looking at her, I was going to rid of Tim, shut the garage door, and have her.
Out of sight, out of mind—right?
I ignored the chortles in my head.
I made it through the afternoon, staying busy with customers. I even followed protocol, typed up the invoices, collected payment, and left the information on the desk for Charly. I didn’t want to have to listen to another one of her “I told you” lectures.
I pulled down the overhead door just before four, not wanting to be around in case anyone showed up with an emergency. I was tense, my body still taut from earlier.