A Sticky Situation (Awkward Love 7)

Oh God.

“Have you oiled this thing lately?” he asks, inspecting the stick as he pulls it out from the oil tank.

“No,” I admit hoarsely.

He chuckles. “You need to check the oil and water levels regularly. Especially on a car this old. This old girl you could lather in oil and she’d still want more.”

Can I lather you in oil instead?

He chuckles to himself. “I wouldn’t say no.”

My head shoots up. His sparkling eyes meet mine and my heart literally stops beating.

I just said that out loud.

Fuck.

He massages his jaw, the amusement in his smirk both incredibly sexy, and irritating the hell out of me. I avoid eye contact while I try and think of a way to explain my comment.

“What I meant was…”

My voice trails off as I admit defeat. Nothing is getting me out of this one, so I might as well run with it

“It’s your fault for taking your damn shirt off,” I insist.

“Hey, this wasn’t for your benefit,” he retorts, then he smooths his hand over his muscles. I glare at him, because the streaks of grease make him even sexier.

“Will you quit looking at me like I’m trying to Don Juan you?” he laughs. “The stick needs to be clean, so I cleaned it. Put it this way; it was either my shirt or yours. For some reason, I didn’t think you’d appreciate me asking you to slip that pretty thing off.”

“If you had, I’d have informed you that I have some rags in the trunk,” I fire back.

“For checking the oil on the car you’ve never checked the oil on?” he taunts, his lips twitching.

Asshole.

“Anyway, it looks like you’ve blown a gasket.”

He steps back so that he’s standing next to me. The subtle scent of his sweat, mixed with that of the grease is doing things to my body that I don’t want to acknowledge, so I shift back a few steps.

“I can fix it,” he continues, “but not out here. I’ll call my friend, Max and get him to tow it to my brother’s garage, if that’s good with you.”

“How long will it take to fix?” I ask, frowning at him.

He shrugs. “A couple of hours.”

“What about your meeting?” I ask.

He shrugs. “I’ll reschedule.”

I nod and wander around the car while he calls his friend, kicking myself for not taking better care of my shit box. Lou would be laughing her ass off if she knew this was happening. I look back at Brix as he fiddles with his phone. He glances over and catches my eye, giving me a nod.

“He’s on his way.”

“I didn’t know your brother had a workshop?” I say, hoisting myself onto the bonnet.

He shrugs as he sits next to me. “Did you even know I had a brother?”

I think for a second. “No.”

“Well then. There you go.”

“Do you get along with him?” I ask.

More than anything, I’m just curious if other people’s relationships with their siblings is as fucked up as mine.

“Depends how you define getting along.” He pauses for a moment. “No, on second thought, it doesn’t matter. The answer would still be no.”

“What about you? Siblings?” he asks.

“A sister. We don’t get on all that well either,” I admit. “But that’s mainly because she’s a bitch.”

“Good reason,” he agrees with a chuckle. “Sucks when your family is shit, huh? What about your parents? Do you have a good relationship with them?”

“Dad isn’t in the picture. He died when I was young. I barely remember him. And Mom.” I sigh and massage my temples. Brix laughs.

“After that sigh, I don’t really need an answer.”

“You’re going to get one, though,” I grumble. “After the stunt you pulled the other day.”

“Must have slipped my mind.”

“Slipped your mind?” I tease, not letting him get away with it that easily. “You all but told my mother you were my boyfriend.”

He winces at me. “I did? Shit, sorry. I can be a bit of an asshole sometimes.”

“No argument from me there,” I say, my tone extra sweet.

“Hey, be nice,” he says, grinning at me.

“I'm always nice,” I fire back.

“Do you mean nice to look at?” he asks. “Because I do kind of enjoy looking at you.”

I narrow my eyes at him, my face hot. I’m sure he's just messing with me, but I can’t deny hearing that makes me heart beat faster. The silence grows between us, because neither of us know what to say. Well, I can’t speak for him, but sure as hell don’t know what to say.

“Well this just got awkward,” I say.

“You’re good at that, huh?” he says, smirking at me.

Ouch.

“I'm sorry. I couldn't resist,” he adds, laughing when I lean over to swat him on the arm.

Only I miss by a long shot and end up falling into his lap.

“See?” he chuckles. “Now you’re throwing yourself at me. You want to tell me again how much you’re not into me?”