Huge Working Hero (Hard Working Hero 3)

I feel like I'm in a movie. The world around me becomes a slow-motion picture. The birds overhead are barely flying, and yet they're still crossing the sky. The clouds are rolling, but they seem to melt into a roll instead of tumble. The sun's arms are stretching down, bold and bright, and landing on a man I've never seen before.

He's leaning over, looking under the hood of my dad's drag car. The muscles of his upper arms twist and thicken, sending a ripple effect down his back. He's sweating, and streaks of grease paint his forearms like stained scars.

His head is down, but that quickly changes as he senses my presence. With utter slowness, he lifts his head and his eyes land right on me. They don't sway over the car or touch the house, they find me like a mosquito finds flesh in the dark. His eyes strike. Big and bright, the brightest green I've ever seen. Gold flakes swim in the green pools as amber sparkles swirl like a faraway galaxy.

I'm frozen.

The guy smirks. Fine lines beside his mouth crease, and one eye lid lowers to a squint. His lips are so full. I've always thought that men had thin, pencil straight lips. But not this man. His lips spread wider, exposing stark white teeth in contrast to his deep tanned skin.

He's wearing a hint of age. Not old, but not young either. Maybe he's closer to thirty than twenty. I don't know for sure. It could just be his eyes. They scream sexy, but there's a glimmer of years lived inside them.

The mop of brown hair on his head falls in his eyes as a breeze swirls between us. He uses his thick fingers to swipe them away, but his eyes never leave mine. There's an air about him. Bad boy, wild, man of the earth kind of vibe.

And I like it. I like the wild flare in his gaze and the gritty look of his hands.

Maybe it's because beneath that layer of car grime there's a sexy, handsome man. Or maybe it's because he's everything my parents have warned me about.

My mother’s always said to play it safe. To find a man who has his shit together. Who knows how to tie a tie, and can waltz if the music is right. My father says a real man makes his own fortune. He thinks a man who's smart and resourceful is the way to go. He wants his only daughter to find a guy who will only go up in life.

And this man looks like the exact opposite of what they want for me. But what do I know? I don't know anything about him. For all I know he's grown up as a rich boy who fancies cars like my father. Being rich doesn't mean you can't also get dirty.

I love to garden, and the dirt never bothers me one bit.

“Kelsie!” My father's voice booms in my ears. He sounds distant, and at the same time, it sounds like he's inside my head.

“Hm?” I ask. I'm still dazed by the mountain of a man in the center of the driveway.

“What are you doing? Why are you out here half naked and barefoot?”

“What?” My eyes draw down my own body.

I didn't even think about what I was wearing when I took off outside. My pajamas are a pair of short shorts that are so high on my legs the air tickles my ass cheeks. A thin baby-tee is all I have for a shirt. My nipples are hard as stone, and the material is so thin you can see the dark shadow of my areolas.

I throw my arms over my chest, crossing them under each other and hugging myself tight. Embarrassment coats me like a thick layer of wax, leaving me as still as a statue.

My father storms up to me, vigorously wiping his hand on a dirty yellow rag. His brows are sharp, slanted inward. There is a thick ridge running through the center of his forehead and the vein just above his temple is throbbing like a swelling balloon.

“I asked you a question,” he snaps. “Why are you out here dressed like that?” His voice rakes my spine, making me feel small. “You're practically naked, for Christ’s sake!”

I squeeze my arms even tighter, crossing my legs and twisting my bare toe in the dirt. “I'm looking for Garlits. He isn't in the house anywhere. Is he out here with you?” I ask.

My father grumbles something. I'm pretty sure it was a cuss word followed by 'so help me god.' I'm not entirely sure.

“Dad, please. I'm getting worried. Is he out here anywhere? It never takes this long to find him. What if he's been attacked?”

“Forget the dog and get inside,” he barks through clenched teeth. His arm snaps out toward the house, and the vein in his temple looks like it's about to pop.