Knocked up by the Mechanic - Page 5

I went to take another sip of water and noticed that I was out. Over the last few days with the garage’s climate control on the fritz, the housekeeper had come out with some water while I worked, understanding how working in the hot sun wasn’t ideal, but it was better than the stifling garage. But maybe she went home or didn’t come in today, but I’d only brought one bottle and I wasn’t going to last long in this heat.

I checked my phone to see if Brooks had left me a message about the cooling system. They were supposed to get out here and fix it this week, but they were missing multiple parts for his state of the art climate control system. Brooks treated his babies like fine art and didn’t spare a dime when it came to their upkeep. I didn’t do cooling and heating systems, but the company was taking so long, I was ready to take a crack at it myself to get the hell out of this hot sun.

The way I saw it, I had three choices, get in my car and drive to the gas station to buy myself some Gatorade and water, or go to the door and ask Harley for some, grovel like the peasant she thought I was, or finally, go take a look at the cooling system and fix it my fucking self.

As I stood on the steps of the giant manor, I felt my throat go dry as soon as I rang the bell. Watch me pass out on their fucking doorstep—now that would make a viral video for the one constantly filming my every move.

I reached up and grabbed the frame of the door. Harley opened it and I could feel the blast of cold air from inside. She smiled up at me with her big blue doe eyes. Her lashes were long and her lips plump and pink. If I didn’t know Harley, I’d think she was completely innocent. But I did know her and I knew her type, the babydoll act was a total façade. She was a princess and expected to be treated like one. But hanging around girls like Gianna Delacourt gave off a different type of message. I knew the girl well. She’d taken a turn riding all the cocks in my neighborhood. The guys riffed about her nonstop and all the nasty things she’d do with them before she flounced off and kissed her perfect, preppy boyfriend. No one could be best friends with that skank and actually be innocent. It wasn’t possible.

"Hi," she whispered. Her girly voice made me angry, like she was trying to be a seductress or else keep me a secret.

I’m fucking working here and you’re dancing in your dresses and taking inane selfies, is what I wanted to say to her.

I slapped my other hand up on the door frame, cocked my head and looked down at her.

“Enjoy the show?” I asked her. I raised one eyebrow at the prissy little girl.

She looked offended, like I was some filthy thing that she was too ashamed to talk to. It shouldn’t have irked me; I was just the hired help. The low life trash who did all the useless work they deemed beneath them. To the perfect princess and those who orbited her, I was nothing but eye candy to mock in their social media endeavors. People like me, we weren’t even human to people like her.

"I just ran out of water,” I said slowly. “And I was wondering, if I could trouble you for a drink of water?" I watched my tone, hid my malice.

"Oh, sure," she moved away from the door, opening it wide. "Come on in."

I sure as fuck wasn’t expecting the princess to let the pauper into the castle. I was wearing work shorts, white Adidas with socks and that’s it. I’d been sweating my ass off for two hours, my smell alone was probably too musky for their elite noses to handle.

I'd never been in the house before. It was way bigger than I imagined it, with a giant staircase in the middle leading up to a life sized portrait of old man Brooks. He sure thought highly of himself. I’d hung out with Stefano some in school, but even he had never invited me inside the house.

“Follow me, there’s stuff in the kitchen,” Harley said. Her voice kind of echoed in the cavernous entryway of her mansion. My double wide would have fit in the foyer, in fact, that would make a good fucking video, me hauling my trailer to camp out in front of their grand staircase. Make a goddamned campfire, too right in the middle of the marble floor.

“What’s so funny?” Harley asked me. I must have been grinning at the scenario I was imagining.

Tags: Aria Cole, Mila Crawford Romance
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