Miss Mechanic

I pulled into the same spot I did for my interview and parked. Everything inside shut off with one turn of the key, and I stayed still for a moment.

I had to get myself together.

Now.

I grabbed my stuff from the passenger side and got out before I turned into a huge chicken. Locking my car, I stuffed the keys into my purse and walked toward the garage.

There were no lights. I tried the front door, but it was locked, and I pursed my lips.

“Jamie?”

I jumped, clutching my purse close to me.

A low chuckle sounded. “Round the back.”

Slowly, I edged back toward my car and where the back door to the garage was. Why didn’t I think of that? That was always how we’d entered. I guessed my uncertainty had gotten the better of me.

I’d forgotten that entrance ever existed.

The silhouette of Dex filled the doorway until my eyes adjusted to the dim light of the fall morning and I could make him out.

Boy, I was not looking forward to daylight savings next week.

“Dex?”

“Did I scare you?”

“Like a lamb scares a lion,” I replied, walking toward him.

He didn’t step out of the door—he only flattened himself against the frame, meaning I had to turn sideways to slide past him. Barely a breath of air would have been able to go between us, but at least we didn’t touch.

“You’re early,” he noted.

“Would you prefer if I were late?” I shot over my shoulder, walking into the staff area and dumping my purse on the sofa.

“I’d prefer you be on time.”

Now, he was taking the piss.

“I’ll take that into consideration. If I’m ever late, know that it was because I was doing my best to get here exactly on time.”

“We’re beginning this trial on good terms, I see.”

I turned, ready to shoot him down, but all I saw was a wolfish grin that glinted in his eyes. “It’s first thing on a Monday. You’ll learn that I don’t do sarcasm this early.”

“Ironic, considering the snark you just sent my way.”

“I’m sorry—I meant to say I don’t take sarcasm from other people on a Monday unless they have a murder wish.”

Dex burst into laughter and locked the door I’d just walked through. “Just on a Monday? I admit to having limited experience in your presence, but I’d consider you a potential murderer any day of the week.”

I levelled my gaze on him. “And you’re in a building full of potential murder weapons.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

“They’re weak.”

“I’m strong and scrappy—I could fight you off, darlin’.”

“I’m a mean hand at Chinese throwing stars,” I warned him. Still wasn’t sure how I’d acquired that skill…

He grinned. “Good thing I don’t have any of those stashed in here.”

“Wrenches spin the same way.”

He faltered. “Point well made. From now on, though, watch your mouth. I’m your boss.”

“Did I scare you?”

“Into thinking I hired a psychopath? Absolutely. Of a woman who wears lipstick to fix cars? Not really.” He tossed a clipboard my way. It landed with a clatter at my feet. “I’m starting you off easy.”

I bent to retrieve it. “So kind of you.”

“Mrs. Hawkins’ Ford needs an oil change, spark plugs replaced, and her two front tires changed.” He hesitated. “That’s the dark blue, three-door disaster in the back corner.”

“No, stop that,” I snapped back. “I thought it was that shiny as hell, black Dodge Ram to my left.”

Dex blinked his blue eyes at me for a moment. “Do you have a switch for that attitude? Does coffee turn it off?”

“No, but it gives me the ability to pretend to like people.”

He moved back toward the staffroom. “Cream and sugar?”

“Yes, and one, please.” I flashed him an almost-sincere smile.

“Damn, that was almost a real one.” His laughter followed him into the room—and I did, too.

I opened up my purse and pulled out the overalls I’d scrunched into a tiny ball. Creases made no difference when they’d be hidden by oil in mere minutes of being under a hood.

I kicked off my combat boots, sat down, and shoved my legs in the leg-holes.

Dex glanced over his shoulder, his eyes lingering on my shoes in front of me.

When he didn’t say anything, I did. “Yes?”

He peered back at me for a moment before returning his attention to the coffee machine. “I half-expected you to show up in those heels you wore to the interview.”

I bit my tongue, holding back a retort for half a second. “If you’d like me to, it’s not a problem. I’ve changed a tire in higher heels before.”

“Now, that’s something I’d like to see.”

“It’s something I’d like to forget,” I admitted, standing and zipping the overalls to beneath my boobs. Starting to roll the sleeves, I continued, “My mom was driving me to dinner with a few friends and we saw old Mr. Hooter on the side of the road with a flat. His cell wasn’t working. Neither were ours because we were out of range. I wasn’t exactly dressed for tire-changing, and we’ll just say he enjoyed the view.”