Huge Working Hero (Hard Working Hero 3)

I've never been. Not that he's ever given me an invitation to join him, but even if he did, I would politely decline. I'm not a golfer. I'm a car guy. A real car guy. I like getting my hands dirty, my pants greasy, and my shirt saturated with the smell of motor oil and exhaust before I go home for the night.

I also like pussy. And my gut is telling me his daughter has a really pretty pussy under those tiny little shorts of hers.

I watch Mr. Klein as he heads inside, closing the door behind him. I lean left and right, hoping to get a small glimpse of his daughter again. Fuck, she's hot. Tight little ass, smooth lean legs, perky tits I could almost see through her shirt.

I'm salivating. Smacking my lips, I swallow. I haven't seen her since I found her dog. She's been inside all morning. Every so often I look up at the windows, hoping to see her, and wondering if she's inside looking back.

My eyes dart to the big front window, but the glare is just too bright. A mirror image of the trees across street reflects back at me. The sun sends a blinding burst of light that burns my retinas and turns the skin on my cheeks red hot.

I lower my head back under the hood. And still, despite the blinding ray of light, despite the fiery heat on my skin, Kelsie Klein is a crystal-clear image in my mind.

Her dirty blond hair, amber brown eyes, and luscious lips are all I can think about. It's making it hard for me to focus on anything else.

I'm on autopilot as I push the stands under the front wheels of the Fairlane and slowly drive it on top. I set a block behind the rear tire so it can't roll back and crush me like I've seen on those Investigation Discovery murder mysteries.

Not that anyone would think the mighty and powerful, millionaire car-god, Wilson Klein, killed me for my insurance policy, but you get the point. I don't need to be crushed by some freak accident.

Kelsie's gorgeous big doe eyes take shape against the front headlights of the car as I move around it to the other side. They're so bright. Full as the harvest moon, and deep as the ocean at night.

I'm never going to get anything done like this. Shaking my head, I force her out the best I can, and grab the creeper leaning against the garage door. I pick up the oil pan, lay on the creeper, and slip under the car.

Just focus on what you're getting paid to do.

The wheels creak under my weight, and my heels scuff against the paved driveway as I push myself under up to my stomach. I twist the oil pan bolt free and watch as the dark brown liquid streams into the pan.

Somewhere in the distance I hear singing. It's not very loud, but the wind is carrying it to me easily. I listen, trying to figure out what song is being tweeted like a morning dove's tune.

It's an older song. I can tell instantly. Elvis? Little Richard? No, it's Buddy Holly.

'Every day it's a getting closer, going faster than a roller-coaster. A hey, a hey, hey. . .' I can hear the words now, and the keyboard as it jingles like bells in my head.

I dig my heels against the driveway, pulling myself out from under the car, and lifting my head up to look down the street. My eyes are fuzzy from the change in lighting, so I blink a couple times until they're clear.

Kelsie comes around the corner, with her dog on the leash, her ponytail bouncing side to side with every step. There's a small earbud in her right ear. Her eyes are closed as she sings to herself. Garlits is jogging at her side, with a tongue almost as big as him hanging out of his mouth.

Her leggings are skintight, and her tank-top hugs her like a wet shirt. My eyes bounce with her chest as her feet hit the sidewalk and she dances with her hands to the beat of the music.

I push up on the seat, resting my forearms against my knees as I watch her with a smile on my face. I honestly don't think she realizes just how pretty she is. She holds herself differently than a girl who's spent years in beauty pageants.

Her chin might be held up high, and her back might be straight as an arrow now, but when she came around the corner this morning, I saw something different. Her body slumped forward, and her hands tapped nervously against her thighs. Her eyes shifted nervously as if she was afraid to look at me directly.

I found it sad to see her so timid and unsure of herself. But there was a hint of attraction. I couldn't see it, but I sure as hell could feel it. Like a tether that stretched from her to me and pulled on my chest.