Jock Blocked

8

Stella

I pulled my car into the parking lot of Pete’s just as my engine made a strange sound, and smoke started billowing out from under the hood. I looked down at my temperature gauge, seeing that the needle was all the way to hot.

“Shit,” I muttered under my breath. After turning off the car and sitting there a moment, the smoke still coming out from under the hood, a few people glancing my way, I rested my head back on the seat and felt embarrassment flood me.

This was exactly what I didn’t need right now, but I guess the timing was kind of perfect. I was at Pete’s Auto Shop, after all.

I grabbed my purse and climbed out of the car, heading inside. Ryan stood by the counter going over some invoices, and when the little bell above the door jingled my entrance, he glanced up. He didn’t show any expression on his face at first, but he did look me up and down.

I felt greasy, oily from his gaze. “Pete around?” He tipped his chin toward the garage. “Thanks.” I moved past him, feeling Ryan watching me the whole time.

I pulled open the door, classic rock instantly surrounding me, the sound of men laughing and talking, of tools clanking on the cement, filling my ears. For a moment, I just stood there and looked around, seeing cars hoisted up, men working on them. I saw Pete over by the sink, washing his hands. I made my way toward him, smiling at a few of the guys as I walked by.

Pete glanced up at me and shifted so he faced me now. I didn’t miss his gaze drop to my chest. What was with all these asshole guys?

“Hey,” I said louder than usual so he could hear me. “You think you could look at my car? Smoke’s coming out from under the hood and my temperature gauge is all the way up.”

“Sure thing.” He gave a sharp nod before grabbing a rag and drying his hands off.

I followed him out and toward my car, popping the hood when he asked, and climbing out to stand off to the side.

For several minutes, he looked under the hood, reaching down and messing with things, before he finally straightened and closed it again. “You need a new water pump,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Okay. How much is that and how long does that usually take to fix?”

He lifted his hand and scratched his cheek, looking at my car as if thinking about it. “I won’t charge you for labor, but I know we don’t have this in stock. Cost is probably going to be around eighty bucks or so.”

I nodded and looked at my car. “How long do you think it’ll be before it comes in?” I knew from working in the shop that it could take as little as a couple days, or as long as a couple weeks.

He shrugged, his overalls grease-stained, his hands the same even though he’d just washed them. “Week tops, maybe sooner. But I probably can’t get to it until the end of next week, if it comes in by then.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Usually how these things work.” He looked back at my car, then back at the garage. “We’ll get ‘er done, though.”

“Okay, well thanks for not charging me labor. I guess just let me know when you find out more.”

He gave a gruff grunt. “I’ll have you order the part.”

I nodded once. That was what I normally did at work anyway.

We headed back inside and I went behind the front desk, sat in the old rickety chair that felt like sandpaper and smelled like grease, and pulled out my cell phone and sent Cannon a text.

So, I have a favor to ask?

A second later I saw those little dots in the bottom left-hand corner that told me he was responding.

Cannon: Anything.

I need a ride to and from work for the next couple weeks. If you can?

Again, those little dots were flickering in the corner.

Cannon: No problem. Everything ok?

Fine, just my crappy car finally took a shit.

Cannon: Where are you? I’ll come get you now.

I’m at Pete’s. Thank God it waited until I pulled into the parking lot.

I could feel the worry coming through his text, in the speed of his responses. I couldn’t help but smile.

Cannon: I’ll be there when you get off work.

After finishing up the text, I put my phone back in my bag and looked through the main windows out to the garage. Pete was standing by Ryan, both of them staring out at the parking lot. A second later, Pete handed my car key to Ryan. It was a few minutes later that Ryan pulled my car into the garage, the smoke billowing out from under the hood all over again.

Pete came in and handed me a slip of paper that told me what I’d need to order for it. I went to work placing the order, but my mind was on Cannon.