“Jono, is it?” I tilted my head to one side as if I couldn’t remember. A silent game had begun.
“That’s me,” his mouth twitched. He was wearing a fitted black singlet like the last time I’d seen him, the kind that hugged in all the right places. I let my eyes linger on the single button of his black chinos for a moment before I caught his gaze again.
“I’m after some oil.” I tilted my head again towards the yellow-pain-in-my-ass.
“So, you said,” he replied, his brown eyes full of mischief as he grabbed a large green bottle from a cupboard under the bench.
“Oh, I don’t think I need that much.” I waved my hand towards the bottle, and he rolled his eyes.
“I’m going to top it up for you, okay? That way I can make sure it’s good and filled.”
I doubted the innuendo was accidental, even if it was cringe-worthy and took two points off his hotness scale.
“I thought you might’ve left town by now,” he said, leaning over the engine a beat later. “Haven’t seen you around.”
His arms flexed as he worked, and I caught myself watching the dried oil deep in his thick-fingered hands. I didn’t know what it was about men with work-rough hands, but I was here for it.
Dax didn’t have hands like that. Unless we were gardening. He was always clean and had his perfect pile of exact change. Always trying to be helpful and understand me better.
Ugh.
I tried to shake him from my mind; it’s not like we were a thing. We’d never even gone on a date. He was… a weirdly helpful cop friend. With a great ass. That was it.
After my dad’s revelation, my mind felt like someone had twisted the kaleidoscope and all the shapes were suddenly unfamiliar. But I did know one thing that could make it feel better. For an hour anyway, and I’d take any reduction in pain at this rate.
“I meant to,” I said, intentionally running my finger across my bottom lip.
Jono swallowed. “Oh yeah? Got some unfinished business to attend to?”
He shut the bonnet with a thud.
“You could say that,” I replied, letting my gaze flick up to the apartment above the garage. Then I looked back at him through my lashes.
A smile danced across his mouth.
“You want some coffee while you’re here?” he asked. “I’ve got a fancy Nespresso upstairs.”
Take me now, sailor. A Nespresso machine.
Next he’d be offering to let me use the good mugs. You know, the ones that didn’t have a dancing woman who got more naked the quicker you drank.
I swallowed a smile.
“Coffee sounds good,” I heard myself say.
It felt like I’d separated from my physical body somewhere during the drive home.
The corners of Jono’s eyes crinkled in a way that made my stomach swoon, and he flicked the sign on the workshop door around from open to a message that read‘I’m currently attending a call-out. Please leave your details with Maewyn’.I assumed she must have been the tired woman from earlier.
“Original or extra strength?” Jono asked as we climbed the stairs.
He kicked the base of the door at the top of the steps before shouldering it open.
“Breaking in?” I asked, stepping into the obvious bachelor pad behind him. Empty beer cans and car magazines with busty women sprawled across the front of them scattered his coffee table. His décor comprised a naked woman calendar that hadn’t been turned for two months. The brown-haired beauty must have been a favourite. It’s not that it was dirty; the carpets appeared vacuumed and dishes dried in a down-turned pile on a rack on the stainless bench, it was just an obvious single-person zone.
“Huh? Oh, the door,” he said, making his way to the far wall and the kitchenette, which indeed housed the promised machine. “Nah, gets sticky when it’s been raining.”
“Original,” I said, answering his earlier question as I took in the surroundings. It was less of an apartment, more studio flat—everything in one room. At least the grey duvet cover looked smooth on his bed. Hopefully clean. I bypassed it and made my way to the brown sofa instead—one of those deep, squishy ones that looked like it might swallow you whole. This was the couch where the action probably happened—if Jono was the kind of guy who entertained action, that is. People like us usually stand out to each other. It’s like a radar of understanding that we take part in a hanky panky no judgement zone.
