Really not helpful.
“Uh.” Walker swallowed thickly. “Go ahead and pop a squat in our waiting room. The mini fridge is stocked.”
Pop a squat.What a yummy little redneck.
“Will do.”
We stood there for a few more seconds, and then he dipped his chin, coloring as I finally stepped aside to let him take the car.
Jesus, Oz. You are so unfortunate right now.
I made my way to the chilly waiting room, where I scrolled on my phone to pass the time while a father waited with his kids. By the time Walker entered the small office, we were alone and his coveralls were fully unzipped and hanging from his waist, a greasy handprint smeared across his previously white tank top. I stood and, without thinking, reached up to swipe away a spot of grease from one of his cheekbones.
Fuck, they were like cut glass.
His chest expanded, and a rivulet of sweat dripped down past his pronounced clavicle and under the curve of the cotton neckline. I clamped my mouth shut as I counted his abs through the thin material, willing a certain body part to behave. That was unlikely, considering I couldn’t rid myself of the mental image of rucking up his tank top so I could run my tongue over each individual muscle.
Stop it.
When my eyes found Walker’s, his chest rose sharply, then collapsed on a shudder, and it made me feel like a god. He was strung so tight—I could put my hands on him, murmur something soft and sensual in his ear, and he’d fold. Or shimmer like the little sun god he was.
Before I could let my addled mind talk me into pushing his boundaries, I heroically reminded myself of Joel’s words. Not only were we in Walker’s family shop, he still might not be out to himself.
“Uh, so…” Walker started, then stopped to clear his throat.
I bit my lip, grateful I wasn’t the only one rendered useless by the chemistry between us. His eyes fell to my chest, and he shook his head as though willing himself to focus.
I know your pain, man.
“So, yeah. Pretty good chunk of metal. In your tire, I mean. And a different tire than the last time.” He stopped to check his clipboard again and took a steadying breath. “What I’m tryin’ to say is that I was able to fix it, but I have a feeling you’ll be replacing the entire set sooner rather than later. Hopefully we’ll be able to keep you rolling until the construction in your neighborhood is finished.”
“I’d appreciate that,” I said, my voice low and sandpapery.
His eyes snapped to mine and widened, then cut back to his clipboard as he tightened his grip until his knuckles went white. Practically vibrating, he stared at the paperwork as though it held the answers to the universe.
The desire to put him out of his misery was an itch under my skin. I mirrored his breathing pattern, knowing that the way we were standing wasn’t how two indifferent people acted.
Maybe I could…
“Oswald. You’re here again,” Walker’s mom said, walking into the small waiting area with a sharp, almost fierce look in her eye.
Walk took a step back, his vitality immediately shuttered, leaving me in a cold, empty vacuum. Save for a blink-and-you’d-miss-it sideways glance, he kept his eyes glued to his clipboard.
I pasted on my most agreeable smile. “Hello there, Mrs. Walker. It’s nice to see you. And yes, that neighborhood is going to be the death of my tires.”
“Well, bless your heart. What a spot of bad luck.”
I maintained my genial expression, matching her fake-ass smile. “Ah, well. What can you do?”
I turned back to Walker, wishing I could shower him with the warmth so clearly missing from his family connections. “Walk, I insist on paying for this one,” I said, pulling my wallet from my back pocket. “You were so sweet to comp me the other day, but I can pay, and I’m happy to.”
He gave me a quick nod, and I tried not to notice the way his hand trembled when he reached for my card. “Of course, Oz. I’ll swipe it for you right now.”
The way he was shutting down right in front of me made my sun-dappled visions of curly-haired, blue-eyed babies disappear into the ether. I’d obviously needed this dose of reality. It was clear in the chill of this over-air-conditioned waiting room that his family had kept him nailed to the ground, and I didn’t know if he had it in him to overcome it.
Frankly, I had to ask myself if I wanted to pursue a guy who had never declared his sexuality as anything other than straight.
Hoping to spare him further friction with his family, I thanked him and said, “Hey, if you could put the first tire on there as well, I’d appreciate it.”
