“The power steering went out,” I answered. “I’m fine. I pulled over to the shoulder, and Bas was there in, like, less than five minutes. Then Gray showed up and stayed with us until Dad got there. It was practically a party.”
“You’re headed back to the garage now? Do you want me to meet you there?”
“No, don’t worry about it,” I said quickly. “I’ll just ride home with Dad. I doubt we’ll be long.”
“I can’t believe they loaned you a piece of shit,” Mom said with an annoyed sigh.
“Well, the heated seats were nice while they lasted,” I replied. “I’m fine, Ma. Seriously. We’ll be home in a little bit.”
“Okay. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
“She pissed?” Dad asked as soon as I’d hung up.
“No, she’s fine,” I replied as we turned into the driveway and waited for a prospect I didn’t recognize to open the gate. “But you’ll probably hear about it when we get home.”
“Figured.”
We parked in the forecourt, and it wasn’t until we were backing up to a closed garage bay that I realized that Bas had followed us back. He parked, strode toward us, and was waiting by the time we climbed out of the wrecker.
“I’ll open the door,” Dad called, tossing Bas a set of keys.
“You didn’t have to follow us back,” I said as Dad disappeared into the large garage.
“Feelin’ a little less shaky now?” Bas asked gently as he looked me over.
“The adrenaline has worn off, and now I feel a little like an ass for interrupting everyone’s night, so yeah. Less shaky,” I confirmed.
“The alternative would’ve been tryin’ to drive it home,” he said. “Coulda fucked up the car or worse. It was better you interrupted my TV show.”
“My dad didn’t have to call you,” I said with an embarrassed smile. “I could’ve waited for Gray.”
Bas nodded with a sly smile. “Then I guess you owe me. I had to put pants on.”
“You weren’t wearing pants?” I asked as his smile grew.
“Let’s go, Bas,” Dad called as he climbed on the back of the wrecker.
I watched with nothing to do while they pulled the car into the garage, then slowly made my way inside. When I was a kid, we weren’t allowed inside, and stepping even one foot past the doors was enough to get you in a heap of trouble. There were always power tools running and heavy shit being moved around and sharp objects lying out. No place for kids, especially since there were so many of us to keep track of. All the boys had moved past that rule since most of them worked in the garage now, but I could count on my fingers the number of times I’d been inside.
I stood out of the way as they lifted the car and got to work. Nothing they said made a damn bit of sense to me, but it was kind of interesting watching them work together. They handed each other tools and anticipated next steps as they took one of the tires off and started messing with stuff I couldn’t see.
I barely glanced at my dad. I’d seen him work on cars my whole life, and he’d taught me how to check fluid levels and change a flat tire and my oil when I’d first started driving. Watching Bas was an entirely different experience.
There was something obscenely attractive about a capable man doing physical labor. I appreciated intelligence, and a sense of humor and good manners were always a turn-on, but the attractiveness of a man working with his hands was a different animal altogether. It was visceral. Watching his forearms andshoulders flex as he worked on the car was nearly a religious experience, and I stood perfectly still, hoping they wouldn’t glance at me as I felt my face flush.
When he crouched down, his jeans hugging his thighs and ass? I had to look away.
Good Lord.
I looked around the garage, trying to find anything else to focus on, but my attention was brought back by the tone in their voices, even though I couldn’t hear what they were saying.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, moving a little closer.
“It doesn’t make any sense,” Dad said, his voice low as he shook his head.
“It looks cut, man,” Bas insisted. “This isn’t normal wear and tear, and we would’ve seen it before if there was a weak spot in the line.”
