Add in the sexy little pairs skating session with Ben a few hours prior and I was fighting to keep things professional between us.
“It’s my car, let me do it,” I insisted as Ben fished through my trunk to find the spare. We’d quickly figured out that I’d run over a nail that had been slowly leaking the entire drive. “I’m fast.”
He shot me a look. “I’ve got this. It’s cold out.”
“Do youreallythink the cold bothers me?”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m a gentleman.”
“C’mon, I’mserious,” I bitched at him. “Mr. Chen showed me how, and he made me and Zoey race to see who was better at it.”
It was typical of my surrogate father, teaching us a useful life skill and then turning it into sport. It was how I’d learned to read a map—who can find the quickest route to Salt Lake City?—and jump-start a car—the loser gets electrocuted.
“We’ll split it. I’ll take care of the jack and pull the old tire off.” He paused. “And maybe I’ll put the spare on.”
“Oh, so all I get to do is take care of the lug nuts?Move.”
I hip checked him hard enough that he stumbled a few steps away from the trunk, then hoisted the spare out.
A car sped by and honked at us.
“I can take care of myself,” I said as I lowered it to the ground and started rolling it toward the flat.
“Yeah, but isn’t it nice to know that you don’t always have to?” Ben asked. He grabbed the wrench from the kit and knelt down in front of the flat tire. He started spinning the thing on the first lug nut.
“Onlyhalfa turn before you jack it up,” I scolded.
“Sorry, sorry, you’re right,” he said as he moved on to the second one. “Been awhile.”
I tried to ignore the way the bright sun brought out the hidden copper in his hair, and how his forearms flexed as he spun the wrench like a pro. And those hands...
Ben glanced over his shoulder and caught me staring.
“What? Am I still doing it wrong?”
“No, no, not at all,” I sputtered as my face went hot. “Should I get the jack?”
He reached for it. “I’m right here, let me do this part.”
“Fine,” I sighed. “But you have to put it in a specific spot under—”
“Thanks, AutoZone, I know that.”
Then he had the audacity towinkat me.
He bent over to look under the car, which made his jeans slide down enough to expose the waistband of his boxer briefs. The red, white, and blue Ralph Lauren logo on the band proved he was Team USA forever.
Ben had the front of the car suspended in record time, way faster than I could’ve done it. Not that I’d ever admit it to him.
“Madame,” he said with a flourish. “You’re up.”
“Thank you. Now watch how it’s done,” I boasted.
I moved quickly, like I was on a NASCAR pit crew, because that’s the way Mr. Chen had taught us. He’d lectured us about the hidden dangers of breaking down on a busy road, so I maintained a healthy fear even though the mountain pass had been pretty quiet so far, and we had a decent buffer from any cars that drove down the rural road.
I got the tire off, rolled it to my trunk, and then ran back.
“And the crowd goes wild,” I intoned with the cadence of a sportscaster. “Quinn Albright is about to set a new world record in flat changing.”
