He stares at me like I’m the map to every place he promised himself he wouldn’t go. “Sally…”
“Yes?” It comes out breathless.
He opens his mouth… then shuts it again. Scrubs his hand down his face, as if he can wipe away the feeling.
“We should get back to work,” he says gruffly.
Of course. Work is safe. Work doesn’t kiss back.
I slide out of the seat, knees wobbly. “Right. Work.”
But the way his gaze follows me before he turns away?
There’s nothing safe about that.
At all.
Later, with the camera rolling again, I film a quick outro.
“Okay, team. Progress tonight: fuel tank removed! A major victory. Nolan says it’s like clearing a clogged artery before you can make a new heart pump properly.” I grin. “He’s very poetic when he doesn’t realize he’s mic’d.”
Nolan’s low voice rumbles from under the hood: “I’m not poetic.”
“Debatable. We’ll revisit this later.” I wink at the camera. “Tune in next time for more mechanical miracles from Clover Canyon Autos.”
I stop recording. My audience isn’t huge, but they’re loyal. After dinner last night, a few new subscribers popped up—people who apparently worship Grumpy Mechanics.
I grab my phone to check for comments. Curiosity… purely scientific.
greasegirl88:if that mechanic doesn’t kiss you I WILL
ToolTimeTina:the tension serve it, queen
carbutt69:pls ask his name in the next vid
GarageDaddy99:Is he single? Asking for MYSELF
wrenchwench:NOT ME FALLING FOR HIS FOREARMS
I choke. Nolan glances over.
“What?”
“Uh. Nothing.” I angle the phone away like it’s radioactive.
He folds his arms. “Show me.”
“Nope!”
His eyes narrow. Very suspicious.
“You made promises about filming,” he reminds me.
“I did. I promised not to film you?—”
“You did.”
“—without asking. And I didn’t ask. So I didn’t film you.”
