She swallows. “Thank you. For saying that.”
I grunt instead of admitting how her gratitude hits me dead center, like a wrench to the sternum.
“Grab the drain pan,” I say, my tone harsher than I intended.
She nods and heads to the corner. When she brings it back, our fingers brush as she hands it over. Just skin. Just a second. But it zaps through me like a damn live wire.
She shivers, but I pretend not to notice. I don’t look at her. Can’t.
I yank off the old filter. Fuel drips like sludge. It smells like a haunted lawnmower.
She scrunches her nose and fans her face. “That’s… strong.”
“Decay usually is.”
When the pan’s in place, I take the first deep breath I’ve inhaled all day. Not because of the fumes—those don’t faze me. Becauseshe’s quiet, watching me like she wants to understand,
not judge.
Most people just want their cars back. They don’t care about the guts of it.
But she cares.
“So…” She clears her throat. “Do you, um… do you like working at Clover Canyon Autos?”
I slide out from under the frame. “I work with my hands. Prefer engines to people. It’s enough.”
“People can be… complicated,” she says gently.
I huff a laugh. “Engines don’t lie. They break, but they tell you how to fix them.”
“Maybe people do too,” she says softly.
I freeze. Because if that’s true… what the hell does that make me?
She crouches beside me, knees knocking the concrete, leaning in to peer at the filter.Her hair brushes my arm.I go rigid. Too close.
She’s all brightness, warmth, and that goddamn hope again. A man could drown in it.
“You okay?” she asks quietly.
Say yes, West. Say yes and get back to work.
Instead, I say, “You don’t know what you’re getting into here.”
“With the car?” Her lips quirk. “Or with you?”
I stop breathing. She does too.
This is not good. This is exactly how things get messy.
I push to my feet, wiping my hands. “Battery’s dead. That’s next.”
She follows slowly, confusion creasing her brow.
I walk to the workbench to grab a voltmeter I don’t actually need, just to put space between us. She studies me like she’s trying to decode the manual to my soul. That’s a manual I burned a long time ago.
“I don’t want to be a problem,” she says.
