“He’s not good with cars,” Lio chimes in helpfully, and I shoot him a stern look.
“Well, I gathered that,” she tells him, and they both grin at each other as if they just bonded over my idiocy.
“I tried to find the problem,” I mumble, straightening and peering into the hood again. “There seems to be a leak.”
Sloan lets out an amused snort, saying, “Thanks, Sherlock,” before she walks around the van and rummages in the back, returning with gloves and pliers.
With a sigh, she gets to work under the hood, leaning over the motor. She’s not a small woman, but the van is big, and she has to get on her toes to reach where she needs to. My eyes unintentionally wander to her perfectly round ass in those leggings, now visible because her sweater has been pulled up with her movements.
For fuck’s sake.
To stop staring at her ass while she probably needs help, I stand next to her, watching as she carefully clamps off the damaged hose to stop the coolant flow, and it appears this is not the first time she’s doing something like this.
But I ask anyway, “Can I help?—”
“This should buy me some time,” she mutters under her breath, stopping me short before she goes back to the rear of the van, returning with a green bottle. She refills the radiator with the little coolant that’s left. The smoke begins to thin, and the van’s engine roars back to life, though not without a few grumbles of protest.
She steps back, wiping the sweat from her brow, and gives the van a weary smile. “Hang in there, old girl. We’ll get you proper repairs soon.”
She closes the hood, removes her gloves, and hops into the driver’s seat, flipping the visor down to check herself in the mirror before cutting the engine. As she steps back next to us, her eyes are still red, and I have an overwhelming urge to pull her in for a hug and get her home to dote on her until she doesn’t look so defeated anymore.
She should never look like this.
“You’re good with cars,” Lio declares from beside me, voicing what I already thought to myself.
She laughs. “I hope so. It’s my job,” she shares, smiling down at him.
“You’re a mechanic?” I ask, furrowing my brows.
That could be perfect. Maybe she could fill in for William for a few weeks, at least until he feels better. And even better if she wants to stay after he’s good again. Having two mechanics wouldn’t be the worst thing, anyway.
And having her around would be interesting, to say the least.
“What? You think a woman can’t be a mechanic?” she asks, her stance getting defensive as she crosses her arms over her chest and frowns at me intensely.
“What? No, of course, they can. You just showed me that you’re an amazing one. I mean, I proved that I’m not.” I try to reassure her. “We’re not in the fifties anymore.”
She huffs a bitter laugh. “Tell that your brother.”
What does that even mean?
Nash isn’t a chauvinist. I taught him better.
“Why do you say that?” I inquire.
“Mr. Jones told me that he was not looking for ‘Barbie the mechanic doll’ when I had an interview with him two days ago for the vacant position of the mechanic in you guys’ shipyard,” she explains, her voice carrying a note of frustration and hurt.
I nearly fall backward. “What?”
That fucker hasn’t even told me about it.
“And while he was at it, he basically called me a gold digger.” She bites her lip and looks down to the ground.
“What’s a gold digger?” Lio asks innocently from beside me.
“Someone that digs for gold,” I tell him absentmindedly. Then, addressing her, I apologize, “I’m so sorry that he treated you like that.”
I swear, I’m going to whoop North’s ass so hard he won’t be able to sit in his pretty office for two days.
