“What are you doing?—”
“Pop the hood.”
The words come as a shock. Especially when the timbre of his voice vibrates over my skin like static electricity. “Ah…”
Garrett waves at the car. “I’ll take a look.”
Again, his words are rough, as though his voice is rusty, raw. The one and only time I met him, we didn’t speak. In fact, we didn’t actually meet. I’d gone with Olivia to Boyd’s, the bar he owns with his brothers, for a quick stop to drop off something to Carter, and Garrett had been behind the bar, serving customers.
The place had been far busier than I expected, and Olivia had called out hello and waved. He’d barely managed a wave in return.
“Do you know what to look for?” I ask, because he runs a bar not a garage.
The arched eyebrow I get in answer is full of disbelief.
“It’s old and?—”
“That’s how I prefer them.”
His words hold a double meaning when paired with the look in his eyes as he drags his gaze from my head to my toes and back again.
Is he checking me out?
He’s what, twenty-five?
“The hood?”
“Right. Sorry.” I scoot back into the driver’s seat and pull the latch to release the hood.
I sit for a minute contemplating that look. He was definitely checking me out. And I can’t deny the fizz of excitement that delivers. I might be a decade his senior—and God, there are days when I feel ancient—but I’m not above making the most of his attention.
Especially after tonight’s date.
I can’t see him from where I sit now that the hood is up, and I’m not going to lie to myself and pretend I don’t want to check him out in return. There’s no harm in admiring a good-looking man.
Hopping back out of the car, I close the door behind me and move to Garrett’s side.
“What did it do when you turned the key?”
His words are unexpected and make me jolt. “Oh. Um. A bunch of clicks.”
“No grinding?”
“No?” Garrett tips his head in my direction, that eyebrow arched again. “I don’t think there was. No. No. Definitely just a click every time I turned the key.”
“Can you try to start it for me?”
“Sure.”
Getting in the car again, I turn the key once then wait for further instructions. When I don’t get any, I lean forward to peer into the gap the open hood leaves, but all I see are Garrett’s hands doing God knows what to the engine. I’m the first to admitI’m not mechanical. I couldn’t even master the expensive coffee machine Julian insisted on purchasing.
“Okay. Do it again.”
I was so caught up in watching those massive hands work, I forgot about what I’m supposed to be doing. Grabbing the key again, I turn it and keep it turned. The click, click, click sounds no different than before.
“Stop!” The harshness of his voice sends a shiver down my spine and heat swirling in my belly.
What the hell? Just his voice is turning me on?
