I break away from him. “I’ll pay you, obviously. I don’t expect you to work for free.”
He shakes his head. “Nope. Not taking money from you.”
“But Lo-”
He silences me with a finger to my lips. “No. You can pay me in food and water, but not money. I don’t want a single cent from you. Just keep me company while I work, and I’ll be happy. You pay for the parts, the labour is free.”
“Okay, deal.” I agree, though I’m still not one-hundred percent happy with not paying him for his time.
“I work at the shop four or five days a week, so, the rest of the time I’m all yours.”
“This means so much to me Logan, you don’t know how grateful I am.”
“I’m glad to help. The car’s important to you, so it makes it important to me too. I promise, I’m gonna see this through, right until the very end.”
Chapter 8
Amy
“So, what made you want to be a mechanic?” I ask, sitting on the old armchair as I watch Logan, bent over the car, working on something under the hood. He explained earlier what was on the agenda today, but it all went over my head. Aside from the basics like putting the key in the ignition and turning it to engage the engine, I don’t know shit about cars.
I have no idea what any of it meant.
For the better part of the day, my gaze has not left Logan once. I’ve watched as the muscles in his biceps flex and ripple as he works on the car. It’s hot out here today, unusually hot for this time of year, and I’ve watched the sweat that beads on Logan’s forehead and on the nape of his neck, slowly trickle down to soak through his crisp white t-shirt for far too long. Every now and again, a stray piece of hair becomes displaced, falling forward over his forehead and he reaches up to run a hand through his hair.
Could this man possibly get any sexier?
Every time Logan glances in my direction, I avert my gaze, hoping to God he doesn’t realise I’ve been checking him out the whole time he’s been here.
“When I was a kid, I loved building and fixing things. I was always intrigued with how things worked and fit together.” He continues working while he speaks. “It started when I fixed my bike for the first time when I was twelve, the chain fell off, and I managed to fix it all by myself. It went from there. I found that I was good at fixing stuff. I like the way things piece together, how everything slots into place.”
“I wouldn’t even know where to start,” I comment.
He beckons me over to him. “Come here, I’ll show you.”
I shake my head. “No way, I’ll probably break something.”
“You won’t, now come here,” he says, his voice firmer and it makes me shiver. I take a deep breath and rise to my feet, coming to a stop beside him. “Take this,” he says, handing me what I think is a wrench.
“What am I doing with it?” I ask.
“Weare going to change a spark plug.” He must see the flash of fear and hesitation in my face because he laughs. “Don’t worry, I’ll show you.”
He grabs my waist and moves me into position in front of him. He guides my hand holding the wrench and reaches down to where it needs to go. His free hand stays on my waist as we bend over the car, my ass against his crotch.
Oh shit.This won’t end well.
By the time we’ve changed the final spark plug, I’m sweating, my glasses are sliding down my nose, and my clothes are sticking to my body. It’s not from the job itself, and not just from the blazing heat, but from having Logan so close. I don’t know how I managed to get through this without melting into a puddle at his feet. There hasn’t been a single moment where a part of his body wasn’t touching mine, and to say it has been hell is an understatement.
It was the worst kind of torture to have him touch me, but notreallytouch me. Not the way I want him to.
“You did good, I’m impressed. Got a feeling you could put me out of a job,” he praises.
I spin on me heel to look up at him. “Well, you’re a good teacher.”
He reaches up to tuck a piece of my hair behind my ear. “I can teach you a lot of things, babygirl,” he says with a smirk, and my belly flutters.
I bet he can.
