"You can just fix it?" she asked, surprised. "How?"
Did he like the awe in her words? Yeah, he did.
"Same way you fix people." He shrugged, wiping his hands on a rag and tossing it in the tool kit. "Skill."
"Huh." She pointed at him with an M&M between her fingers. "Who knew you were so mysterious, with such hidden depths?"
Mach scanned the area, and Tanner was busy with the toolbox, so no one was looking in their direction.
He should’ve backed away and finished up with her tire. Did what Courtney said to do and tell Darla the details of theLately, Latershow appearance she was squaring away.
But he didn’t do any of that.
Instead Mach moved slowly into Darla’s space, fencing her in at the side of the truck with his body until her eyes glimmered and she was breathing more quickly, the effort making her chest rise and fall right against his body.
This was that dangerous game he was toeing the line on.
"You think it’s funny, huh?" he asked. "Don’t forget you’re playing in the deep end with me."
The M&M still in Darla’s hand, he leaned in and took it with his mouth. With the scent of peanuts between them, and the taste of chocolate candy coating on his tongue, he understood he was also playing in the deep end and the odds of drowning in Darla were high.
Darla said nothing, her hand still poised as though holding the now nonexistent candy.
"And, yes," he said, when she said nothing else.
"Yes, what?" she asked with an edge of a squeak to the question.
"I can change your oil," he said and then paused briefly, "I can do a lot of things—flush your transmission, rotate your tires, change your brake pads, and even rebuild your carburetor."
Once again they were not talking about her vehicle.
"Is my carburetor broken, too?" she asked, breathlessly.
He intentionally leaned in closer, so their bodies were only millimeters apart. If anyone looked their way, they’d see nothing but two people having a conversation.
Then he lifted the pad of his thumb to the edge of her mouth where a little chocolate had settled in the crease. "Your carburetor is just fine."
His eyes held hers the entire time that he wiped away the crumb before lifting his thumb to his mouth and sucking off the residue.
Time suspended between them, and there was no forward progression. Just them.
"Want another one?" she asked, holding up the bag, the hopeful fake-as-hell innocence in her eyes giving him the fix he so desperately wanted before.
He reached for one. Because why the hell not?
The taste of her candy mingled with the scent of her perfume—vanilla and cinnamon, warmth and comfort.
"Mach?" she said, and her gaze entwined with his as she said, "Let’s go to California."
Dammit all, but that made him feel ten feet tall. A hazardous feeling because when a guy felt like he was floating on a pizza slice—like gravity didn’t apply to him anymore—he’d be tempted to stay in that feeling forever.
"Are you really ready for this?" Mach asked and he couldn’t help but grin.
Darla hesitated for a moment but then nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "Let’s release my inner rebel."
Chapter Twelve
MACH
