Tiger Lily - May Dawson Page 0,15

I’ve ever seen anyone shake in front of me, it’s because I was pelting them with baked goods.”

“You can pelt me with baked goods any time,” Dylan said mildly. “I like chocolate.”

“Interesting kink.”

Dylan swung the passenger door open for me—always so gallant--and I climbed up. There was a bench seat in the front of the tow truck, so I shifted toward the center as Dylan climbed in beside me and Blake got into the driver’s seat.

Well, maybe not so gallant.

“Why do I have to ride in the middle?” I asked.

“Because we like you,” Dylan said, at the same time as Blake said, “Because I’m your boss.”

I glanced between the two of them.

“Dylan,” Blake sighed.

Dylan shrugged. “I’m sure she’s noticed.”

Thank goodness we weren’t even driving a mile, because things were so awkward in that vehicle.

“Archie’s been on reception duty, he’s going to be thrilled to see you,” Blake told me as he pulled the truck past the shiny new Hot Wheels sign. Their garage was a three-door unit of freshly painted white concrete blocks, with tires stacked at the entrances like decor.

“The garage looks great,” I said, and when Dylan smiled, I realized it was probably the first nice thing I’d said.

I didn’t know why they liked me when I was so prickly. Maybe prickly was their kink. I didn’t think I was that lucky, though. We’d been friends since we were kids. No surprise they’d take pity on me.

“Go in and say hi to Archie while we get your grandpa’s car set up,” Blake told me. “He can get you started while we finish up the minivan we’re working on. Then we’ll get to work on your grandpa’s car together.”

His bossiness made me bristle, which was awkward, because he was my boss.

“Oh, yes sir,” I said lightly, before I hopped down onto the smooth, newly poured concrete driveway.

As I walked toward the glass door to the lobby, Dylan smacked Blake.

“What?” Blake hissed.

“Do you have to be like this?” Dylan demanded.

“Like what?”

“Like an overbearing German Shepherd who always has to be in charge!”

“I am a German Shepherd!”

I left the sounds of their bickering behind me. They might not be brothers biologically, but they had certainly become brothers—complete with the tendency to beat each other up when we were young.

Blake smacked Dylan back.

Nix that thought about them hitting each other when we were young. Apparently they found socking each other to be timeless.

When I pushed open the door, there was no one there, though. No Archie. A strange sense of disappointment washed over me.

I turned in a circle to view their reception area. Everything was very clean—definitely Archie at work, from what I know of the three of them—but it was sterile. Six white plastic chairs, lined up like soldiers against the walls. A bare counter.

“No magazines?” I asked no one in particular. “Not even a potted plant?”

These guys needed some help, and that made me feel better about taking the job, despite Blake’s high-handedness.

When no one emerged after I spent a minute wandering around the big but empty lobby, I went to the windows and looked out.

Blake and Dylan, my very mature new bosses, appeared to be wrestling each other.

The two of them toppled over into the bushes at the end of the driveway.

I heaved a sigh. They were still a hundred times better than Mr. Muffins back in the city.

I pushed open the door between the reception space and the garage itself. The brand new door swung open soundlessly. They could probably use bells on the door so they could hear any potential customers. I’d add that to the list.

There was a minivan in the garage, and a pair of skinny denim-covered legs stuck out underneath. Archer’s heels bounced back and forth absently. He was listening to music, I’d bet.

When we were kids, Blake tried to boss me and Dylan tried to kiss me.

Archer just ignored me.

Just like now, as I said hi to him for the fourth time.

I glanced around the garage and noticed a board with wheels at each corner, almost like a giant skateboard.

I laid down on my back on it, feeling awkward, and pushed myself by my heels underneath the car.

He was intent on whatever he was doing underneath the car, and he didn’t even notice me at first. His head bobbed to the music, but he was wearing earbuds so I couldn’t hear what he was listening to.

He looked handsome in profile, a toothpick bobbing in time with the music too, between his nicely-shaped pink