it’s kind of ridiculous how it makes my nerves spark in excitement. It isn’t a big deal, the way I lick into her mouth while holding the back of her head. It’s not the same kind of touch. It’s not erotic or novel. I’ve kissed dozens of girls just like this, fingers tangled in their hair, guiding the kiss with the press of my palm against their scalp. But with her, it’s new.
Everything with her is new.
“You need to use a hammer and screwdriver to get those plugs off.” Merle walks behind me as I struggle to remove the coolant hoses from the engine. “And don’t forget to check the pan underneath, the last thing we need around here is a spill.”
“I’m not going to spill the coolant, Jesus,” I mutter. I do go get the tools he suggested off the rack and carry them back over, using them to knock the plugs loose. Works like a charm. Merle is a pain in my ass, but he knows his cars. A few minutes later, I have the old radiator out and lying next to the new on the worktable.
“Now take the old parts and attach them to the new radiator, then you’ll reattach everything.” He looks toward the front of the garage at the sound of a car pulling up. “Hopefully that’s Mrs. Buchanan here to get her Lincoln. You know she needs it to get to choir.”
I should be working on fixing the dents and damage on Jasmine, but I’ve kept my focus on the Mustang. Part of it is that every glance at the Shelby is a reminder of all the shit I have to lose if I can’t keep my temper in check. That, and I’m just fucking dying to get this car running for Sugar. She’s an independent girl who isn’t used to relying on others so much. Also, I just want to do something nice for her. I want to see her smile. I want to know she’s happy about something.
Yeah, I’ve gone full sap.
“Things are coming along on your car,” I hear Merle say. “But it still may be a few weeks.”
“A few weeks?”
My hands still at the sound of Sugar’s voice.
“Give or take,” Merle replies. “It’s looking good, though. Do you want to see?”
“Yeah, that would be great.”
I put down the pieces of the radiator and move away from the car. I still haven’t told Sugar I’m working on the Mustang. After her reaction to the steering wheel emblem and the money I won on the race, there’s no way she’d be down with me giving this to her. I’m going to have to ease her into this with something smaller.
I move to hang the screwdriver and hammer back up on the tool board and glance over as she walks around the Lincoln. She’s still in her school uniform, the plaid skirt drawing my eyes down her legs. Her battered messenger bag hangs across her chest. Her eyes are coated in that smeared, sexy eyeliner, and it’s only been eight hours since I kissed her but that’s about seven and a half hours too long. I’d spent most of our first period sitting behind her, playing with her hair when Dr. Ross wasn’t looking. At one point, I managed to elicit a visible, shoulder-trembling shiver, and I’ve spent all day thinking about it—about how much I want to cause another one of those shivers.
I clear my throat, getting her attention. “Hey. What are you doing here?”
She doesn’t look surprised to see me, even though she says, “Oh, I thought I saw Jasmine parked around back.” She shifts her feet for a moment, looking between me and the tool board. “I came to check on the car and see if I can get Merle to let me pay him something for all the hard work he’s doing.”
Behind her, Merle grins like the Cheshire Cat, loving the fact he’s getting the praise for all my free labor.
“Don’t even think of paying him yet,” I reply, shooting him a look. “Never pay a mechanic in advance. Wait until you’re satisfied with the job.”
The bell on the office door chimes and Merle says, “That has to be Mrs. Buchanan. How about you show Sugar all the work I’ve put in on the Mustang.”
I ignore him and gesture with my arm toward the car. “It would be my pleasure.” We pass the table with the radiator and I point it out, then take her to the open hood.