clears a space on his workbench, and I hop up. I finish settling while he leaves me with Finn to handle a customer.
Finn waggles his brows the minute Carter's occupied. "Never stood a chance, did I, love?"
I tug Carter's tee-shirt taut around my waist and knot it, a smile playing on my lips.
Finn hums. "Yeah, your smile tells me the answer. Damn tool." He disappears around the Benz. "Be aware, that won't stop me from making innuendos," he calls over the sound of an engine cranking.
He's a handful. "I wouldn't expect it to, but nothing is going on. We're old friends," I say over the noise of Carter driving a Honda Pilot into the empty bay.
Finn comes and stands next to the bench I sit on. The engine cuts off, and he eyes me. "You keep telling yourself that, sweetheart," he says, tapping my leg with the tool in his hand.
Carter watches us from inside the Honda before he climbs out. "What's up?"
"Nothing," I say, picking at the chipped polish on my pinky.
Like I said before, I'm a shit liar, and Carter's heavy sigh hints that he's aware I'm full of it, but the last thing I want is Finn filling Carter's head with falsehoods about my feelings. Not that feelings exist—not emotional ones. Physical? I peek through my lashes at the specimen walking toward me. He's wearing gray jeans speckled with oil and paint that come off sexy as hell—the way they show off his muscled thighs and ride low on his hips helps—with a simple black tee. Yeah, clear-cut physical sensations are lighting up my body.
Carter stops in front of me, one step shy of placing himself between my legs, his brows raising over his light eyes. Holding his gaze, I cross my right leg over the left, the toe of my shoe grazing Carter's leg. "Finn was hitting on me, nothing new."
"Huh, was he?" His index finger loops through my shoelace and tugs before resting his palm on the top of my foot. A simple gesture, but intimate.
"Don't act like you're surprised, mate." Finn opens a drawer in the chest by the workbench and pulls out a pair of heavy work gloves. "And don't pretend I didn't notice she's wearing your shirt." He waves the gloves at us and backs up. "Hmm."
Ducking my chin into the collar, I laugh.
"And don't pretend like you're not jealous as piss," Carter responds.
"No pretending on my end." Finn disappears around the Benz.
I check out the Honda parked behind Carter. "New job?"
He checks over his shoulder. "Yeah. An electrical issue." He releases my foot but closes in. "I happen to like the way you look in my shirt," he says, flicking the knot I tied above my belly button. "You know, in case you were wondering."
Carter
When work is about passion over a way to earn money, losing track of time is easy. It is seven o'clock. Shit. I walked into the office two hours ago to discuss the work schedule with Owen since we've added the Nova to our project list. He left me sitting in his office. I planned on ordering two parts and fell into a rabbit hole for thirty minutes.
Shutting things down, I double-check the front locks and pass by Chase's desk, stopping at the door leading to the shop.
Jess is across the garage laughing at Finn, who holds an animated conversation on his own, his arms making sweeping gestures. Her lilting melody carries through the glass, and this foreign awareness grabs me. Having her in my garage with my best friends has me smiling like an idiot.
She watched us work for hours. Tedious shit like fixing an electrical malfunction and flushing fluids and my helping Finn with the Benz after he skinned another knuckle and threw a wrench out the back of the building. She watched without complaint.
She avoided eye contact after I told her I liked her in my shirt, and she didn't speak of her dad or this morning, but that is okay. I invited her to lunch and to the garage to cheer her up, but as her head drops and laughter fills the garage, it's clear she is what I needed.
"Blew. Like in the movies," Finn says to a round-eyed Jess when I push through the door.
"What's going on?"
Jess jumps and clutches her chest. "I was just—"
"We were talking about NOS." Finn closes the trunk on the Benz.
"NOS, huh?" I ask, surprised she's familiar with it.