Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
“Waiting room is inside, gents,” I snapped. “All new and shiny for you.”
One of the customers smirked as he replied, “Charly was telling us about the women’s clinic you’re going to run. My sister would be very interested. She hates going to a mechanic—says she feels stupid.”
Another customer nodded. “My wife would love it. Like Charly says, if she understood it, she’d be more comfortable. I have to take her car in all the time.”
Carl, the oldest man, observed my stance behind Charly with a wink. “You got yourself a treasure here, Maxx. Full to the brim with ideas.”
“Full to the brim with something,” I muttered, my anger deflated but still tense. I didn’t like Charly surrounded by men.
They all laughed and said goodbye to Charly. She bowed her head and typed on her laptop. “What are you doing?” I hissed, hunching down behind her. “You’re supposed to be inside the house.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m done getting dinner ready, and the house is clean. I decided to work outside. They just came over to chat, so I took the opportunity to tell them about the women’s classes we are going to offer.”
“I never agreed to them. I said I would think about it.”
“I think you’ve thought about it enough. You heard their reaction. It’s a good idea, Maxx. Gosh dang it, stop being so stubborn.”
I moved closer. “You are going to pay for your little stunts today, Red. Big-time.”
Her fingers faltered, then resumed their typing. “Whatever, Maxx.”
I slid my hand under her chin, lifting her face and kissing her hard and fast. “You won’t be saying whatever later. You’ll be screaming my name.”
I stood and stomped toward the garage.
“I look forward to it!” she called out.
The next day, she appeared in another shirt, worn over a tank top and another pair of yoga pants. These ones were bright blue and hugged her ass like a second skin. Her hair was hanging down her back in a long, bright swath of color. I was hard the instant I walked in and saw her across the garage. I had to turn around and pace behind the building before I could go back in. I refused to look in her direction.
Apparently, the wild sex on the stairs and in the claw-footed tub she loved so much, or the orders I issued about what she should or shouldn’t wear in the garage hadn’t sunk in. I had been certain I was clear on the yoga pants thing, but she found a loophole.
As she was sliding a sandwich beside me while I sat at the workbench, I grabbed her hand. “What did I say about yoga pants?” I snarled.
“You said no black yoga pants. These are blue.”
“I told you to stop wearing those old shirts.”
“You said I couldn’t tie them. You never said I couldn’t wear them as a cover.”
“Consider yourself warned on both counts.”
“Hmmph.”
After work, I was surprised to see her filling her basket on the bike. “Where are you going?”
“To Mary’s. Remember the lady I told you I met on the bus? Turns out, she knows Mary, so I’m going there to have dinner with them.”
I crossed my arms. “And what about me?”
She tilted her head, a smile pulling at her lips. “You want to come with and have girl talk, Maxx? You might be a little bored.”
“I meant my dinner.”
“It’s in the fridge. It’s warm today, so I made a big salad with grilled chicken. Easy peasy for you to help yourself.”
The words were out before I could stop them. “I like eating with you.”
“I’ll be home in the morning and here tomorrow night.”
I covered her hand with mine, frowning. “You’re not coming back tonight?”
She patted my hand. “Nope. You get the house to yourself all night.”
Somehow, I didn’t like the idea, which was odd. I usually enjoyed some solitary time. I felt a slight frisson of annoyance ripple through me. She hadn’t even mentioned not being here.
“There had better not be yoga pants making an appearance tomorrow, Charly.” I swore to god she was trying to kill me with those things and the shirts. She was already far too distracting without adding in my sudden obsession with her wardrobe choices.
She shook her head. “No yoga pants. Jeans. Simple jeans and a T-shirt.”
I narrowed my eyes. She was caving too quickly. “What are you up to?” I groused.
She rolled her eyes. “I only have so many clothes, Maxx. I still don’t get your beef with my pants—they cover me from waist to ankle. And it’s not as if I wander around in a bikini top—those shirts are huge.”
She was right on both counts, except the pants fit her like a second skin and the shirts looked sexy on her. She didn’t see it that way.
“You’re blind,” I snarled. “I see the customers looking at you.”