𝐏𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐬 ━━ 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐥

ꜰᴏᴜʀ

chapter four — CHEATER

Y/N arrived at Boothill's family ranch later than she intended. It was already well into the afternoon, and the sun hung high in the sky, casting shadows over the open fields. She felt a twinge of guilt as she made her way up the dirt path, wondering if she should have come earlier. But Boothill hadn't specified a time, so she figured he wouldn't mind.

As she rounded the corner of the barn, she spotted him. Boothill was already hard at work on her car, his back to her as he leaned over the engine. His shirt was nowhere to be seen, leaving his bare, sun-kissed skin on full display. A rag hung from the back pocket of his jeans, and his hair was pulled back into a loose, low ponytail. Sweat glistened on his toned muscles, each one flexing and shifting as he worked.

Boothill looked like he'd stepped straight out of a romance novel, and she was the damsel caught in his thrall. Her mouth went dry as her eyes traced the curve of his shoulders, down the strong lines of his back, and finally rested on the black ink along his hip that disappeared beneath his pants.

Y/N's mind came to a sudden halt, shamelessly ogling the sight before her. At least, it was shameless, until he turned around and caught her staring. He smirked, leaning back against the car with a knowing glint in his eye. "Afternoon, darlin'."

Y/N snapped out of her daze, heat rushing to her cheeks. She quickly diverted her gaze, but not before noticing the mischievous tilt of his smile. "Sorry I'm late. I wasn't sure when you wanted me to come by."

Boothill chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "No worries. Knew you'd show up eventually."

She tried to keep her eyes on his face, but it was hard when he was standing there like some kind of Greek god. It didn't help that his jeans seemed to hang dangerously low on his hips, exposing an X-shaped scar on the left side of his lower abs. There he went again with his stupidly distracting slutty waist.

"Hope you're ready to get your hands dirty," he said, reaching for the toolbox on the ground. "Already replaced the brake pads and fixed the callipers, but figured I'd show you how to replace the timing belt yourself."

Y/N blinked, momentarily distracted by the way his muscles flexed when he bent down. "You want me to do it?"

"Yep," Boothill replied, pulling out a wrench and handing it to her. "I'll walk ya through it. It's a bit tricky, but you'll get the hang of it."

She took the wrench, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. "Good thing I wore jeans and a T-shirt today," she muttered, grateful she hadn't gone with a dress again.

Boothill grinned. "Smart choice."

He guided Y/N through the timing belt change step by step, his hands moving deftly as he explained each part of the process. He pointed out the tensioner, the pulleys, and how everything fit together, his voice steady and patient.

"This here's the timing belt," he said, fingers brushing over the worn rubber. "It's what keeps everything in sync. If this goes, your engine's in a world of trouble."

Y/N nodded, trying to focus on his words instead of the way his muscles flexed with each movement. She kept her eyes on the car, her heart beating a little too fast for her liking.

After he finished the demonstration, Boothill looked over at her with a mischievous grin. "Alright, now it's your turn."

"What?" Y/N blinked, already nervous she would screw something up with her apocalypse-level bad luck.