"Why do they call you Hurry?"
He looked up from the cracked manifold, wiping oil and grease from his fingers and tucking the rag in the back pocket of his overalls.
"Because I don't."
The girl hovered, hands behind her as she craned her neck to see what he was doing with the '67 Chevy Camaro. He hated stray women in the service bay. It was a workplace safety hazard for a start, but Mike didn't care. He liked a pretty woman or two around the place. She qualified on the pretty front, with her perky boobs in the tight floral dress with full skirt. Like something his grandma might have worn.
Except she wasn't all black and white like the picture in mum's lounge. Her mocha skin glowed with something more than health and her full lips shone red and lush. And kissable. Shite. She was way out of his league. Didn't stop him looking though. Dark chocolate eyes; ink black wavy hair, tied up high and falling over one shoulder; the curvy shape of her; long smooth legs and wearing sparkly shoes with heels like spikes. Not what he was used to in downtown Wattle Crossing, population two thousand forty-two.
"So, can you fix it?"
She was almost bouncing, shifting from one foot to another and he couldn't resist another look at the soft flesh peeping over the scooped neckline. "You in a hurry to leave town?"
"No. I've just arrived. I'm teaching at the primary school once term starts next week."
She smiled as she said it and his heart nosedived to meet his dick springing to attention. Double shite.
"It'll take a day or two to get the parts. The wrecker over at Callervale might have something." To avoid looking at her disappointed face, he turned to close the bonnet of the Camaro. It was in good order. Worth spending money on. "Do you want a quote?"
Lizzy watched him smooth his large hands over the glossy red paint. Like he loved it. Like he might handle a woman, tender and strong with calloused palms and long clever fingers. He was big, towering over her meagre five foot two, his broad shoulders hunched as if he spent a lot of time bent over the engines of the cars he serviced. Geeze Liz, two minutes in town and she was already scoping out the talent. She should have learned her lesson.
But he looked dependable. Like a man you could give your heart to and not have it crushed. "Don't worry about a quote. I need it done. I'm good for the money." She gazed up into clear blue eyes that crinkled when he smiled. Not that he smiled much. "I trust you."
"I'll let you know if the cost is likely to blow out."
"Great." His blond hair needed a cut and she wanted to push the long lock that fell forward over his left eye into place. She'd seen him earlier, filling out forms in the office while she booked her car with the girl at the counter. Then she'd got bored in the waiting room and peeked into the garage to see him bending over the engine of the Camaro. She'd been out there like a shot. But mostly he'd ignored her.
Until she'd asked about the name embroidered on his overalls and got that positively carnal look, top to bottom. One thing she'd learned from her abortive love life at university was to recognise lust. And he was lusting alright. Just not prepared to do anything about it.
"Only problem, I've been invited to a dance tonight. At the woolshed out of town. I don't know where it is exactly, and now I don't have a car..." She let the words trail off invitingly but he only shrugged.
"Can't the fellow who invited you pick you up?"
"It was one of the other teachers. She's going with her boyfriend and another couple so the car is full."
"We could loan you a vehicle."
"It would be better if I went with someone who knew the district." She fluttered her lashes at him. "I don't suppose you could take me?"
"I don't dance."
"Not even to welcome a stranger to town."
He stared at her, bright blue eyes hard and unfriendly. "Not even then. City girl."
It sounded like an insult and she sucked in a deep breath to return it in kind but he'd turned away.
Her mouth stayed open as he limped away, left leg dragging, his whole body twisting to pull the damaged limb after him. Oh lord, Lizzy. Way. To. Go.
He paused at the door to the office. "See Shelly at reception about loaning a car."
"Wait." She plunged across the room, conscious of the loud click of her heels on the cement floor.
Arriving breathless in front of him, she bent over, resting her hands on her knees.
"If flashing your tits at me is supposed to be some kind of consolation prize, thanks but no thanks."
Straightening up, she returned his glare. "I wasn't flashing anything. Besides, a gentleman would look away."
"I think we already established I'm no gentleman. Tell Shelly I said you could have the white corolla in the back shed."
"So you really don't want to take me?"
He grimaced, a waste of a nice mouth. "You're kidding. You know why I won't."
"I don't. Fair enough if you don't want to dance. But these events usually involve drinking and socialising too." She widened her eyes deliberately. "You could introduce me around."
His knuckles shone white as he gripped the doorframe. "Look lady, if this is some kind of joke..."
"Seriously. I'd like you to take me."
"No dancing?"
She held up her hand with the little finger crooked. "Pinky promise."
His eyes crinkled and her heart gave a little skip as he smiled. His large hand brushed against hers as he hooked his finger around hers. "I'll hold you to that promise."
