Page 26 of Crash & Burn
He doesn’t seem to see me, but he must have heard me.
“You’re late,” he says, still looking down. The vein in his arm flexes as he tightens the cap to something. He slams the hood of the car down, then takes up a rag and wipes his forehead with it.
“Excuse me?” I manage to finally respond as I swallow down the lust building in my throat as I watch dirty, sweaty Callan work on the car. “I was on time. You’re the one who couldn’t be found.”
“I texted you earlier and told you I’d be back here.” He finally makes eye contact with me as he wipes the sweat from the back of his neck. I'm grateful to have a reason to take my eyes off him and reach inside my purse to pull out my phone. Sure enough, an unread text from him was delivered over an hour ago.
“That’s the second time you’ve ignored my text,” he mentions. I know he’s talking about the one he sent last night. The one that I read but didn’t know how to respond.Is he mad?
“Sorry, I didn’t know I was required to respond to work related messages off the clock.” I attempt to joke, trying to make it obvious with a little laugh, but he doesn’t think it’s funny.
“Sterling, you don’t have to be clocked in to have a conversation with your boss. Besides, if you really want to get paid to talk to me, just let me know. I have no problem clocking you in where there’s work concerned.” Callan walks around the car and checks something by the tires.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” I try to defuse the tension from my stupid joke. “Was there something important you needed to talk about last night?”
“Not really, just to ask you to dinner,” he says nonchalantly, and my stomach does a little flip. “My parents want to meet you,” he adds.
“Wh-why would they want to do that?” I mutter. My words come out sloppy and confused, my heart hammering in my chest.
“Because you’re basically helping run a company that they poured their hearts and souls into.”Duh, it’s a business dinner, Sterling. Not a personal one. Get a grip.
“Oh.” I’m not sure how to respond. I can’t even stand to be in a room with this man for more than ten minutes without being assaulted by nervousness, I can’t possibly last in closer proximity with himandhis family.
Running the company?I think to myself.
“Relax, you’re not going,” he insists as if he’s allowed to make decisions for me. But in this case, I don’t mind.
I take a second to try and reset my overtly reddening face.
“Do me a favor?” he asks, and I raise a brow at him. Anything. I’d do anything he asks, especially while he’s shirtless.Geez, Sterling. Stop trying to be a slut for your boss.
“Can you start the car for me?” He walks back around to the front and pops the hood again. “I need to make sure everything is running properly.”
“I didn’t know you knew how to work on cars,” I say as I walk toward him. Even with all the sweat and grease, he still manages to smell like a rainforest drenched in scotch.
“You really think I’d own a dealership and not know how to tend to my inventory?” His tone is sarcastic but deep. “I started working on cars when I was twelve,” he adds.
The image of a younger Callan pops into my head. Cute and curious as he stands at the front of a car, learning and asking questions.
“Sorry,” I say as sassy as I can, enunciating each syllable. The car he’s working on seems a bit older, but it’s gleaming with a glossy, bright purple paint job and two black stripes fall down the middle of the hood.
“What kind of car is this anyway?” I approach the door, but Callan beats me to it, opening the door for me. The gesture makes my chest ache.
“It’s a ’69 Mustang Boss 429,” he states. As I climb into the driver’s seat, I sense that he can tell I have no idea what he’s talking about. He lifts the hood back up and leans around to meet my eyes.
“Turn the key, will you?” He motions me to start the ignition, and I nervously turn the key. He watches over the engine and the whole car lights up with a loud and deep growl. The vibrations fall all over the car, and I can feel every rumble of the engine deep in my core.
I’ve never understood the fascination with cars, until now. All I did was turn a key and suddenly, excitement is running through my entire body.
A smile falls on his lips as he watches me from the front of the car over the hood, he can probably see my amusement. He slams the hood again and motions me to kill the ignition.
I pull myself out of the car and close the door. “That felt kind of cool,” I awkwardly admit. But really, I feel all kinds of turned on. The rumble of the car, the shirtless man who stands in front of me, the heat from the shop.I need to get the hell out of here.
“You’re cute,” he says almost as quiet as a feather floating down to the ground, as his eyes are focused on cleaning up the tools he was using, and I stop dead in my tracks to try and hear his words again.What did he just say?
“So, umm, are you going to actually train me today?” I tease.
He pulls his now-wrinkled white shirt from his back pocket and throws it on. “Oh, I’ll train you, Miss Cooper. Patience.” He looks up at me through hooded eyes as he weaves each button through their corresponding hole.