Jackson Stiles, Road to Redemption (Road to Redemption #1)(69)

I’m sure I can figure it out. I mean, I didn’t ace high school and maybe one-fifth of the academy for nothing.

Forty-five minutes later, though, I’m still fighting with the f*cking thing. Mainly because, in addition to being smart, I’m a stubborn ass. Or so I’m told. Plus I have the wrong tools.

At least it’s not rush hour.

My hand slips on the wrench when I go to tighten some of the spark plugs.

“Ow. Ffffff*ck!”

“What’s up, Stiles? Got a leak in your vocabulary?”

I lift my head a little too quickly when I hear the familiar voice and clunk my head on the hood of the car.

That shit hurts.

“Funny, Green.” The pain rushes from my thumb all the way to my f*cking head, and there’s absolutely no way to hide that fact.

I rub it out. “What brings you to this side of the tracks?”

“Touché.” She laughs. “You all right?”

“I will be.” The ache subsides the more I shake it out. “But, seriously. What are you doing here?”

“I said I’d check in later, right?” She looks down at the engine. “I was on my way to your place when I saw you on the side of the road arguing with your car. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing you can help me with this time.”

“Oh, really.” She shoves me out of the way as she leans over where I was just standing.

“What happened?”

I cross my arms and ignore the tight fitting pants that show off her ass. “She died. That’s what happened.”

“Any specific noises when it happened?”

Is she serious right now?

“Noooo.”

She heaves out a heavy sigh and reaches farther into the workings of my car.

“Your alternator might have died,” she announces. “Depending on the car, some won't even click when the battery is dead but will have enough juice to power the accessories. Hand me your wrench.”

She blindly puts a hand out toward me.

I place it in her hand because, hell, what the f*ck else am I gonna do? I’m also slightly turned on. Not gonna lie.

“What are you─”

“Just wanna try something before we charge the battery. It might not be necessary, but if it is…” She grunts as she twists something. I lean over her shoulder to see what the f*ck she’s doing in there.

“We might also want to try jumping your starter. Sometimes with newer ones, there’s a really small wire that comes off the starter, but on these older models…” She finds something with a loud, “Aha!” then wriggles her way to the back of the engine. The way her hips are moving against my, uh, engine reminds me of how she felt against me last night on the couch.

“We could bridge that and your power stud on the starter if we had to. If the car starts, then it’s probably a wiring issue in your ignition. Try her now.”

I slide into the front seat and give the key a turn.

And hell if the damn car doesn’t start right the f*ck up.

Green stands there, wiping her hands and smiling wide.

Me?

I’m blown away right now. And kinda really f*cking digging this woman even more so than before she fixed my piece of shit vehicle.

I climb back out and ask her, “What the f*ck did you just do?”

She hands me the wrench back and pushes some hair out of her face. When she does it, oil smears across her cheek. It makes her look like she’s getting ready for football season.

I imagine her running at me with that smug-ass look on her face, tackling the shit out of me right now.

And I kind of f*cking like that idea.

She’s still, though, when I reach out to wipe the smudge off, and I don’t take my hand away at first. Not until a car blows by us and honks like an idiot.

Mood ruined.

Ass.

“Nothing you could have helped me with.” She still manages to hold onto the smugness when she lets the moment pass. I let her have it. She earned that shit.

I point at the hood after she closes it. “That was-”

“Impressive?” She smirks.

“Surprising. Thanks.”

Green smiles full on. “That’s the second time you’ve thanked me in as many days, Stiles. Might wanna watch it there.”

She’s right.

I’m forming bad habits.

I blame Lana.

I like the way Green blows off the compliment I just gave her but is definitely sporting some red in her cheeks, all of a sudden. Something else I note that I’m kinda f*cking fond of.

“It could have been as simple as you being out of gas. But something tells me you’re a little more observant than that.” She wipes her black pantsuit down and stomps her heels against the pavement to get the dirt off of them. She’s completely contradictory—the way she can be so put together but underneath it all she’s a jumble of babbling nerves.

“Wanna grab some late breakfast slash early lunch?” I’ve got a lot to catch her up on. Plus, I’m f*cking hungry—a detail I hadn’t noticed until I was standing here with nothing to do but watch Green work on the Chevelle like a pro.

Okay, maybe I wouldn’t mind spending a little more time with the crazy, confusing, and, most of all, tempting Miss Green.