Protecting What's Mine(76)

“Awesome.” He hugged her to him hard. “Be safe, Dreamy. I’m just getting to know you.”

Her heart began a tumble dry setting in her chest.

“He wasn’t a threat,” she insisted. “Sunshine liked him. And if anything, he’s just warning me about the rest of his family.”

Linc made a grumble noise that said he wasn’t inclined to agree.

“I patched up an abscess for him, and I’m taking my car to his garage for an oil change. And I’m not stupid, Linc.”

“No, you’re not,” he said, tilting her chin up. “Still scared me.”

“I’m sorry for scaring you. Thank you for not using the lights and sirens.”

“I’m sorry for possibly coming close to maybe almost overreacting.”





35





“Linc?” Mackenzie O’Neil calling his name had rapidly become one of his favorite things on this earth.

“In the garage,” he yelled over the music.

They’d taken to letting themselves in and out of each other’s houses via the back door.

“What. Is. This?” she asked, stopping in the doorway.

He patted the gleaming red fender with the rag. “This is Betsy.” Betsy was an antique engine with an open-air cab and a wooden ladder. All lovingly restored with his own two hands. He’d bought her on eBay from a private seller in New York and had road-tripped with Brody to bring her home.

The restoration had taken him five years in bits and pieces and obsessive part hunting. But there was something about bringing a piece of history back to life that appealed to him. Of honoring where he came from.

“I can’t believe you have a firetruck in your garage.”

“I can’t believe you’ve never been in my garage. You should do a better job snooping on me now that we’re having sex.”

“I’ve been through your nightstand, your medicine cabinet, and the magazines you keep in the bathroom. By the way, Popular Science, Hotshot?”

“Garages are where guys always hide the good stuff,” he said, standing and laying a playful kiss on her.

“Have you been in mine?” she asked, still eyeing Betsy.

He snorted. “Dreamy, I’m a guy. I’ve been in your garage to check for fire hazards, your basement to look for bugs, rodents, and bad guys. I even stuck my head in the attic crawlspace.”

“What were you looking for up there?”

“Dead bodies,” he deadpanned. “Almost got my ass stuck in that tiny guest closet.”

She laughed. She’d been doing more of that lately. It was all part of his diabolical plan to keep her here permanently.

“Well, speaking of garages. I was wondering if you had time to help me with something?” she said.

Asking for help with anything was a monumental task for Dreamy.

He wiped his hands on the rag and threw it on the workbench. “Name it, and it’s yours.”

“First, I need you to not freak out and go all Manly Man on me.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, putting his hands on his hips.

“I need you to help me drop off my SUV at Shorty’s Garage for an oil change.”

“Uh-huh,” he said again. Counting backward from ten.

She was watching him closely. “You’re not happy,” she observed.

“I’m not,” he agreed evenly. “But I am choosing to trust your judgment.”

She beamed up at him and made him feel like a hero.

“Thank you, Chief Sexy Pants.”

“Let me get Betsy out of the garage, and I’ll be ready to go.”

“You’re driving that?” she asked, green eyes wide.

“Don’t talk about Betsy that way,” he said, finding his discarded sweatshirt and pulling it on over his head.

“What I meant to say is Betsy road legal?”

He patted her vintage license plate. “She sure is. I usually fill her up with kids for the Fourth of July parade. She loves the attention.”

“You’re a heck of a guy, Lincoln Reed.”

He followed her to the garage and waited while she dropped her keys in the overnight box. When she climbed in next to him, Sunshine firmly between them, he handed her a sweatshirt and cranked the heat.

“It’s not that long of a ride home,” she insisted.

“I’m taking my favorite girls for a leisurely drive. You got a problem with that, Dreamy?”

She grinned and ducked into the oversized BFD sweatshirt. “Nope. I’ve got time.”





The next day Linc carved out some time of his own. He wasn’t “overstepping boundaries.” He was doing his girlfriend a thoughtful favor by picking up her SUV for her. If he happened to have words with one of the mechanics at the garage, well, then so be it.

“Thanks for giving me a ride,” he told Kelly as she swung into the garage’s parking lot. It looked like it was a busy day for Shorty and his crew. Vehicles were on lifts inside open garage bays, more were stacked in the parking lot waiting for their tire rotations, oil changes, and noise checks.

“Happy to make sure you don’t get arrested,” she said, parking and unclasping her seat belt.

“You don’t have to come in with me,” he argued.