The Ex Files (Ocean View #1)(32)
“Aren’t we supposed to, like, lift the car up with that thingy?” I point to the jack.
“Yeah, eventually. But if it’s lifted and the nuts are tight, it will be harder since the entire tire will rotate.” I nod. That makes sense, I guess. “Squat in front of the tire.” I do as he asks and freeze when his warm body comes up behind me, lining up with my own, warmth from his body leaking into mine despite at least two layers of thick jackets. Although I know it’s nearly impossible, it’s like I can feel the tiny muscles of his chest moving against my own.
Why is this strangely sexy?
It doesn’t get better when his hands run down my arms from my elbows, a slow, gentle stroke that has goosebumps sprouting everywhere before his hands meet mine, moving them to grab the tool correctly and line it up.
“So you use this part to crank the tool and loosen the nut.” His breath is on my neck, his voice low in my ear has chills rushing down my spine, chills that have nothing to do with the winter cold and everything to do with the man behind me. “Good, just like that.” Fuck, his words are going into my mind and jumping, envisioning them in different situations that are so inappropriate, so wrong, I can’t function, can’t move as my hand slips when I try to line up the tool to loosen another nut. “Easy.”
“Sorry.” I’ve had men teach me things while on a date. Cooking classes and wine classes. I’ve had clients take me to football games and hockey games and race tracks. Each explained the steps to me, some acting like I was a moron who couldn’t breathe air without instruction (those were deleted from my system quickly), some annoyed when I messed up (ditto), and others I had a great time with. But as Luke shows me how to loosen the nuts, how and where to place the jack and crank it (he did that part, and holy shit, the whole vision of it made me want to give in to the sex fiend begging me to jump him and the librarian who was begging me to run away), how to remove the nuts and the bolts, how to remove the tire, I'm not just enjoying myself, but also learning.
“We’re not going to use the spare; just put this back on. But I’ll rotate your tires in a few weeks, and we can go through your training again,” I turn back to look at him behind me once again as I tighten the bolts, and he’s smiling at me, pride in his eyes.
“A few weeks?”
“Need to do it every so often. When I replaced your tire, I saw they’d need it soon. Probably when it warms up. You’ll come down to the shop, and I’ll show you around,” he says with ease, as if this isn’t the last time I’m going out with him, the last time I need to meet with him.
“Oh.” When we remove the jack and finish tightening, he shows me how to test the air pressure and ensure it’s good. It’s a well-rounded lesson over all. When we’re done, he grabs the drink and pretzel and hands them to me.
“For you.”
“For me?” I ask as if I didn’t realize this when I pulled in.
“You said you like them.”
“I mean, thank you. I do. That was very… thoughtful of you. To remember.” Something gleams in his eye like a secret he’s keeping. A secret he’s eager to share.
“You can eat it at our next stop.”
“Next stop?”
“My date. Next stop.”
“Oh. That’s not… I can…” I trail off as I stare into his shining eyes and take a sip of my soda.
“My date, my rules.”
“What?” Once more, he laughs. Laugh number one.
“My date has many parts, sweetheart. We’ll take your car, okay?” He walks over to his truck, grabbing some things before slamming the door and beeping the locks as I stand there, confused.
“I’ll drive,” he says as he takes my keys out of my hand, opens the passenger seat, and helps me in. The whole time I’m wondering what the hell I got myself into.
BREAK
The first place we stop is the quiet end of the boardwalk on Ocean Ave, winding along the beachfront.
“What are we—”
“Beach or Lake?” he asks, but it’s less a question, more a statement.
“What?”
“When I asked you, you said beach.” I squint at him, trying to understand. A couple with a stroller walks past, the wheels thumping the boards as a little girl with pigtails runs past. Seagulls caw in the background, though less than you’d see in June or July with the cold January air taking over.
And then I remember.
I’d just asked him who his biggest influence as a kid was (his dad, which was sweet but also predictable and safe), and he asked me…
“Beach or lake?” There’s one of each nearby, the beach and boardwalk on one side of town and a small lake two towns over.
And I’d told him the beach because lakes creep me out with their murky waters and gooey bottoms.
“I’m not going in the water,” I say instantly, thinking of those polar bear plunges they do for charity around this time of year. He throws his head back with a laugh.
“No, sweetheart. We’re going for a walk.” Leaning over, he presses the button on my seatbelt, grabbing my drink and snack before walking around the hood to open my door. “Come on.” I obey, taking his offered hand and walking up the steps to the boardwalk. It’s nice, quiet without the summer crowds.