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I lost track of what hewas saying because though he was talking to his grandpa, his grass green eyesnever left mine. “Just make the changes. Fine...tell nana I love her...yes...of course I want cookies. All right...love you too, jerk.”

When he cleared histhroat, I spoke. “I came to offer food.”

His eyes flashed withhumor as a smile lit up his face. “Is that so?” he asked with a certainsparkle.

He moved from hisposition near the toolbox to stand over an engine block that was open. Somehowmy feet moved and I too, was standing over the engine.

Jameson slid a blackplastic glove on his right hand. His eyes moved over my body slowly as thoughhe was memorizing it. I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze feeling exposed.

“I need to get thiscamshaft in.” he said moving closer yet again.

“What’s all this?” Imotioned to the engine. “Why are you doing this?”

“Grandpa needed somehelp this morning.” He perked up at the idea of engine building. “I’minstalling the camshaft. Would you like to watch?”

I felt moisture seepdown my thighs at the thought.

And then he began themost erotic engine slang I had ever heard from him.

“I’ve already installedthe camshaft bearings, prepping them with assembly lube.” Jameson ran his glovedfinger over the opening in the block back and forth provocatively. “Now, youtake the camshaft,” he chuckled deeply, holding the long piece of metal in hishands. To tease me further, he stroked the lobes once and I elbowed him, hiseyes brows raised as he giggled. Yep, he giggled.

“You should do a propercleaning of all the journals and lobes, which I’ve done already. Then youspread lube over the distributor driver gear and all the lobes of the camshaft.It’s messy, so you start with the gear and the first four lobes at the rear ofthe cam.” He whispered, moving closer. “Then you spread some Molly lube on thetwo rear journals and insert the cam in the block slowly until you can leave ithanging on those last two journals. That way, the next four lobes of the camare easily assessable for greasing. Each lobe needs to be fully coated.”

I had to physicallyblock the neurons firing in my head to just lay myself over this goddamn engineand have him coat me in Molly lube, whatever the hell that was.

He stared down at me,the knowing smirk growing. “It’s really messy but if you lube all the journalsfirst and then try to insert, your hands will slip off so it’s best to go alittle at time.”

Just before the cam wasinserted all the way, his eyes found mine. “Would you like to help withinsertion?” he asked raising an eyebrow and then raising his shirt to sweepacross his forehead. Though I took comfort in the fact he was just as workedup, it still wasn’t much consolation.

I drew in a breath thatsounded like a wind tunnel as I stared at the cam.

“I’ll take that as ano.” he chuckled. “When you get to the end, you grab the camshaft with one handand then reach inside the block and feed the rest through.” His hand reachedover the top of the block feeding the camshaft through. I watched intently ashis forearms flexed with the controlled movement.

“If you leave the camplug out, you can ease the last few inches in easier. Then you put the uppergear on,” he bolted the gear on, “and your cam is ready to go, fully lubricatedand spinning smoothly.” His wrist flicked the gear once spinning it.“See, perfect.”

I think he knew he’dgotten me but he was quick to add, “Was it as good for you as it was for me?”

Next thing I knew, we wereknocking over tools, parts and using a sprint car for balance.

“Carsagain?”I let a little giggle slip.

“Hmmm...yes, cars again.” Histeeth did that nipping thing I loved so much.“Sprint cars.I hope you stretched.”

Hotdamn.

“Mmmsprint cars.” I pointed to the floor. “Is that oil on the floor? Don’t slip inthat.”

“I won’t slip in theoil.” His hands moved to my face searching for my lips.

“Be careful, you’re notpaying attention.” I looked around the shop. There were tools, tires, hoses,and oil scattered throughout. “I just don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“I won’t slip in theoil,” his hands once again, forced my attention back to him. “nowyou...payattention.”

“Pay attention? Notpossible, not when you...oh god...do that again...oh my...” Just as I was about to see stars, he was gone. “Hey whathappened? Are you okay down there?”

“I slipped in the oil.”

I started to turnaround to see if he was truly okay but he pressed me hard against the rear tireof his sprint car, my bare ass on cool rubber.