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“A sink full of…” I waved a hand in front of my face. “Dishes that have been sitting there for days if not weeks. A table covered in crumbs and smears of tomato sauce. A bin full of rubbish. What did I say after the last time we had to have the pest inspectors come through?”

“Clean up after ourselves,” he said with a sigh. “Oi, Ken!”

The other man walked over, glad for the distraction, and while Clinton did the dishes and Ken took the rubbish away, I cleaned off the table then gave the floor a sweep.

“Anything special happening today, boss?” Clinton asked with a sly smile. “Or are we just making sure Mouse has somewhere nice to eat at break time?”

“I’m putting on lunch,” I said, the muffled sound of strange voices indicating the food had arrived. “And it looks like it’s here.”

I directed the delivery drivers to the break room, the foil containers letting out a savoury aroma that had both Jamie and Gary looking up as they passed. That vicious sense of satisfaction punched me in the guts, leaving me gasping but happy as everyone clustered around the table.

All I wanted to do was provide for Jamie. She was a damn good mechanic who seemed perfectly capable of looking after herself, but I… I hoped to take some of that burden from her. Feed her good food, massage the knots from her muscles that sometimes had her stretching her neck from side to side. Help her wash the grime of the day off her and then tuck her up in bed.

With me by her side.

I’d hold her in my arms and go to sleep, breathing in the scent of her hair as I heard her sighs grow longer and longer, finally able to relax because she was mine.

So I looked up now as Jamie walked in the door, feeling something fierce and fragile flickering inside my chest. I wanted to thump it then, point to everything I’d bought for her, but I couldn’t.

“So what’s the special occasion?” Gary asked, rubbing his hands together. “The dishes done as well?”

His wife refused to make him lunch every day because she worked full time as well, and he often bemoaned this as he looked at the peanut butter sandwich he’d slapped together that morning.

“Oh, I think we know why.” Clinton flicked the soap suds from his hands, wiping them on a thankfully clean tea towel before propping his arse on the sink. “I, for one, support this new relationship dynamic. Free feeds and the boss losing the resting bitch face.” I cocked an eyebrow and stared him down. “I can get behind that, but Mouse, how about suggesting some Thai food next time? There’s a great little place a couple of suburbs over?—”

“Or that pasta place,” Ken said, his eyes getting wider and wider as he saw the spread. “Some ravioli and spag bol.”

“That garlic bread.” Gary kissed his fingers. “Though a big feed of seafood?—”

“All good suggestions,” Clinton said. “Mouse, we’ll shoot you a selection of menus. If you could subtly slide them the boss’ way, maybe post-coital and ready to promise you anything in the world. I’ll do those really shitty oil changes for you if you can get us seafood.”

The ribbing was all par for the course here. A garage full of blokes would always have a whole lot to say about each other, but that’s when I realised I’d made a fatal mistake. They called Jamie Mouse for a reason. When riled up she’d push back, hard if she needed to. She’d torn strips off Dale when he was trying to make moves on her, the entire garage going quiet as she was clear just how much he’d underestimated her. But as a rule, she kept her head down, hoping to convince everyone she deserved to be here with her competence.

And I’d just made her the centre of attention.

“I…” She felt the need to say something, but I watched her throat work, a small frown forming as she fought her body to get the words out.

“Looks like you’ve rendered her speechless,” Clinton cackled. “Good job, Brock. Now you know what to do if she starts nagging.”

“Clinton…” Gary hissed.

But the damage was done. She backed away, her face too pale, none of the pleasure I hoped to see in her expression. Instead, she just looked freaked out.

“Jamie…”

I’d come on too hard, too fast, and when I took a step forward to admit that, she kept on moving, away from me, not closer. She shook her head, mutely communicating what I already knew.

That I’d fucked up.

Of course, that was the moment Hayden came walking into the garage.

“Jamie?”

She spun around at the sound of her name.

“I need…” She swallowed hard, then looked back, her gaze feeling like a hot electrical wire, branding me. “I need to get out of here. Can you?—?”

Hayden shot me one short look, but it was filled with triumph.