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Being back on the tools was a relief. I knew this, knew what to do. Even when there was a persistent clunking sound in the engine and it turned out to be none of the usual things, a quick chat with Gary helped me find the solution. Engine knock was usually caused by issues with the fuel/air mixture in older cars, but newer ones were so finely calibrated it was rarely an issue. Occasionally, the sensor that was supposed to keep that from happening was faulty and so it needed to be replaced. When I rang the owner and ran the costs by them, then got the go-ahead, I felt confident, competent. Of course, that meant I had to go upstairs to see if Brock could add it to the current parts order.

“Ooh, sneaking up to see your boyfriend,” Clinton said.

“Grease trap.”

“What the hell is this grease trap thing?” Ken asked. “It shuts this dickhead up better than anything else.”

“Pretty sure Brock has threatened Clinton with cleaning up the grease trap if he doesn’t leave Jamie alone,” Gary told him.

“Oh really…”

“Look, fellas, I was just kidding. Jamie, tell him I was kidding. Jamie?” Clinton spluttered.

I just smiled and kept on walking, right into Brock’s office.

If we were following good workplace safety protocols, this wouldn’t be a sexually charged situation, but… It’d been that way for some time for me. An intimate space, so completely Brock’s, his photos on the wall, the woody scent of his deodorant filling the air. Oh yeah, and him. Those broad shoulders hunched as he worked on the computer, the guy was still a two-finger typist, but he was quick about it. Part of me wanted to slink on over, run a hand across his back, and then sink my fingers into his hair, watching his eyes turn to molten gold when he looked up.

I realised I could do just that.

The soft pelt of his flannel shirt caressed my fingertips, and I felt his muscles tense and then twist as he did just that. His hungry look, though? It far outstripped anything I’d imagined.

“We need?—”

Whatever I was about to say was cut off by him grabbing me by the waist and tugging me down onto his desk faster than I could blink.

“Tell me exactly what you need.”

“A knock sensor for the Toyota I’m working on,” I squeaked out.

“Oh.” He blinked. “So you came up here because of work.”

“I did.” I ran a finger down his chest. “I’m having difficulty remembering that right now.”

“Yeah?” His lips curved as I started to toy with the top button of his shirt. “Well, maybe we need to work on jogging your memory.”

Touching Brock always felt illicit, but here? It added something to it. I could hear the clank of the guys working in the garage, knew I had my own jobs to do, but as I flicked one button open, all that fell away. I slid my hand across his skin, listening to his breath picking up. His entire focus was trained on me, on what I was doing, which was all part of the problem.

“How quickly can you get out of those overalls?” he asked in a low growl.

“What?”

His hand moved forward, cupping my mound.

“You gave me a taste of heaven and I want more, Jamie.”

That’s when I remembered his fantasy, me spread across his desk, screaming in ecstasy as I rode his face, but back then it was safely inside my head and his.

“You don’t mean—?” I started to say.

“Yeah, I do.” He undid one clasp of my overalls, following the way the bib started to sag, his hands claiming surrendered ground.

“But the guys?—”

“You’ll just need to be real fucking quiet,” he said. “You can do that for me, can’t you, Jamie?”

No, I couldn’t. There were no curtains on the office windows, so anyone who walked up the steps would see exactly what we were doing. That didn’t happen often, but I felt a spike of old held fear of being discovered by the guys I worked with. I could almost imagine their judgement, their disapproval, but then Brock leaned in and kissed my neck. More recent memories pushed forward, of pleasure, of the way he’d made me feel. The sharp prickle of his beard in contrast with the soft flicker of his tongue had me shifting against him. Then as I leaned down to kiss him right back, the ring of his phone had us pulling apart.

“Shit…”