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Bending over the engine of the Chevy Silverado, Joleen “Jo” Fuller was in her element. As she worked loose the last nut holding the alternator in place, she felt the usual sense of accomplishment. Even though the task was something she had done dozens of times in the last few years since she bought the garage and mechanic shop from her friend and mentor, Mr. Diaz, it wasn’t boring. Something about the movement was actually comforting. Jo was confident in her skills and at ease working at something she loved. Although she had never imagined that growing up she would be a full-time mechanic, even owning her own garage, she had always liked working with her hands. Working on cars had come naturally to her when she was looking for a part-time job while attending school nearby at Portland State University. Although her degree was in accounting, she wanted something that would take her mind off her classes, and it seemed working as a helper in the garage was exactly that.And look at me now, she thought as the alternator came loose and she gently pulled it free.Not a ledger in sight.Before she could take it to the workbench, she heard someone moving across the concrete floor of the shop’s first bay where she was working.

“So what time are we getting toSapphiretonight?” Jo’s employee and best friend Mica’s voice floated from near the workbench. The woman was supposed to be cleaning and organizing tools, but so far seemed much more interested in their plans for the evening. Jo heard the faint clink of metal on metal as her friend halfheartedly moved the wrenches, though it was clear she would rather be talking strategy. Not that Jo intended to brush her off. There was no secret about what she planned to do on Friday nights.

Standing almost six feet tall, Jo rose from under the truck’s hood with a streak of grease on her cheek that she absently wiped with the back of her hand. Grinning, she looked at Mica. “I was thinking we would just go from here. It’s already close to seven. Is that okay with you?” Carrying the alternator, she walked to the workbench and set it aside before grabbing a nearby rag to clean her hands.

Leaning casually against the workbench and crossing her heavily tattooed arms, a knowing smile played on Mica’s lips. “Another Friday? Another night at the bar?” she asked. “Really? Don’t you ever get tired of the same old routine?”

Jo shot her a look and raised her eyebrow. “Tired of beautiful women, cheap drinks, and the chance to show off my legendary dance moves?” she asked with a mischievous look in her eyes. “Hell no.”

She tossed the rag aside while Mica snorted a laugh. “Legendary, huh?” She shook her head. “More like legendarily awkward. But seriously, don’t you ever think about, I don’t know, settling down? Finding someone special?”

It was Jo’s turn to laugh. “Settle down?” she asked. “Me? Come on, Mica, what are you thinking? You know me better than that.” She turned toward the mirror over the workbench and ran a hand through her short-brown, tousled hair. “Now, why in the hell would I tie myself down when there’s a whole worldof gorgeous women out there waiting to be charmed by yours truly?”

Mica rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah,” she said. “Because you’re such a catch. Tell me, oh great Casanova, what exactly are you offering these poor unsuspecting women?”

With a dramatic flourish, Jo spread her muscular arms wide. “Where do I start?” she asked. “Charm with devastatingly good looks…” She paused, a slight grin spreading across her face. “And let’s not forget my world-famous chocolate chip cookies.”

Shaking her head, Mica chuckled. “Oh yes, the infamous Jo Fuller special,” she said. “Woo them with baked goods, then love ‘em and leave ‘em.”

Jo studied her face in the mirror, her grin softening. “Hey now,” she said. “I never promise anything I can’t deliver. They know the score.”

Pushing off the workbench, Mica moved to Jo’s side and placed a hand on her shoulder. “You might surprise yourself,” she said. “There is more to life than one-night stands.”

Jo looked into her own brown eyes. At thirty-five, slight lines showed at the corners. Mostly from laughter, although not everything in her life was perfect.But one thing that is perfect is my current relationship status, she thought. She looked at her friend. “Maybe for some people,” she said. “But this is who I am, Mica. Maybe a serious relationship is what you want, and I get that, but I’m not built for all that serious stuff.” She turned and grabbed the keys to her motorcycle from the hook by the door. “Now, are we going to stand here psychoanalyzing me all night? Or are we going to lock up and go have some fun?”

Her friend tilted her head and studied Jo for a moment. Then she gave it a shake, clearly knowing when to let it go. “All right, all right. Let me grab my jacket.” She ran her eyes up and down Jo’s body and frowned. “Are you really wearing those grease-stained jeans to the bar?”

Jo glanced down at her tight black T-shirt, dirty jeans, and black motorcycle boots, before looking at Mica. “What? You don’t think the whole mechanic chic thing is sexy?” she asked, and her friend shook her head.

“I really hope you’re kidding.”

“Okay,” Jo said, holding up her hands in surrender. “I’ll swing by the house and take a quick shower. Put on something clean and meet you at the bar in an hour, looking as irresistible as always.”

Standing in the bedroom of her far too expensive yet practical apartment on the Southwest side of Portland, Evelyn Barkley tried to make up her mind. She stood in front of her open closet, phone in her hand, as she surveyed the neatly organized rows of blouses and slacks. Her free hand absently fingered the soft fabric of a navy blazer, her go-to piece for work presentations and conferences.But tonight isn’t about work, she thought.Tonight is... well… She wasn’t quite sure what tonight was about.

“Evie, come on,” her older sister Jasmine’s voice said through the phone’s speaker. Evelyn couldn’t miss the mix of exasperation and encouragement in her tone. “It’s your thirty-first birthday. You can’t spend it curled up on the couch under a blanket with another one of your romance novels.”

Glancing at the phone, Evelyn felt a flush creep up her neck, grateful her sister couldn’t see her face. “I wasn’t planning on—” she started, but Jasmine cut her off with a laugh.

“Please. I know you better than that,” she said. “Let me guess, you’ve gotPassionate Nights Under the Starsor something equally steamy hidden under your pillow right now.”

Evelyn’s eyes darted guiltily to her bedside table, where the corner of a colorful paperback peeked out from beneath hertablet. “It’s calledMoonlit Desires, actually,” she mumbled, then immediately regretted it at Jasmine’s hearty laugh.

“I knew it. All the more reason you need to get out and live a little,” her sister said. “Reading about passion is one thing, but experiencing it? That’s something else entirely.”

Sighing, Evelyn pulled out a sensible off-white button-down blouse and held it up to herself in the mirror. “I appreciate the thought, but a queer bar? NamedSapphireof all things,” she said. “I don’t know. It’s not really my scene.”

There was a pause on the phone, making Evelyn glance at it again to see if her sister was still there. “And how would you know?” Jasmine finally asked. “Have you ever been to one?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Exactly. Look, Evie, I know you’re nervous,” Jasmine said. “But you’ve been questioning things for a while now, right? This is your chance to explore that side of yourself in a safe, accepting environment.”

Evelyn bit her lip. What Jasmine said was true. She had been wondering about her attraction to women. Not all women necessarily, but ones she saw who were a little more masculine.Butch,she thought.That’s the word Jasmine would use.She sighed.Maybe it’s true.Her sister’s words stirred up the doubts and curiosities she had been trying to ignore for months. If she was going to figure it out one way or the other, tonight seemed as good a night as any. Slowly, she put the off-white blouse back and considered her wardrobe again. There was something sexier there, something she had never worn, but she hesitated. She pulled a blue, V-neck silk top from the back. “But what if I make a fool of myself?” she whispered as much to herself as to her sister.

She heard Jasmine sigh. “Oh, Evie,” she said, her tone softer. “Everyone feels like that when they go somewhere new.Someplace different. But I’ll be there with you, and so will Sophie and Brooke. We’ve got your back.”