Page 2 of Falling for the Mechanic

Cameron

She’s switched my radio station to something that’s the opposite of what I normally listen to—rock. Now, pop hits are blasting in my cab, twice as loud as I usually listen to. But that’s not all. With the new music comes a smell that’s completely new to my truck.

The scent of hazelnut radiates off her like she just finished drinking a cup of coffee. Without thinking about it, I’m breathing in deep to fill my lungs with the scent. Just like the drink itself, I feel buzzed.

I don’t like it.

She doesn’t bother sparing me a glance when I join her. Doesn’t ask how long the drive is going to be despite seemingly being on a schedule. Instead, she purses her pink lips and glares out the window.

Nash might be onto something here. I may be the reason behind our lack of customers lately.

Doesn’t help that I’m not a fan of being ignored. Even if the one refusing to listen to me is a beauty. One that’s not from here. One that has no reason to stick around.

Twisting the volume down, silence surrounds us. Lifting my gaze to my rearview mirror to make sure I’m good to pull onto the road, a growl slips past my lips when I see it’s tilted up toward the ceiling of the cab.

God damn it. Frustrating. This woman is going to be a pain the whole way, isn’t she?

Yanking it back into place, I don’t dare call her out for it. Feels like I’d be playing right into her hands by making a deal out of it.

Noticing her curled up in the seat, my fingers curl around the steering wheel. “Seatbelt.”

She doesn’t move, not at first. When she does, it’s only to narrow her eyes at me. With a jerky motion that leads to her cheeks turning flushed, she fights with it before clicking it in place.

I want to laugh, but not because I find this situation funny in the slightest.

This woman is a mess. A walking disaster in an oversized sweater and leggings that cling to her thighs.

I hate that I let my eyes linger for even a few seconds when she wasn’t looking.

Feeling another sigh coming on, I inhale deep and immediately regret it. What is it, perfume? Lotion?

Alina would wear all different kinds of stuff all the time and give me headaches. This woman has me breathing in deeper.

Fighting the urge to roll down a window before I let the sweetness engulf my thoughts and turn them reckless, I press the gas petal down with more force than necessary.

Anything to get to the heart of the town as soon as possible.

She’s getting antsy in the cab, fidgeting just minutes into the drive. I’m slightly amused, tempted to put her out of her misery. The memory of her earlier glare is still fresh, and I’m actually enjoying the silence a bit more.

When we reach the shop, she’s looking less bothered by me, and more by something else.

Is she worried about being late again?

She jumps out before I can shut off the truck, her dark hair fluttering against her back as she takes in the scene with a look of surprise. By the time I join her, she’s tilting her head to the side.

“There’s a bakery now?” She points her finger toward Bake Me Happy , confused.

So, it seems she’s been here before. Must not have been for a minute, though.

“Opened not too long ago.” Pulling out my phone, I start marking down the cost of this trip and the future costs of replacing her back tires.

While she gets her oohs and ahhs out of the way, my brows bunch together.

Focusing on my phone, I push past her curiosities and show her the screen so she can see the estimate.

She doesn’t flinch at the numbers I give her, she just offers her card up like money isn’t a problem. I wish I could say the same. I stare at her name printed on the plastic.

Chelsea Dawson.

“Related to Elaine?” The question leaves me without thinking, but I don’t really care. Not until I notice the way she grimaces.

She’s a regular at Willow Perk, and my uncle is a fan of dragging to get their caramel apple muffins three times a week. The older woman likes pulling Nash for chats, and I’m forced to listen or sit out in the cold until he’s done.

Through the conversations I’ve been forced to listen to, I don’t remember her mentioning a daughter. Now that I’m staring at her, I can see the similarities.

Chelsea nods despite her ill expression. Confirming my suspicions, she admits being her daughter before taking her card back.

I won’t ask her how long she’ll be in town. Hell, she can’t exactly leave until I replace her tires. Though I can’t hold her vehicle hostage and pretend the fix will take an eternity.

Returning to her car, she pulls out a suitcase and stares at her phone. Tapping the screen a few times, I catch the first hint of a smile on her face as she looks rather relieved.

“To think a place like this has transportation.” She sighs and tilts her head back, looking up toward the sky like she’s thanking the clouds. Then, she sets her gaze on me. “Is there any way I can linger until I can get a ride?”

I want to tell her that we don’t offer comfort around here. Instead, I’m thinking about the way the cool temperature easily went right through her, leaving her shivering on the road.

Jerking my chin toward the desktop in the corner of the garage, there’s a chair tucked in front of it. “There’s fine, but don’t touch anything. Seriously.”

My uncle will ring my neck if he finds out I let a customer hang out in the garage, where they could accidentally get hurt.

Who am I kidding? Nash would give me a fucking gold star for showing compassion.

I huff under my breath just thinking about it. As irritating as the thought is, the anger melts away when a bigger smile forms on her lips.

She’s got two dimples, her freckles surrounding the small dips in her cheeks.

“Even though you’re definitely rough around the edges…” She drags her luggage past me, heading toward the computer. “I really appreciate it, Cameron.”

Haven’t told her my name, but I don’t need to. My shirt has it sewn right in.

The way it curls on her tongue is dangerous. No, it’s fucking lethal.

Moving toward the radio, I turn it back on to drown out the echo of her voice playing on repeat in my head.

I don’t know what in the hell is happening, but I don’t like it. Not one bit.

Thankfully, Chelsea doesn’t test my patience by touching Nash’s belongings. Instead, I hear the creak of the chair as she digs a hole into my back with her eyes.

Never had an audience working on a car. Not unless my sister decides to stop by for a visit. Ever since Alina got married off, she’s spent less time with me and has hung out more with my buddy from high school up on the mountain.

I enjoyed Alina’s company. Right now, I don’t know what I’m feeling. Should be agitation or annoyance. I’m not sure it’s either.

“You’re the only one here?” Calling out to me, she disrupts my thoughts.

“Can’t afford anyone else until winter hits.” Once everyone needs maintenance to fight off icy roads, business will have to be booming. It has to. Can’t afford to let this business fold. Not after how much effort we’ve put in since Dad passed.

The thought leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, and my scowl is back.

Squeaks continue filling the room, hardly drowned out by my favorite band.

“You’re the only autoshop in town.” Stating the obvious words, she hums. “Should I check out your reviews online?”

Okay. Yeah, maybe she does agitate me a bit.

I don’t respond, but I don’t need to. She’s already doing it, scoffing under her breath.

“You’ve been mentioned in here a few times, you know?” She proceeds to tell me the same things Nash has scolded me for.

I’m unwelcoming. I’m an asshole. I lack empathy.

I get it.

When the hell is this ride coming for her?

“Do you enjoy your job?”

Her next question throws me off, and I’m left staring into the engine bay like it’ll have the answer to her question. All I see are the same parts and pieces I stare at every single day.

When I grunt, she sighs.

“Your communication skills aren’t the best.” I don’t know when she’s done it, but she’s approached me. Not even the wheels of her luggage give her away. “And you do come off pretty scary.”

Frowning, I don’t look at her. My lack of dispute only fuels her claim.

Can’t help that I don’t like talking to people. I’d rather be behind the scenes, tucked away inside here, and simply working on vehicles.

Life can’t be that simple. Instead, it continues to throw complex things my way.

A struggling business. A beautiful woman who doesn’t bother holding back her opinion. What’s next?

“My ride is here. Thanks for everything, seriously.” She pauses, looking like she’s debating on saying more. Personally, I think she’s said enough. “I’ll be waiting for your call.”

And with that, I’m left watching her leave. Once I’m alone again, back in my definition of paradise, my muscles are finally relaxing.

She’s got in my head now, picking at my problems like they’re easy to fix.

I can smile, but that doesn’t make me nice. I can pretend to understand a customer’s problems, but they act like they know the end of the world.

She thinks I’m scary. How in the hell do I fix that?

Picking up my socket wrench, my brows furrow together at the thought.

Do I really scare people? Do I really scare her ?

Fuck.