Vanity. Pure and simple.
“There’s nothing wrong with my shoes.”
“You just about landed on your ass,” he pointed out.
Not her finest moment, to be sure. “Because you tried to grope me!”
“Grope you?” He raised his eyebrows. “When did I grope you?”
“You touched my forehead.”
“Seems we have different definitions of what grope means. I was checking to see if you had a temperature.”
“What? Why?”
“Maybe because you were just standing there, staring at me, your cheeks flushed and your breath coming in sharp pants. Thought you might have been ill. Now I’m guessing it was . . . a hot flush?” There was heat in his eyes, mixed with amusement.
She folded her arms over her chest. His gaze dropped to the cleavage she’d unwittingly pushed up over the top of her shirt.
“Stop staring at me!”
Oh, like you don’t like the interest in his gaze. Hussy.
His own arms crossed his chest. “Like you weren’t eye-fucking me when I walked up?”
Oh, fuck. She could feel her face flaming hot. “You’re right. I think I have a temperature.”
His face clearly told her he thought she was a liar. He was so right.
Then his gaze flickered over to the raised hood of her car. She wasn’t sure if she was grateful for that or not. Part of her missed that heated, amused gaze roaming over her skin. Her eyes dropped to his huge hands, just imagining him running them all over her. Cupping her breast. Squeezing her ass. Spanking her.
Jesus, Thea. Get it together.
She licked her lips.
“That fever still raging, huh?” he drawled, keeping his gaze on her car.
“Seems to be,” she croaked.
After sending her another heated look, he headed back to his truck. Wait. Where was he going? Was he going to just leave her here?
She knew he was under no obligation to help her. And let’s face it, most of her life people had walked away from her. But still . . . it seemed kind of rude.
Especially when she’d already mentally undressed him several times.
That kind of thing created a bond . . . well, it should have.
You’re an idiot, Thea.
Disappointment flooded her. Not because she thought anything would come from her attraction to him. She was experienced enough to know that sexual chemistry could fizzle and die as quickly as it had begun. Just because someone got her blood pumping didn’t make them good boyfriend material. In her experience it tended to be the opposite.
But instead of going for the driver’s door and taking off, he moved around the back of the truck, opening it. When he returned, he held a small toolbox.
“Do you . . . do you know how to fix my car?” she asked hopefully.
“I’m a mechanic,” he confirmed.
Elation filled her. Quickly followed by worry. What if he expected to be paid for his time? She’d need to offer something. Only she didn’t have any cash, and even though she’d just been paid, she had bills coming out her butt.