I reluctantly got out of the car. I seriously didn’t want my daughter walking around a biker hangout; I wanted to only slightly less. But I needed my hot guy fix. And by the looks of it, I needed my car fixed in order for that to happen. What were the odds of seeing Zane here anyway? I doubted he would trouble himself fixing cars; he was most likely stealing nuclear launch codes or something.
“Can I help you, darlin’?” a man in coveralls asked me as I approached the garage.
I swallowed as I took him in. Maybe I didn’t need Dom after all; this guy rivaled even Vin Diesel on the hotness scale. He was Hispanic, tall and muscled. His shaven head accentuated his chiseled jaw and sharp cheekbones. A day’s stubble darkened that sharp jaw, while his tattoos peeking out from the collar of his shirt hinted at danger. In fact, it wasn’t his tattoos that spoke danger. It was him. I would have been slightly scared if it wasn’t for the easy smile he directed at me, and the soft look in his eyes. I knew what really dangerous men looked like when they smiled at you. What hid behind those smiles. This guy didn’t have it. I smiled back at him.
“I hope so. My car just kind of died right here in your parking lot. If you could bring her back to life in time for me to catch a seriously good movie, I’d be eternally grateful,” I told him with all seriousness, keeping my smile.
He grinned back and I didn’t miss the way his green eyes swept up my body. I felt myself tingle. This guy was at least five years younger than me, and one muscle away from being a sex god. I couldn’t help but feel flattered at the manly appreciation in his gaze.
“I’d be glad to help in any way I can, sweetheart, especially for eternal gratification,” he flirted.
I was glad I took time on today’s outfit. I was wearing tight, distressed jeans that hugged my legs in the perfect way. That was thanks to the fact they were years old and had practically been molded to my body. I also wore strappy wedges, which did wonders for my legs and my height, since I was only five foot six. My flouncy ruffled top had little flowers all over it and cinched in at my waist, showing a modest amount of cleavage. My makeup was natural and I had swept my blonde curls into a messy side braid. Not exactly biker chic, but I wouldn’t be scaring children on the street.
“Thanks…” I glanced down at the nametag on his coveralls. “…Lucky,” I added.
He tipped an imaginary hat. “My pleasure, darlin’. That it over there?” He pointed to my bright red VW beetle, which currently had a young hot guy lounging against it. I frowned. “Yes, it is,” I muttered.
My mind quickly switched from ”check out hot younger guy” to momma bear mode.
“Let’s go check her out,” Lucky said, wiping his hands on a rag and walking toward my car.
I momentarily moved my thoughts of maim and possibly murder. My eyes cut to the attractive Lucky sauntering over to my car.
“What?” I shot at him dangerously.
He looked over his shoulder at me. “Your car? I’ll probably need to get a look at her if I can have any hope of fixing her in time for you to make it to your movie,” he told me on a grin.
I exhaled slightly and caught up with him. “Well, anything that you can do to make sure I don’t miss the previews is an act which will make me look upon you as a godlike being for the rest of my life,” I told him seriously. I kept my eye on the dark-haired kid leaning onto the passenger side of my car, but focused on maintaining some form of conversation with Lucky. He probably already thought I was weird. On the plus side, I hadn’t seen Zane yet. Always a silver lining.
Lucky looked at me sideways, a hint of a smile tickling the edge of his attractive mouth. “The previews?” he questioned.
“Yeah, they’re like our favorite part. It’s integral to the entire movie-going experience. Watching a movie without the previews would be akin to not having cheese on a pizza. It simply isn’t done,” I informed him sagely.
Lucky didn’t have a hint of a grin anymore; he was flat out smiling, and giving me a look that made me wish I was about five years younger. Or more of a cougar. Maybe I could turn into a cougar.
My cougar thoughts were quickly shattered as we reached my car and the man-boy who had been chatting to my little girl straightened. I rectified my earlier man-boy thought; this was just a straight up man. Yes, he was most likely still a teenager, but there was no pimples or gangly legs to be seen. He was tall, taller than most fully grown men, with a shadow on his jaw which made him seem older. His jet black hair was messy and in need of a cut, but it just added to the bad boy vibe he had going. Wearing a leather vest, a black tee and black jeans, he screamed mother’s worst nightmare.
I narrowed my eyes at him. I’m not normally one to judge, but he was talking to my little girl. And a kid like that did not ”just talk” to a kid as pretty as Lexie. He’d probably impregnate her by giving her a smoldering look, which I’m sure he had down pat.
“Shouldn’t you be polishing hub cabs or sweeping out the garage, kid?” Lucky shot at the dangerously attractive youth whom I was feeling slightly murderous thoughts toward. I couldn’t help it. I was a protective momma bear.
He looked up lazily and didn’t seem to be worried at the hint of the warning in Lucky’s tone. Brave kid.
“Smoke break,” was all he said, holding up a nearly finished cigarette.