Tempting Sydney (2 page)

She lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug as she pushed her food away. She’d hardly eaten any of it—typical. “He has free food and beer. Plus, he’s a great singer when he gets drunk enough.”

I nodded in concession. He really was a good singer, and if I was being honest, he wasn’t a bad guy. I just despised frat boys in general…which was a problem since Brynn spent so much time with so many of them. Brynn’s phone vibrated and she glanced at the screen. “I have a meeting to go to, but I’ll see you at the house later?”

“Sure.”

The phone vibrated again. She grinned as she read the text and quickly replied, her fingers flying over the screen.

I eyed her skeptically. “You’re not going to a meeting. You’re going to hook up with someone.”

She flashed a sly smile as she slid her phone into her back pocket and stood. “Well, it
could
be considered a research meeting. I do have a Master’s thesis idea I need to gather information for. I’ll have to start carrying a notebook, and make a chart.”

I shook my head, a little jealous of her spontaneity, and wishing I was a bit more fun as opposed to focused. “Let’s hope you find more than a cocktail weenie, then.”

She gave me an evil smile and lifted her hand with her index and middle finger crossed as she walked away. I took a sip of coffee, thinking about the current state of my non-social life, and then pushed it to the back of my mind so I could review my notes one more time.

White smoke billowed out from under the hood of my car. I glanced at the temperature gauge; it had passed the danger zone about five notches ago. Great. Overheated…again. I pulled over to the side of the road as it sputtered to a stop. Ugh. I loved She-Ra, my cobalt blue classic Camaro, but it wasn’t the most reliable car in the world. At least I could identify everything under the hood, unlike the newer, boring cars my friends drove. Then again, their cars started—and ran continually. Point to them. But mine was sexier. Point to me.

I put my hazard lights on and got out of the car. As I lifted the hood, a sweet, familiar smell hit me. Anti-freeze was sprayed across the entire engine compartment like a neon green version of stars. I could probably find the Big Dipper in the dripping dots. I blew out a long sigh followed by a string of curses. Usually, I could just wait for the car to cool down and add some distilled water or anti-freeze to the radiator. Judging by this particular liquid explosion, I was going to need more help than what I could get from my emergency car kit in the trunk. I grabbed my phone and hit the button for Red’s Garage. Red was number three on my speed dial, behind my parents and Brynn. Red and I had become good friends since I moved to Winchester, Colorado, for college. I was in constant need of a tow truck and mechanic.

“Howdy, Syd. What’s wrong?”

I wondered how many emergency calls it took to make it into your mechanic’s phone contacts. I’d been there a while. “Don’t you ever think I’m just calling to chat?”

“Yeah. About what’s wrong with your car. You should’ve bought a Ford. Then you wouldn’t have these problems.”

I sighed. “I’m sure I’d have this problem with any car as old as you…or my dad. I’m on Fifth West and Second South. Something’s wrong with my radiator and it’s spewing anti-freeze like the girl in
The Exorcist
. Can you come help me?”

I heard something crash in the background on Red’s end. “Yeah.” He paused. “I’ll send the flatbed tow truck just in case.”

“Thanks!”

I wasn’t far from town, so by the time I finished texting Brynn to tell her I’d probably be late for the party at Collin’s tonight, a bright red truck with a long flatbed had pulled in front of me. Flatbed towing is better for She-Ra, so I always insisted on it, but Red would have done it anyway. He loved She-Ra almost as much as I did. I’d been sitting on her trunk—only because my jeans didn’t have any buttons on the back that could scratch the car—but stood when the truck came to a stop. I shoved my phone in my back pocket and waited for Red to get out and save my paint job from the anti-freeze assassin. Red was a handy guy to have around.

The light from the setting sun glared off the truck door as it opened. The person was in shadow, but his outline showed a large, tall, imposing frame. Wide shoulders, narrow waist, full head of hair. I thinned my eyes. Since Red was just a little above hobbit size and balding, I figured this must be one of his employees, and not one I recognized by silhouette. I lifted my hand to block the light and try to get a better view. It didn’t help. He kept walking toward me and was five feet away before I realized who it was.

Confident, gorgeous blue eyes held mine. It was
the
guy. And he was standing in front of me…about to work on my engine. I had a momentary hot flash and took a deep, steadying breath to try to calm down.

“Hey,” I said, shoving my hands in my front pockets. There was no telling what my hands would do if I gave them freedom—but I was sure it would be mighty embarrassing, and perhaps illegal.

His eyes raked over me, dark and with purpose. I felt like I was being undressed with each shift of his gaze. “Hey,” he said back, his voice deep and smooth. Shit. Even his voice seeped testosterone. Why couldn’t he have sounded like a chipmunk?

After what felt like a thorough inventory of my assets, his gaze slowly made its way up my body to meet my eyes. I felt like I’d been measured—and was suddenly completely self-conscious about my clothing choice: low-rise jeans, a rose pink sequined tank that complimented my cleavage, fair skin, and blonde hair, and a beige moto jacket. I’d been pretty happy with the ensemble when I’d left the house, but wasn’t sure how I felt about it now. I wished I was one of those confident girls who could grab a guy’s attention with a smile and keep it for as long as I wanted. But I wasn’t Brynn, and there was no point in pretending I was. Mindless flirting with guys I couldn’t care less about was one thing—that sort of flirting I could do. But this guy was hot. Like, break-the-rules-and-to-hell-with-my-goals hot. This guy was in a whole different ballpark, and I was completely out of my league.

He’d practically had eye-sex with me at the Soup and Spoon, but I didn’t want to make it obvious that I remembered who he was. Though, really, who wouldn’t remember him? He could star in an ad for muscles. So, I went with something utterly stupid instead. “You’re not Red.”

One eyebrow went up like he was contemplating my lack of IQ. “Nope.”

I nodded, feeling like an idiot for beginning the conversation that way. At least I hadn’t started with an ode to his eyes and bicep circumference—because that had been on the tip of my tongue. I decided to try again. “I think I saw you the other day at lunch. Do you go to college at Easton?” There, that was good. An acknowledgment that I recognized him, but not an affirmation that I’d thought about him in seriously inappropriate ways that required me dipping into my secret naughty box on several occasions since I’d ogled him earlier this week.

He eyed me again. “Nope.”

“Then you live in Winchester?”

“Yep.”

And he wasn’t talkative. So we’d established that.

He stood back and looked at the curvy lines of my car, almost the same way he’d looked at me. I took that as a good sign, since my car was pretty damn hot. “She’s gorgeous.”

“Thanks.”

“A ‘69?”

I was impressed he identified the year with a glance. Though cars were his job, so I shouldn’t be. Maybe my impression of his probable chest measurement was seeping into my impressions of him in general. “Yeah. And she exploded.”

I explained what had happened, and he followed me to the front of the car. He put his tools down on the gravel next to the road and started checking the radiator.

“Any idea what’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer for a minute. “A few.”

He was a man of little words.

We were quiet for what seemed like eons. I felt awkward just standing there, watching him inspect my car in silence. I’m not good with awkward—I tend to just make things more awkward. But I couldn’t stand the no-speech zone any longer. “Have you lived in Winchester long?”

Again, he waited more than a minute to answer. “A few weeks.”

“I’m surprised I haven’t seen you before.” I would have remembered. Those eyes. Those arms. It was suddenly much warmer than it had been a few minutes ago.

“Because you’re an expert on all the men in town?” My cheeks flamed and I was about to respond when he said, “I just started working at Red’s, so it’s not really that surprising.”

Okay. So we weren’t friends, and there was a good chance he thought I was an absolute idiot. Or maybe he just wasn’t interested in talking. In any case, I already felt dumb enough, and I had no further interest in talking to a man who didn’t want to talk to me, regardless of his criminally low levels of body fat, or tight jeans and shirt that fit him like a second skin. He worked in silence, and I watched in silence. It was even more awkward than before. He seemed totally fine with that.

I felt deflated. Why wasn’t he talking to me? Or even attempting to flirt? We’d flirted during our eye-sex encounter, so what was his problem now? He’d barely said a word, which made him so difficult to read that I couldn’t tell what his issue was. But his issue was giving me issues, and I didn’t like it. I toed some gravel on the ground, wishing I could speed up time and get this service call over with.

“Why isn’t your boyfriend helping you with this?”

I started at his voice, surprised he was instigating a conversation. I was even more surprised he was instigating a conversation that was fishing for information about the state of my relationship status. Since it seemed he’d already put me in the epic loser category, I decided not to give the Superman body double any other ammunition. Instead, I lifted a shoulder, non-committal—which was how I felt about my dating life—and pretended I was actually in a relationship, “The guys I date don’t usually do cars.”

He placed his hands on the front of She-Ra and looked at me sideways, one corner of his lips lifting. “What
do
they do?”

I shrugged.

“So…not you?”

I felt my cheeks redden.

He smiled wider, turning his attention back to the mess under my hood. “With a car like this, you should really have someone who appreciates it and wants to help you take care of it. It’s a lot of work.”

That whole statement seemed like it had a lot of double-meaning attached to it. I wasn’t sure what to make of it, but I wasn’t the type of woman who wanted a man to take care of me, and I didn’t want him to assume I was. “I can do the work myself. I don’t need anyone else.”

He braced his arms against the edge of the car, his muscles even more defined with the added strain of his weight. He held my gaze. “You definitely needed me tonight.” My eyes widened and he grinned. It took me a second to realize he was talking about my car, and not about all of the other ways he thought I needed him.

I folded my arms over my chest. “I call for help when I can’t take care of something on my own.”

He laughed softly.

“What’s so funny?”

“Just wondering what else you get ‘help’ with.”

He took a towel from his tool box and wiped the antifreeze off of She-Ra. I watched his large, strong hands move over the engine compartment, cleaning it with precision. If his car maintenance skills were any indication, he was a perfectionist, through and through. I couldn’t help but wonder what other things he approached with such determined focus, and what else he could do with those hands.

“Did your friend at the Soup and Spoon find some research material?”

My jaw dropped. So,
now
he was acknowledging our previous wordless exchange…and informing me that he’d been eavesdropping. “How did you know about that?”

“Your friend wasn’t exactly whispering. Did she find what she was looking for?”

I was kind of annoyed he was asking. What? Did he want to be part of her research team? Geez. I scowled at the thought. “Brynn usually gets what she wants.”

He licked his lips, his eyes focused on mine. “Do you?”

I had no response, and was too stunned by the scorching heat radiating off of him to answer. The way he looked at me made me think I should stop for a pregnancy test on the way home because he might have inseminated me with his eyes.

His lips lifted slightly, amused that he’d made me uncomfortable. “The tube for your radiator overflow popped off and the overflow container is leaking, too,” he said, throwing the towel back in his tool box. “It’s a hazard; you should get it fixed, or your radiator will leak—and overheat— constantly.” He latched the clips on the front of the box and picked it up. “You’ll be fine to get it home, just don’t take it on the freeway or for long distances until you bring it into the shop and we install the overflow.”

Still overcome with all the lip licking and eye-sexing, I barely comprehended his explanation of my car issues. His brow lifted like he was waiting for a response—which was a problem since my throat felt like cotton. I attempted a swallow. “Great,” I managed to get out. “Thanks for your help.”