“We’ll wheel it to my SUV,” he cut me off. “It should fit just fine in the trunk of my cruiser.”
“You are the pushiest, most irritating, meddlesome?—”
“Goldie.”
“What?!”
“The auto-shop is a five mile ride, total opposite side of town from The Sea Witch. You can call me whatever names you want, all the worst adjectives you can come up with… I don’t give a shit. I’m still not about to let you ride there alone. Not when it’s getting dark out. Not looking like you do. Not ever. But especially not two nights before Halloween, when the whole damn city is flooded with all kinds of people looking for trouble.”
I digested this for a moment and, eventually, was forced to deem it a reasonable statement. To cover my annoyance, I narrowed my eyes and echoed, “Looking like I do?What does that mean?”
He stopped short. His gaze flickered up and down my body for a moment, lingering briefly on my bare legs, then drifting up to catch on the lacing at my bodice for another fraction of a second, before finally making its way back to my face. The banked heat in his eyes was undeniable. Seeing it there sent another delicious furl of attraction through every one of my nerve endings.
Shit.
“Looking like you do,” he repeated, voice rougher than usual. “That hair. Those eyes. And that smile — on the rare occasion you’ve actually let me see it — is like a gift. Fucking breathtaking.”
This.
Freaking.
Guy.
!!!!!
My lips were parted, mouth gaping like a fish on dry land, unable to draw in air let alone form a suitable response. Luckily, Cade didn’t seem to require one. He reached out with his free hand, placed a single finger beneath my chin, then gently pushed upward until my teeth met with a soft click.
“You gonna make it?” he asked, voice playful — though his eyes were still simmering with heat.
I nodded. (Even though, frankly, I was not completely certain I wasn’t about to keel over from lack of air.)
“Good,” he said.
And, with that, he turned and led me across the Common to retrieve my bicycle.
* * *
Goodfellow Custom Cars sat smack in the middle of a street peppered by tire shops, tool rentals services, and self-storage warehouses. It looked pretty much how I’d expected it to look, with a large forecourt, three big bay doors, and a sign declaring it an authorized state inspection site. One of the bay doors was open, and I could see there was a car up on the lift inside. The mechanic working on it swung his head in our direction the minute Cade pulled his SUV into the lot.
Before we’d even parked, the man was moving out to meet us, wiping grease-stained hands on a white rag. His coveralls were folded down around his hips and he was grinning wide in welcome.
“Cade, my man! Been too long. Was beginning to worry you’d found a new mechanic before you called.”
“Oh, come on Puck. You know I’m not the type to stray.” Cade lifted his fist and bumped it against the man’s. “Thanks for getting me in so fast, I know you’re always busy.”
“For you, I’m not busy. Anytime you need me, you got me. You know that.” He scratched the side of his head, which was shaved nearly to the skin. The full beard he was sporting made up for the lack of hair up top. “Just wish there was more I could do for you with this one. Like I told you on the phone, the car is on its last legs. Suspension is shot to shit. Brakes are going, transmission isn’t far behind. I can replace the tires, tune up the engine, but it’s like putting lipstick on a pig. The water pump part I ordered—” He shook his head. “Patch job. Might buy you another few thousand miles of road, but put aside those dreams of a cross-country voyage. You get me?”
Cade grunted. “I get you.”
I, it must be said, didnotget him, seeing as I didn’t speak mechanic. I didn’t know much about what he’d just said, all I knew was it sounded expensive. As inway flipping expensive.
My expression must’ve conveyed my gathering anxiety, because when Puck’s light brown eyes slid to mine, they went a bit soft. That softness disappeared, however, as they did a quick up-and-down scan of my body. A smile was still playing at his lips as he spoke.
“So, Cade, this must be your new… friend.”
My smile faltered a smidge at his well-timed pause. I powered through my discomfort, giving a little wave of my gloved fingers. “Um. Hi. I’m Imogen Warner. Owner of the rust bucket currently occupying your bay. It’s nice to meet you.”
His smile widened. He looked back at Cade. “Gotta say, man, I had friends like yours, I might not be so happily married.”