I shot him a disinterested look, but really, I was sort of looking forward to it. At least it gave me something to do.
Now that we’d finished our lunch, I imagined he was planning on holing back up in his office to work on his case, so I planned to get the rest of my cleaning done. The sooner I could get back into my own clothes, the better.
“May I be excused?” I asked sweetly.
He shook his head. “You may, but only to change back into your tee shirt and leggings.”
“Why?”
“That dress is only for church,” he answered. “And I need your help. Meet me out front in fifteen minutes.”
SIXTEEN MINUTES LATER, THE FRONTdoor slammed behind me and I thought I was ready to stage a rebellion. Instead, I found myself rooted to the welcome mat.
Now this was a holy experience.
Lucian West owned a vintage Shelby GT500, and he never even told me. It was a pearly blue, and it was a beauty. But honestly, I didn’t know what was more impressive. The car or the man beneath the hood turning the wrenches.
His hands were covered in grease, and an oil rag was hanging from his back pocket. Every muscle in his body worked as he torqued the wrench in his hand, and I watched in fascination from the sidelines. I would have never guessed that this high-powered attorney could fix cars too. Even if I had no idea what he was doing, it was apparent that he did.
He squinted at me through the afternoon sun. “Are you going to watch all day, or are you ready to help?”
My cheeks flushed, and I was annoyed that he’d caught me staring. “I thought you would have paid someone to do this sort of work for you.”
“There’s no pride in that when I can do it myself.”
I didn’t reply, but I did move closer when he gestured for me. “What do you need me to do?”
He looked down at my fingers. “I need your hand.”
I stopped moving. “My hand?”
“It’s smaller than mine,” he observed.
I arched a brow. “What will I be doing with said hand?”
“There’s a loose bolt on the header,” he informed me. “I need you to reach down between the body and engine gap to tighten it.”
He pointed and showed me what he wanted me to do. It seemed easy enough, but I still wasn’t quite sure of myself, and I hated feeling that way. I was half tempted to go back in the house, consequences be damned, but then he moved behind me and positioned my body the way he decided would work best.
Or something like that.
I was too aware of his heat behind me. The scent of car grease and gasoline and something so distinctly Lucian, I’d never forget it. His whole house smelled like warm caramel and cloves, and it had taken me a while to realize that it was just him.
“Here.” He guided my arm down into the machinery of the car, and I followed his instructions carefully while I held my breath.
I didn’t know what was happening, but I felt warm all over. He was so close to me. I should have wanted to push him away, but I didn’t. And I couldn’t understand that.
Despite his religious beliefs and the few nice things he’d done for me, he wasn’t a good person. He blackmailed me, forcing me into this marriage, and threatened to ruin my life. Even if that weren’t the case, we had a huge age gap between us. Seventeen years. It felt wrong that I had even for a split second considered him attractive.
“Are we done now?” I asked as I finished the task he’d given me.
He took my arm in his and wiped it with a cloth, but his eyes never left mine. “You have trouble with men getting close to you.”
I didn’t know if it was an observation or a question, but regardless, I wasn’t answering.
“I told you I would never hurt you,” Lucian said.
“So?” I shot back. “You brought me here, didn’t you? You made me marry you. How can I know what you’re capable of? I barely know you.”