“He has an old Chevy he needs help fixing up. I told him you’d be up for the job.”
I hear the smile in Guy’s voice, but still can’t move my eyes to look at him. Car. He said something about fixing up a car.
Pushing through my shock, I reach for my sanity. “What kind of—” My words break on a squeak. This is embarrassing. I clear my throat. “Car? What kind?” That sounds slightly better. I can—Oh my gosh!
Jonah Slade is smiling.
Framing his perfect straight teeth and his luscious full lips are two freakin’ dimples. Sanity gone, fan-girl lust-buckets owning and operating my mind, I bite back an audible swoon.
He crosses his muscular arms across his broad chest, still smiling. “Ray? You’re, Ray?”
He said my name. My cheeks heat.
“Raven. My name is Raven. Guy calls me Ray.” My voice sounds weak and irritatingly pathetic. I try to sound more confident. “I guess it makes him feel better about having a girl working in his garage if he gives her a man’s name.” I study my feet and kick a pebble that isn’t there.
“Raven. Great name.” The compliment is said under his breath, almost to himself. “It’s nice to meet you.”
He’s continues to smile. If he doesn’t stop that soon, I’m never going to be able to concentrate on not making a fool out of myself. More than I already have.
His arm extends to shake my hand. I look at it like it’s a live scorpion. Guy nudges me with his shoulder and motions for me to shake. I wipe my palm on my coveralls, hoping he thinks it’s grease I’m removing, rather than my nervous sweat.
His large hand swallows mine in a firm handshake, the simplest gesture communicating strength and reliability. My shoulders relax, and I fall into the safety of the feeling. Static electricity buzzes between us. His thumb moves over my skin in the tiniest caress. Or did I imagine that?
I’m captivated. I’m unable to see his eyes behind his dark glasses, but I feel them boring into mine.
Without warning, his smile falls, and his eyebrows lower behind his shades. Oh, no. A simple handshake has now turned into holding hands. He thinks I’m weird. I pull back from his grip.
“You, um, have some grease on your . . .” He motions to his own forehead. “Here, I’ll . . .” His hand moves toward my face. I lean back, but keep my feet firmly planted as he swipes his thumb across my forehead: once, twice, three times, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.
“Oh, yeah. I shivered earlier and . . .” I wipe my head, deciding not to disclose the fact that his voice made me feverish.
I peek at Guy from the corner of my eye and watch the corners of his mouth twitch. Glad someone thinks my embarrassment is funny.
“Your car . . . er . . . what—”
“Jonah here is restoring a ’61 Impala.” Guy shows me mercy and saves me from making things more awkward.
“That’s great. Old Chevys are my specialty.” I could dance with joy at my ability to speak in full sentences. “You want to bring it by?”
“Actually, I . . .” His voice cracks. With a fist, he taps his chest and clears his throat. “Sorry, what I mean is I was hoping you might be able to work on it at my house.”
My eyebrows hit my hairline, my jaw loose and swaying in the breeze.
“I have a decent garage that has all the tools you should need.” He must’ve read confusion on my face rather than the earth-shattering shock I’m feeling.
Guy nods with a Cheshire-cat smile.
“The thing is it isn’t in running condition yet, and Guy said you get pretty busy around here. I don’t live far. Come by and check it out tomorrow. I could really use your trained eye to tell me what parts I need.”
My mouth hangs open.
Guy coughs away a laugh. “Sure, she can do that.” He looks back and forth between Jonah and me, his lips rolled between his teeth. What is so freakin’ funny?
“Okay. What time?”
He gives me the address to his house, and we agree to start at nine-thirty tomorrow morning.
I’m going to be fixing up a car with Jonah “The Assassin” Slade.
What have I gotten myself into?
Two
Raven
“Jonah freakin’ Slade? Are you shittin’ me, Rave?”
I sip my overpriced cup of coffee to hide my smile. I decided rather than call Eve after work yesterday I’d wait for our coffee date this morning to tell her in person. I’m glad I did. The look on her face reminds me of a balloon that’s inflated past capacity. She’s about to burst.
“You and ‘The Assassin’? Working together at his house? Like, alone?” Eve rattles off her list of questions, her last word ending on a squeal. I keep quiet. If I know Eve, she’s only getting started.
“The tabloids call him The Las Vegas Casanova. He’s a total skirt chaser. Oh my gosh!” She slams both her palms on the table, getting the attention of everyone in the small coffee shop. “He’s totally going to hit on you. This is so exciting. I’m seriously going to pee my pants.”