Night Maneuvers

chapter 6

SITUATION REPORT—DAY TEN: under control.

Tuesday afternoon around five, Mitch found himself in Hughes’s office, leaning against the doorjamb as she finished filling out forms.

After shoving a stack of papers in her out-box, she glanced up. “You look like crap.”

“Thanks, I’m trying something new.”

She shook her head and clicked her tongue. “Celibate less than two weeks and it’s already giving you bloodshot eyes and dark circles.”

Yeah, that must be what was bugging him. He hadn’t slept well—or much at all—the past couple of nights. He’d twisted in his sheets, confused and…unsettled. But he’d rot first before admitting that. He grinned, pushed off the doorjamb and came into her office. “Think how the ladies will love to soothe my fevered brow.”

Shaking her head, she suppressed a smile. “You’re hopeless.” Getting to her feet, she grabbed her jacket and briefcase and took a step toward the door.

“Thought we’d grab a couple of beers.”

She stopped in her tracks and stared up at him, her expression inscrutable. “Uh, I can’t. The Mustang. Needs new brake pads.”

“Great. You provide the Shiner Bock and I’ll bring the pizza.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, spun on his heel and sauntered out the door.



AN HOUR LATER Alex heard Mitch’s Jeep pull up and squashed the urge to run into her house and change clothes or wash off the grease. This was McCabe. He’d seen her greasy before. Once he’d even held her head while she puked up her guts. What was the big deal?

But the truth was, greasy or not, she didn’t want to be around him right now. Curse her slow brain this afternoon. Any excuse would’ve been better than working on her Mustang. They always helped each other with car repairs.

Mitch’s boots appeared at the edge of her vision. “You started without me?” The aroma of pepperoni and melted mozzarella drifted to her nostrils.

Alex rolled out from underneath her ’Stang and took his waiting hand to pull her to her feet. But Mitch didn’t let go. His gaze lowered to her chest and remained there.

She looked down. What? She was wearing the same thing she always wore when they worked on their cars. Ratty jeans and an old T-shirt that had once been her brother’s. And no bra.

This had never been a problem around Mitch before. But between the cool fall air and Mitch’s gaze on them, her nipples had tightened to the point of pain. Act normal, Hughes. But her breathing was erratic and her heart was pumping hard.

Mitch’s Adam’s apple fell and rose as he swallowed, and then he licked his lips. He finally met her eyes, and she could read the hunger mixed with confusion in his. Briefly, she considered kissing him again. But if she did, she might not stop this time. Uh, yeah, you didn’t last time.

She tugged her hand from his grasp. “Let’s eat.” Slamming into her house, she headed for her bedroom, put on a bra and tugged on a thick sweatshirt, telling herself the sun was going down and the air was cooling. Then, grabbing the six-pack of her favorite Texas beer from the fridge, she joined Mitch on the porch for pizza.

“So, how’re your rookies?” Mitch finally spoke around a bite.

Alex nodded. “Not bad. Got the usual too-cocky-for-his-own-good recruit.”

Mitch chuckled. “Nothing wrong with having confidence.”

Alex stared at Mitch’s beautiful smile and felt her own mouth lifting at the corners. For a second, they were once again buddies sharing a pizza and repairing a car together like they had plenty of times over the years. Then his smile faded. “Alex…?”

She shot off the porch step. “Better get to work before we lose the daylight.” She wiped pizza grease on the front of her jeans and practically dove for the safety beneath the car.

“Damn it.” She could kick herself. She’d left her tools out there.

“Hurt yourself already?”

“Make yourself useful and hand me that ratchet.”

She heard shuffling and metal clanking and then he was wiggling under the Mustang beside her, his body achingly close. He’d showered and smelled of clean, masculine soap. With the car up on blocks there was plenty of light and room to see clearly. She was acutely aware of the hard planes of his chest under a tight T-shirt. Of his breath hitting her cheek.

This was ridiculous. They’d worked beneath their various cars and trucks dozens of times.

“Here you go.” The ratchet hit her waiting palm with a sure but gentle slap.

“Thanks.” Did her voice sound breathy? Would he assume she was just working hard on loosening the brake pad? She closed her eyes and tried to take in a deep slow breath, tried to force her body to regain some semblance of control.

“Is it being stubborn? Want me to try it?” Mitch asked, his voice low and close to her ear.

What she wanted was to roll over and nuzzle into his broad shoulder and flatten her hand on his taut stomach, and maybe inch her fingers slowly under the waist of his jeans, and farther down to cup him and see if he was as hard as she was wet.

“Hughes?”

Alex jerked and her eyes popped open, the fantasy burst, leaving an evaporating trail of misty longing. “I got it,” she snapped.

“Geez, fine. I’ll work on the rear pads.” He scooted away, leaving her alone with her miserable, throbbing need.

For the first time ever she wished she could just drive down to the Strip, find some anonymous guy and relieve her itch. Because even if Mitch weren’t honor bound to be celibate the next three weeks, there’s no way she’d ever do the mattress mambo with Casanova McCabe. It would kill her to be just another notch on his joystick.

But she was too old for one-night stands and predawn walks of shame. If she started an affair with someone at this point in her life, it would be because she was serious about the guy.

By sheer determination, she shoved her desire down into the deep place inside where it usually resided, and concentrated on brake pads.

Mitch started replacing the rear brakes and they fell into a natural rhythm of passing tools back and forth, and communicating without words, a camaraderie that’d been built over years of having each other’s backs.

A dozen years of trust, companionship and loyalty. No way she’d give that up for a night of sex. Some people might be capable of being friends with benefits. But she knew, way down deep in the truest part of herself, if she ever slept with Mitch, she’d want the whole shebang. His heart, his soul, and, yeah, at this point, his kids.