My mind quickly switched from ”check out hot younger guy” to momma bear mode.
“Let’s go check her out,” Lucky said, wiping his hands on a rag and walking toward my car.
I momentarily moved my thoughts of maim and possibly murder. My eyes cut to the attractive Lucky sauntering over to my car.
“What?” I shot at him dangerously.
He looked over his shoulder at me. “Your car? I’ll probably need to get a look at her if I can have any hope of fixing her in time for you to make it to your movie,” he told me on a grin.
I exhaled slightly and caught up with him. “Well, anything that you can do to make sure I don’t miss the previews is an act which will make me look upon you as a godlike being for the rest of my life,” I told him seriously. I kept my eye on the dark-haired kid leaning onto the passenger side of my car, but focused on maintaining some form of conversation with Lucky. He probably already thought I was weird. On the plus side, I hadn’t seen Zane yet. Always a silver lining.
Lucky looked at me sideways, a hint of a smile tickling the edge of his attractive mouth. “The previews?” he questioned.
“Yeah, they’re like our favorite part. It’s integral to the entire moviegoing experience. Watching a movie without the previews would be akin to not having cheese on a pizza. It simply isn’t done,” I informed him sagely.
Lucky didn’t have a hint of a grin anymore; he was flat out smiling, and giving me a look that made me wish I was about five years younger. Or more of a cougar. Maybe I could turn into a cougar.
My cougar thoughts were quickly shattered as we reached my car and the man-boy who had been chatting to my little girl straightened. I rectified my earlier man-boy thought; this was just a straight up man. Yes, he was most likely still a teenager, but there was no pimples or gangly legs to be seen. He was tall, taller than most fully grown men, with a shadow on his jaw which made him seem older. His jet black hair was messy and in need of a cut, but it just added to the bad boy vibe he had going. Wearing a leather vest, a black tee and black jeans, he screamed mother’s worst nightmare.
I narrowed my eyes at him. I’m not normally one to judge, but he was talking to my little girl. And a kid like that did not ”just talk” to a kid as pretty as Lexie. He’d probably impregnate her by giving her a smoldering look, which I’m sure he had down pat.
“Shouldn’t you be polishing hub cabs or sweeping out the garage, kid?” Lucky shot at the dangerously attractive youth whom I was feeling slightly murderous thoughts toward. I couldn’t help it. I was a protective momma bear.
He looked up lazily and didn’t seem to be worried at the hint of the warning in Lucky’s tone. Brave kid.
“Smoke break,” was all he said, holding up a nearly finished cigarette.
Well, that was it. Nail in his coffin. Subjecting my girl to not only his raging hormones, but secondhand smoke also? Nuh uh.
Lucky gave him a look, then focused on the passenger seat of my car, squinting. He shook his head knowingly, a shadow of a grin reappearing on his face.
“Well, since you’re here you can help me take a look at the lady’s car. See if we can get her off to her movie,” he declared, moving to the front of my car.
The “kid” didn’t say a word, merely threw his finished cigarette away and sauntered to join Lucky, who glanced at me.
“Pop the hood, would you, darlin’?”
I jerked out of my glare at the “kid” who was now also staring at me, and moved to the driver’s side. I opened the door and popped the hood. I then sat down and stared at my daughter, who was lounging in her seat with her book face down in her lap.
She caught my stare and raised her eyebrows at me innocently. “What?” she asked obliviously.
I raised my eyebrows right back. “Don’t what me. You know exactly what,” I told her.
She kept up the act. “No, I don’t, actually.”
“Don’t play dumb. The obscure Russian literature in your lap makes the act fall short,” I informed her flatly.
“Leo Tolstoy is hardly obscure,” she argued defensively. “He is considered to be one of the best novelists of all time.”
“That book is fifteen hundred pages,” I said by explanation.
“So?” she replied tersely.
“So that book could be used to sink a small boating vessel, or as a weapon to knock even the most hardheaded attacker unconscious,” I continued with seriousness.
“I’m using it for its intended purpose,” she replied smartly.
“I doubt its intended purpose is to be sitting in the lap of a teenage girl while a teenage boy puffs smoke in her face,” I shot back just as smartly.