Huge Working Hero (Hard Working Hero Book 3) Read online

  “Can you smell that, Mr. Klein?” I ask, lifting my nose to the sky. “That sweet smell?”

  “Yeah, it smells like maple syrup.”

  “Right, that's coolant. There's probably a crack in the head gasket and coolant is leaking into the cylinders. That's where the white smoke is coming from.”

  “Huh, really?” He sounds generally interested. “And a leak can cause that?”

  “I'm just taking an educated guess. But, yeah, I'd probably say that's the issue. I mean, there's a chance the heater core is shot, but you wouldn't get that white smoke from it.” I lean under the hood, bringing my face close to the engine. Popping the top on the coolant reserve, I look inside. “Yup, it's definitely low. See?”

  I pull back, giving Mr. Klein room to look for himself. “Yeah, it's low.”

  I run my fingers around the hoses, but they're clean. “I don't see any coolant on the ground and there's none leaking from here either.” Holding up my fingers, he inspects them and nods.

  “You're sure it's the gasket?” he asks.

  “Ninety-nine percent.”

  “Okay, let me go make a few calls to see if I can get a new head gasket. I can do it tomorrow.”

  “Have you changed one before?”

  “No, but how hard can it be?” He's facing away, walking to the door inside the garage that leads inside. “Give me a few minutes. For now, can you drain the oil?”

  “Sure,” I say.

  Wilson Klein, owner of Klein Motors up on Balfour Road, not too far from the Brentwood Golf Club. A fancy place for a high-end shop if I've ever seen one. Plus, being so close to the golf course makes it easy for him to go there for lunch and play a few holes during the week.

  I've never been. Not that he's ever given me an invitation to join him, but even if he did, I would politely decline. I'm not a golfer. I'm a car guy. A real car guy. I like getting my hands dirty, my pants greasy, and my shirt saturated with the smell of motor oil and exhaust before I go home for the night.

  I also like pussy. And my gut is telling me his daughter has a really pretty pussy under those tiny little shorts of hers.

  I watch Mr. Klein as he heads inside, closing the door behind him. I lean left and right, hoping to get a small glimpse of his daughter again. Fuck, she's hot. Tight little ass, smooth lean legs, perky tits I could almost see through her shirt.

  I'm salivating. Smacking my lips, I swallow. I haven't seen her since I found her dog. She's been inside all morning. Every so often I look up at the windows, hoping to see her, and wondering if she's inside looking back.

  My eyes dart to the big front window, but the glare is just too bright. A mirror image of the trees across street reflects back at me. The sun sends a blinding burst of light that burns my retinas and turns the skin on my cheeks red hot.

  I lower my head back under the hood. And still, despite the blinding ray of light, despite the fiery heat on my skin, Kelsie Klein is a crystal-clear image in my mind.

  Her dirty blond hair, amber brown eyes, and luscious lips are all I can think about. It's making it hard for me to focus on anything else.

  I'm on autopilot as I push the stands under the front wheels of the Fairlane and slowly drive it on top. I set a block behind the rear tire so it can't roll back and crush me like I've seen on those Investigation Discovery murder mysteries.

  Not that anyone would think the mighty and powerful, millionaire car-god, Wilson Klein, killed me for my insurance policy, but you get the point. I don't need to be crushed by some freak accident.

  Kelsie's gorgeous big doe eyes take shape against the front headlights of the car as I move around it to the other side. They're so bright. Full as the harvest moon, and deep as the ocean at night.

  I'm never going to get anything done like this. Shaking my head, I force her out the best I can, and grab the creeper leaning against the garage door. I pick up the oil pan, lay on the creeper, and slip under the car.

  Just focus on what you're getting paid to do.

  The wheels creak under my weight, and my heels scuff against the paved driveway as I push myself under up to my stomach. I twist the oil pan bolt free and watch as the dark brown liquid streams into the pan.

  Somewhere in the distance I hear singing. It's not very loud, but the wind is carrying it to me easily. I listen, trying to figure out what song is being tweeted like a morning dove's tune.

  It's an older song. I can tell instantly. Elvis? Little Richard? No, it's Buddy Holly.

  'Every day it's a getting closer, going faster than a roller-coaster. A hey, a hey, hey. . .' I can hear the words now, and the keyboard as it jingles like bells in my head.

  I dig my heels against the driveway, pulling myself out from under the car, and lifting my head up to look down the street. My eyes are fuzzy from the change in lighting, so I blink a couple times until they're clear.

  Kelsie comes around the corner, with her dog on the leash, her ponytail bouncing side to side with every step. There's a small earbud in her right ear. Her eyes are closed as she sings to herself. Garlits is jogging at her side, with a tongue almost as big as him hanging out of his mouth.

  Her leggings are skintight, and her tank-top hugs her like a wet shirt. My eyes bounce with her chest as her feet hit the sidewalk and she dances with her hands to the beat of the music.

  I push up on the seat, resting my forearms against my knees as I watch her with a smile on my face. I honestly don't think she realizes just how pretty she is. She holds herself differently than a girl who's spent years in beauty pageants.

  Her chin might be held up high, and her back might be straight as an arrow now, but when she came around the corner this morning, I saw something different. Her body slumped forward, and her hands tapped nervously against her thighs. Her eyes shifted nervously as if she was afraid to look at me directly.

  I found it sad to see her so timid and unsure of herself. But there was a hint of attraction. I couldn't see it, but I sure as hell could feel it. Like a tether that stretched from her to me and pulled on my chest.

  I'm feeling that same pull right now as she happily sings her way home. My chest is tight and my heart starts to race. She's beautiful.

  But she's rich. And you know how rich girls are.

  I've seen it before. The nice rich girl who knows how to be polite while really on the inside she's screaming for you to go away. It's the barely touch handshake and the nostril flare of disgust masked with a practiced smile.

  Why would she be any different?

  It doesn't matter if she's different or not because she's off limits.

  She's my boss's daughter. I shouldn't even be thinking about her as anything else. Not as a sexy little minx. Not as a hot angel I'd love to destroy. She's out of reach. That's how this thing works. I stay in my lane, she stays in hers, and I don't have to worry about losing this job.

  Kelsie turns up the driveway, oblivious to the fact I'm sitting right here. “Buddy Holly,” I say as she approaches the garage door.

  “Oh,” she jumps slightly and throws her hand to her chest. “Jesus, I didn't see you there.”

  “Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. And it's Brand, not Jesus.” I chuckle. She giggles with me. “I just heard you singing, and I'm surprised you even know a song that old.”

  “Yeah, I like all kinds of music. From old to new.” She smiles with her lips closed. Garlits sniffs his way to me and tries to climb up on my chest. “Garlits, get down.” She tugs the leash with a strong pull.

  “He's fine.” I reach out and pet his head. Garlits flops to his side and rolls onto his back so I can scratch his belly. “He's quite the ham, huh?”

  “He really is. I'm sucker for that face of his.”

  “So, how did you sneak past me with this little guy? I didn't see you leave.”

  “There's a path in the back that leads out to the main road. I like to take it with him. It's a little hilly, so it gives him a good workout.”

  “I see it doesn't just do his body good.
” I smirk and wink. My eyes run up and down her body. I don't even bother trying to hide it.

  I know I shouldn't be so brazen, but the words just tumble right out. I hardly even think about it. For all I know she could slap me, scoff, and run to tell her father.

  He's going to fire you for that dumbass.

  Me and my big mouth.

  I'm about to apologize, again, when she giggles. “I'll take that as a compliment. I guess I like the workout too. I can say the same for you too. It looks like working on cars does your body good.” Her smile widens and she winks back.

  “Me?”

  “Yeah, you. I'm sure it helped build those muscles.” Her eyes slide down my arms, then slowly back up to my face. “Unless you spend hours in the gym lifting?”

  “Nope, this is all wrench work.” I flex. She laughs again, only this time she bites her bottom lip and her cheeks turn rosy. “So, you like cars like your dad?”

  “Meh,” she says, tipping her head from her left shoulder to her right. “I wouldn't say I love it. This is my dad's thing.”

  Are you sure about that? I don't ask her out loud, but I think it. Because the guy thought the smoke was from a hole in his exhaust. Any novelist like him in the car world should have known instantly what it was. He didn't.

  “So, what's your thing then?” I ask.

  She eyes me curiously, her brows lowering slightly. “You really want to know?”

  “I wouldn't have asked if I didn't.” I push myself up off the creeper and wipe my hands on the rag in my pocket.

  “Gardening.” Her voice lowers as if she's whispering a secret to me.

  “Gardening?”

  “Yeah, gardening. Why? Is that weird?”

  “No, not at all. I'm just picturing you in a garden in the same little shorts you had on this morning.” My lips spread into a broad smile.

  Kelsie's cheeks flush and her eyes drop to her dog who is now rolling around on his back as if he's got an itch he can't scratch.

  I'm enjoying this right now. The way her skin is turning pink, and her breathing is getting more shallow and rapid. Her hands nervously twine and untwine the leash handle around her wrist. She's twisting the tip of her sneaker into the pavement.

  There's a chance she might burn a hole in the toe if she keeps twisting her toe the way she is. Her chin drops into her chest, causing her ponytail to swing down across her face. I reach forward, using the very tips of my fingers to push the hair back.

  “You shouldn't ever hide your face. You're too pretty to hide.”

  Her eyes slowly lift to mine. They jump back and forth, and it looks like she's holding her breath. I can't tell for sure if she is, but if she isn't, her breathing is so shallow it's unnoticeable.

  “Well, I can see you're busy. I'll let you get back to work.” She steps away, pulling on the leash. “Come on, Garlits,” she says. He jumps up and follows her inside the house.

  Damn. This girl is going to get me in trouble. I can feel it.

  I stare at the closed door for far too long, until finally pulling myself away with my own leash. I get back under the car, put the bolt back in place on the oil pan, and untwist the filter. The new filter is primed and ready. I already filled it with some oil and smeared some around the rim.

  It takes me a quick second to put the new filter in, then I'm out from under the car, and filling the engine with fresh new motor oil. The engine is a little dirty, and if Mr. Klein expects to show off at the car show, it's going to need to gleam better than this.

  I shuffle through his toolboxes until I find a nice clean rag, and start wiping the grime off the engine. I hear the door inside the garage open, and assume Mr. Klein is back. I feel him standing behind me.

  “I changed the oil, and figured I'd give the engine a little shine while I waited to see how you made out. Did you find a place with the head gasket in stock?”

  “I'm not sure.” It's not Mr. Klein's voice; it's Kelsie. “But I thought you might be thirsty, so I brought you some lemonade.”

  I glance over my shoulder. She's standing with a glass in her hand. There's a slice of lemon floating on top, and one sitting on the rim. The rim also looks like she dipped it in sugar.

  “Thanks,” I say. Taking the lemonade. I drink a big sip. “It's hot as hell out and this hits the spot.”

  “Good. I'm glad.”

  I bring the glass to my lips again and get bumped in the leg hard enough to make me wobble on my feet. Lemonade spills from the glass and down my shirt.

  “Garlits!” Kelsie yells, and shoos him away with her foot. “Go on, go lay down.” She turns her attention back to me. “I'm so sorry. Here let me help.” She takes the glass from my hand and starts wiping the front of my shirt with her hand. “He's a pain in the ass sometimes. Especially if he wants your attention.”

  I pull the rag from my pocket and wipe my face.

  “Oh,” she says. “You uh, you replaced lemonade with grease—or maybe oil, I'm not sure.”

  “Did I? Where?” I wipe across my chin.

  “No, it's over here,” she says, pointing to my left cheek.

  “Here?” I ask and wipe again.

  “Let me see.” Kelsie takes the rag and wipes my cheek herself. “There, got it.”

  She's inches from my face as she lifts her head up. I can smell her shampoo. Coconut and hibiscus mesh with the air I'm inhaling. I breathe deeper, longer, and hold it to memorize that scent.

  I can see small beads of sweat swelling at her hairline. They hang there, clutching the strands and refusing to break loose. There are freckles the size of a pencil tip creating small patches at the crest of each cheek just beneath her eyes. Her lips are soft pink.

  My eyes linger on her mouth. I want to kiss her. Taste her. Feel her lips against mine, and her tongue in my mouth.

  She pulls her bottom lip in and nibbles on it as my eyes come back to hers. The corner of her mouth twitches, her lips parting in thought. But no words come out.

  I can't stop myself. My body takes over, and I do the only thing I probably shouldn't. I kiss her.

  I'm slow, soft, and gentle. I don't want to spook her, make her freak out and run away. But I can't help myself. I have to kiss her. She's too close not to.

  To my surprise, Kelsie kisses me back.

  Her lips open wider, her body naturally leaning in. Her tits press against my chest, making my cock come to life. I breathe in, letting the subtle perfume permeate my body from head to toe.

  The door in the garage starts to open, causing Kelsie to take a giant leap back.

  “They don't have it on the shelf, but they ordered it and the part will be in tomorrow. We can pick it up late morning.” Her father steps down into the garage, his eyes on his phone. He looks up and stops. “Kelsie, why are you out here and not inside packing for this weekend?”

  “I—I uh. . . I,” she stutters, her eyes nervously jumping from her father to me.

  She's frazzled. It's cute and sexy to see her cheeks turn rosy, and a few beads of sweat finally trickle down her temples.

  “I caught her coming back from her walk and asked her for a drink. I hope that's okay? It's just so hot today.”

  He grunts, his eyes passing over us curiously. I'm not sure if he buys what I'm saying or not. Wilson Klein can be a hard man to read. Sometimes I just can't tell what he's thinking.

  He should have become a professional poker player.

  “Are you on the clock?” he asks me. I nod. “Then it's not socializing time. Kelsie, go pack.”

  “Dad, I was thinking that maybe this time I could just stay home. I've gone every year, and I'm twenty-one, plenty old enough to hold down the fort.”

  “Good thing I'm not asking, then. You're coming.” His phone rings, and he glances down at the screen. “I need to take this.” Mr. Klein walks past us and out to the edge of the road. His back is to us, and the phone is pressed against his ear.

  “You really don't want to go?” I ask her.

  “Honestly,
no. I've gone every year, and each time I end up bored out of my mind. I'll convince him to let me stay here.”

  “That's too bad because I'm going. It would have been cool to hang out some, maybe we could have snuck off.”

  “Snuck off to do what?” she asks, looking past me at her father.

  “Honestly,” I say, smirking. “After that kiss, all I can think about is licking your pussy and making you squeal.”

  Kelsie smiles bashfully and shakes her head. “What did I get myself into? Kissing you was a mistake.”

  “Maybe. But now it's too late to take it back, and I'm a determined man.”

  “All right, talk to you later.” Mr. Klein comes back in the garage. “Brand, let’s get the car off the ramps and finish the tune up.”

  Kelsie quietly turns and goes back in the house. She gives me one last look over her shoulder before disappearing inside.

  She's wrong about saying our kiss was a mistake. I felt it, and she felt it too. Some might say it's just a simple kiss. Right? Nothing more than two people who just met sharing an insignificant moment.

  We don't remember every kiss in our lifetime. We don't remember the moments that are meaningless. We remember the ones that strike us like an electric current. The moments that stand out. The ones we feel in our core.

  This is one of those moments. A simple kiss that punched me in the gut. A simple kiss that turned my insides upside down. A simple kiss that zipped through my chest, swept down my arms, and curled around my legs.

  This is no mistake, and it certainly wasn’t just a simple kiss.

  3

  Kelsie

  I throw a crumpled sundress into my suitcase with force. It lands on top of the other balled up clothes. I'm angry packing. I'm embarrassed that my father treated me like a child in front of Brand. I'm ticked off that he's making me go to this stupid car show for the twentieth time in my life. And I'm blissfully giddy about the kiss.

  Thinking about it gives me butterflies. My stomach twirls and flips, and my throat is dry. I lick my lips and swallow. I can still taste the lemonade from his tongue in my mouth. The bitterness stings my lips and the sweetness drips down my throat.