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Rogers’ Auto Body & Paint

 

“1964 Austin Healey. Colorado red. Nice,” a man in a faded grey t-shirt, navy blue overalls stained with oil and grease, with a small white patch with red lettering spelling out ‘Steve’.

 

“Thanks,” Darcy says shoving her hands into the back pockets of her shorts. The movement turns Steve’s head from admiring the lines of her car to rake over Darcy. She’s pretty sure the temperature outside just raised by another ten degrees.

 

Steve’s blonde hair  is sticking up at odd angles, smears of grease  on his stubbled jaw and temple keep him from being too perfect. Or maybe it doesn’t help at all.

 

His mouth quirks up in a lazy smirk, and  he pulls a yellow rag from his back pocket and rubs the grease from his hands. Arousal shoots down her spine and settles low in her belly. ”What can I do for you today, Miss?”

 

A lot of things, Darcy thinks. And hopes the heat of the day hides the blush warming her cheeks. "Eleanor’s making a sorta….. clunky juddery noise,” Darcy says jerking her thumb back at the car.

 

“Clunky juddery,” Steve  asks, his left eyebrow arching up towards his hairline. That should not be as attractive as it is.


“Uh, yeah,” she says. There is probably more wrong with the car than that. It sat in my grandpa’s garage for years before his passing, but the only thing Darcy knows about cars is to change the oil and put in gas.