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second of shock in his gaze. It faded and he gave me a simple nod which didn’t answer the question I had asked. I didn’t bother repeating myself.
     
    Grabbing my keys off the table, I turned and headed for my jacket. Slipping into it, I heard him clear his throat and stand up. I turned to watch him drain his beer, grab his things and toss a twenty dollar bill on the table. I waved to Laney and made my exit.
     
    My boots scuffed over the planks of the porch and violated the sand on the dusty parking lot. I straddled the Harley and took my time grabbing my helmet. Before I could get my key in the bike Murphy walked out the door and stretched his arms up over his head, looking like he had just woken up. Worn jeans hugged muscular thighs and hung perfectly over his black boots. His shirt lifted slightly as his arms rose and gave me a glance at his defined lower torso. His boots thudded beneath him as he headed for his Chevelle and climbed in. He was a big man but he carried himself with a rugged grace that made him easy on the eyes. He let out a deep yawn that gave way to what sounded like a deep growl and shut the blue door behind him.
     
    The bike purred to life beneath me and I cast a glance at Murphy before I pulled out. His gaze met mine over the top of his cheap black shades and the look gave me chills. With the bike alive between my thighs and the dangerous and promising look in his eyes, my passion began to ache. I felt my teeth pull at my bottom lip and tore my eyes from his. I had to fight it. What the fuck was going on?
     
    Pulling out onto the road, I watched Murphy pull out and keep a safe distance. I hoped the ride home would give me time to lecture my hormones and collect myself but every time I glanced in my mirror I could swear I could see him baring that taunting grin. Arguing with my body was becoming difficult.
     
    We pulled into the driveway that led to the garage and I hopped off to open up the shop. After rolling the bike inside and storing it, I shoved the second and third garage doors open and found Murphy seated on the hood of his blue Chevelle with a cigarette hanging loose between his lips. With his shades off, his eyes squinted against the sunlight and shifted from one end of the garage to the other. He nodded and looked me over as I moved from the office down to the third door where the lift was. With my arms crossed over my chest I smiled.
     
    “This is my baby. Welcome to Marshall’s Motors. We are open Monday through Thursday, nine to whenever. Sometimes work is slow, other times my yard looks like a used car lot. With the end of the month rolling around, we will have a lot of oil changes. I do have one client bringing in a 1952 Chevy Bel Air on Monday. He won it in a bet. It’s a piece of shit right now but he wants it restored. Hope you are up for it,” I informed him and slipped out of the shop to stand closer to him and turned to look at the place. “There is a single out back for body work. I like to keep my grease and paint separate.” He nodded and turned to look at his car.
     
    “Do you mind if I oil her up,” he asked and I smiled.
     
    “Only if you do mine too,” I replied and tossed him my keys. I pointed to my 1962 Chevy pick up across the yard by the house. He arched a brow as he looked it over and then nodded.
     
    “Needs a paint job too,” he commented. I nodded. I would get to that eventually.
     
    “There are some coveralls in the office. Help yourself when you need them. I’m going to go work in the house for a bit. If you need anything just come on in.” I was offering him his one and only shot at any trust with me. If he messed up my shop, I’d kill him. Hoping he knew what he was doing, I turned on heel and headed across the dry yard towards the back of the house.
     
    While I listened to the shop tools outside and the radio in the kitchen I gathered the laundry basket and headed out to the line to pull and fold the dry clothes. I could see the shop