Miss Mechanic by Emma Hart EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Emma Hart
- Language: English
- Genre: Romantic Comedy
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Jamie
“He was the length of the Amazon river and the girth of the
Missouri.”
I blinked at my best friend. She could sit there and tell me this about
the cock of her latest conquest, but it didn’t change the fact he’d stiffed her
and not left his number.
And by stiffed, I don’t mean their dinner bill.
But, I didn’t say that. All I’d get in response would be the reminder
that if she was having one-night stands, she didn’t want their number.
“That would mean a lot more to me if I knew anything about the girth
of the Missouri,” I replied, wiping my hands on a rag. “There. I filled your
oil. I still don’t know how you’ve been driving for eight years and don’t
know how to change your oil.”
Haley grinned, her blue eyes twinkling. “I have you, James. I don’t
need to know how to change my oil.”
I held back the eye-roll that wanted to escape. “One day, I won’t be
here to do it for you.” I unhooked the hood of her Honda and pushed it back
down into place with a bang that echoed off the walls.
“You’ll always be here. Stop that.” She tapped her fingers against the
hood and it reverberated throughout my garage. “Thanks, by the way.
Twenty bucks?”
I waved my hand at her. “I’ve never charged you for an oil change
and I’m not about to start.”
“Well, if a pizza shows up here around six tonight, that’s your
payment.”
“And as always, I will accept without argument.” I grinned and
closed the drawer of my toolbox.
“Damn right you will.” She locked the car, making the lights flash an
obnoxious bright-white, and tucked the keys into the pocket of her sweats.
“Want a coffee?”
“Need a coffee,” I corrected, finally getting the last remnants of oil
off my palm. I threw the cloth on top of my huge-ass toolbox and followed
her inside to my kitchen.
Haley had already hit the button on the machine that provided my
lifeblood when I stepped inside. I pressed my left toes against my right heel
and tugged off the Doc Marten boot that encased it, then did the same with
the other foot. Kicking them back into the oil-coated garage, I shut the door
and pulled off my socks.
“So,” she started the moment the coffee machine stopped. “Did you
see the ad on Facebook?”
I leaned against the kitchen side and folded my arms. “The one for
the Chinese-sized sweater or the horrid blackhead facemask?”
She paused. “Well, both, but that wasn’t the one I was hinting at.”
“I don’t do hints, Hales. Spit it out.”
She put her mug under the machine. It spat to life, chugging out the
coffee like it was a car running on low power. She stayed perfectly silent
until the machine squirted out the last of the coffee for the cycle and she’d
pulled her mug onto the marble countertop.
“Haley.”
“The guy who bought your dad’s garage is advertising for a new
mechanic.”
I almost dropped my mug.
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