Mechanic With Benefits

Chapter 2 - Liam

This bitch. I grab her by the waist, spin her around, and make her look me in the fucking eye.

"You've already ruined my night. Now get in my motherfucking truck so I can take you to your car and see what the fuck the problem is, and send you on your merry fucking way."

Her jaw hangs open as she stares at me. I've got my hands loosely gripping her hips so she'll look me in the damn eye for once, and she's got her hands placed on top of mine. Her chest moves up and down in heavy breaths.

"That's quite a mouth you've got on you," she swallows.

"Yep. And I wonder how it would feel on you," I wink.

She bares her teeth and glances around. "You're the only mechanic in town, aren't you?"

"How'd you know?"

"It's the only way you'd get to be such an asshole. Where's the customer service?"

"You know what? I'm not here to sell you on my services. Fuck it. Good luck, lady." I let go of her body.

"No." She finally mutters in a soft whisper. "Just take me."

I squint hard at this girl. She doesn't know it, but the only reason I'm helping her is that 'mom' comment she made.

My mom would be disappointed in me if I didn't help a woman in need.

I pull out my keys and jingle them. "Let's go." I stride toward my truck, which is parked on the street. When she doesn't budge, I turn back. "What the fuck, lady?"

"You're not even going to put a shirt on? You're a damn Neanderthal."

"It's ninety fucking five degrees fahrenheit in Blackwell tonight, City Girl. I'm sweating my fucking balls off here."

"You really need to stop dropping so many F-bombs," she huffs, but she finally gets in my truck.

The sun has set on Blackwell and it's finally totally dark. I pull out a cigarette and light it.

"Seriously? You're going to smoke in the car? Rude."

I glance over at her, cigarette in my mouth, then focus back on the road. "Damn woman. Seriously, are you this much of a bitch with your boyfriend? How the fuck does he stand you?"

Her eyes light up with rage. "What the fuck!? How dare you! You are some kind of asshole. Do you talk to your mother with that mouth?"

I scoff and put my eyes back on the road, shaking my head. Two minutes after we met, and she already knows how to hit me where it hurts. "You walked a long fucking way, City Girl. That's the most impressed I've been all day, to be honest. Five miles for a high maintence city broad like you? Why, I'm surprised you didn't have a mental breakdown on the way. Hey, put your seatbelt on, will you?"

She folds her arms. "I cannot believe I'm in this fucking town. With the biggest asshole in it. And no, I'm not putting my seatbelt on, why don't you?"

"Just do it, pretty please?" I do my best to feign a smile with my cigarette between my teeth.

"No thank you," she quips, the defiant little bitch.

I lick my lips and toss my cigarette out the window,

"Thing is, you never know what's gonna happen in Blackwell, Miss."

Her face softens just a tad. "Oh, Miss? That's what I am now? First, 'Lady,' then "City Girl,' and now, 'Miss?' So how many more upgrades until I get called by my real name?"

I sigh. I don't have the heart to tell her that I truly don't give a shit about her real name. Not like I haven't seen a city girl come through here before, then move on the next week like it's no big deal. Myself, I'm a simple man. Once I call someone--anyone, girl or guy--by their name, I intend to remember it. I'm not like these city folk with their damn instagrams and their twitter and what-have-you digital popularity contests.