“Have you lost your damn mind? Gimme that!” Pops reaches for his beer, giving me a quick swat on the head.
“Hey!”
“Never mess with a man’s beer. Have I taught you nothing?” My dad gives me a grin. “What the hell were you looking for anyway?”
“Drugs,” I deadpan.
“Har har. Mark my words. Love always comes and bites you when you least expect it, Chance.”
“Sure it does, Pops.” I stand, shifting my way into the kitchen.
“Where you headed?”
“Making you a coffee. We gotta sober your ass up before family dinner.”
“Just you wait, son. Just you wait.”
Why do I feel like I’ve just been cursed by my old man?
More importantly, why did an image of that sexy Nurse Hayes flash before my eyes?
Chapter 6
Faith
“Shit, shit, shit. Mare, I’m sorry I’m late again.” I cringe as I make it to the nurses’ station, late for the second time in two days.
I never did call the mechanic, despite Mare’s insistence.
“That’s it. I’m calling my guy,” she says. “You cannot be late again. Doctor Strickland was just here asking where you were.” My face falls hearing the chief of the ER was looking for me.
Mare raises her hand. “Relax, I covered for you. But this shit ends.” She grabs her phone, taps a few times, and places it to her ear.
“Hey, Stephan, it’s Mare. I need a favour—a rush job for a coworker. Think you can make time?” There’s a pause, she tells him what the car’s been doing, and I watch as she nods along, adds a few “yeses” and “uh-huhs” here and there. “You’re the best. I’ll tell her. Thank you, bye.”
Mare’s smile is victorious. “You, my friend, are in luck. They can get your car in this afternoon and have it ready by end of day as long as it’s nothing too major.”
“That’s amazing news, thank you. So, they’ll do it while I work?” I ask, like an idiot.
“I did try to tell you that, oh, seven hundred times.”
Why did I wait so long to do this again? “I know, I know. I really so suck. Give me the address and I’ll swing by on my lunch and drop it off,” I say, opening up the Notes app on my phone.
“No need, they’ll be by in twenty to pick it up.”
“What? No.”
“Yeah, it’s why they’re the best. Most of us here use Second Chance because they cater to our hectic shift schedules, going so far as to pick up and drop off our vehicles from the hospital parking lot. Now, go grab your keys. I told Stephan you’d meet him in the lobby.”
“Okay, perfect.” I start heading to the locker room, but stop in my tracks. “How will I know who he is?”
“He’ll be the one with the Second Chance Garage logo on his shirt.”
I nod, and hurry to grab my keys.
***
Stepping off the elevator and taking a few steps out into the lobby, I stop short.
It’s him.
Mr. Make-You-Lose-Your-Breath.
Mr. Deadly Attractive.
Mr. Panty Melter himself.
And he’s wearing a Second Chance Garage T. It’s faded grey and has seen better days, yet on him it’s mouth-wateringly tight and fits in all the right places.
Thankfully, I do better this time than the last time we met. “Mr. McKidd, right? Nice to see you again. How’s the hand?” My gaze travels down his tatted-up and muscular forearm to the bandage on his right hand.
“It’s Chance, and yes, so far, so good. Healing up nicely, thanks to you.” I feel my face heat at his compliment. Great, he has me blushing.
Shit. It’s happening again. Code yellow: we have a disaster in the making here.
“Here are the keys. Thank you so much for coming to pick it up, talk about great service,” I say, meeting his brown eyes and noticing how they’ve darkened as he takes me in. I feel an electric pulse when his fingers touch mine and wrap around the keys.
“You have no idea. I always make sure my services are the best,” he practically growls, and it sends a swarm of butterflies rioting in my stomach at his implied meaning.
“I bet you do,” I whisper as I bite my lip, practically suppressing a moan. This handsome bastard.
“Least we can do for you guys. You work hard, and are often under appreciated. It’s our way of helping out where we can, showing a little gratitude for the long hours and the rest of the crap I’m sure you deal with all shift.”
“Wow, that’s very thoughtful and much appreciated. You’re right, there is a lot of crap to deal with, especially pain-in-the-ass patients who think like Canadian handyman Red Green and opt for duct tape over medical attention.”
Chance raises his hand in mock surrender while laughing. “You got me. But my motto is I never miss a deadline, so I had no choice. Couldn’t make my client wait a day longer than promised.”
I simply roll my eyes.
“Okay, before I get outta your hair, tell me again what’s up. Steph filled me in a bit about what it’s doing.”
I do. We stand there for another ten minutes with me gabbing away and imitating broken car noises, him nodding, looking at me like I’m the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen. A look I could get used to.
“That’s pretty much it. Hopefully, it’s fixable,” I relent, as I finally wrap it up.
“I’m pretty sure she’ll live to see another day,” Chance assures me, that devilish smile in full swing. “Why don’t you give me your cell, and I’ll text you what we discover and how much you’re looking at for repairs. And—fingers crossed—I can have it back to you by the time you’re ready to leave?”
After giving him my number, and telling him where the car’s parked, we stand face-to-face, smiling like two loons.
Hours later, when I’m back in the ER, arms deep in everything from sutures and stab wounds to broken bones and drunken vomit, I still can’t stop smiling nor can I stop thoughts of Chance from sneaking in.
Chapter 7
Chance
I can’t stop thinking about Faith.
Her smile.
The way her eyes lit up when she looked at me.
Can’t stop thinking about what I’d find underneath those sexy-as-fuck scrubs she wears.
Adjusting my cock, I reach for my phone and tap out a text to the little minx.
Me: Hey, looks like it’s the whole car. It needs to be replaced.
I don’t expect her to reply right away, knowing she’s likely busy, so I’m surprised to see three grey bubbles.
Faith: Oh no!
Me: Kidding, I was able to track down an old carburetor that should do the trick. I can have it ready in a few hours.
I bark out a laugh when I see her response. Too easy, this will be fun.
Faith: Wow, that really is some fast service! Thank you.
Me: It might be fast, but I promise it’s always done right.
I imagine her face as she reads. I bet she looks sexy as hell all flushed.
Faith: Always? Promising. Maybe that should be your new motto?