Love Arranged (Lakefront Billionaires, #3)(5)

Have you learned nothing?

I blame my lack of impulse control on his proximity. It’s disarming, being this close to him after months of avoiding each other, so my head is a mess.

I try to refocus on his actions. The ease in which he twists knobs and assesses engine parts with his phone’s flashlight distracts me temporarily, only for me to become entranced by how his bespoke suit bunches up around his muscles when he bends over to get a better look at something.

The view of his backside…I swear the man’s physique could’ve inspired Renaissance sculptors with a body like his.

His voice startles me, but it’s his narrowed eyes that make me want to die of humiliation.

Shit. My face turns hot.

What did he say?

When I don’t reply fast enough, Lorenzo raises a single brow. “When’s the last time you got an oil change?”

Oh.

I’m quick to look down at the metal stick in his hands. “Uh…let me see.”

I take the opportunity to add some distance and get a hold of myself. It’s a valiant effort that’s ruined when I accidentally brush against his back with my shoulder, sending sparks down my arm.

He bristles at the contact, adding to my embarrassment as I dart around him to check the sticker on my windshield.

I climb back out of the car with the grace of a newborn foal. “Looks like I went in May.”

“Of this year?”

I shake my head. “Last.”

“I guessed as much.” His lips, which look deceptively firm, mash together, and I’m reminded of what it felt to have his mouth pressed to mine.

The way my body tingled as soon as we touched.

I’m overwhelmed with an urge to flee him and the memory, but then he beckons me closer with a quick flick of his hand. “Come take a look.”

With shaky legs, I step forward until I’m close enough to smell the crisp, clean scent of his cologne. I’m a glutton for punishment, so I take another sniff because why the hell not? It’s not like things can get any more awkward between us.

“See this?” He holds up the stick with tiny markings.

Even with contacts, I need to squint to read it. “What am I looking at?”

He points at one line with an F. “This is where your oil should be.” His finger travels down the stick until it nearly reaches the end. “And this is where it is now.”

“I’m guessing that’s not great.”

“Unless your goal is to kill your engine, no. It’s not.”

I look up at the sky and pray for patience when Lorenzo shifts the stick so I can get a better look.

“See how it’s dark?” he asks.

“A bit hard to miss.” The bead of oil at the end of the stick is nearly the same shade as his eyes, hair, and today’s suit. He skipped out on wearing a tie, but I imagine it would match his doom-and-gloom aesthetic.

“That means you need to get it changed, along with your serpentine belt, which looks like shit, by the way.”

“I knew you loved collecting cars, but I had no idea you knew how to fix them too.” The comment slips out. Typically I pretend we hardly know each other, especially around my family, but I forgot myself.

He puts the metal stick back where it belongs before he stands to his full height and assesses his stained hands. “Do you have a rag or something?”

I pluck his fancy pocket square from his jacket and hand it over. “This looks like it could work.”

He grabs it with a fake smile. I ignore the way the tips of my fingers tingle when his brush against mine, just like I ignore the small jolt in my chest when he stares at his hand too.

He wipes engine grease from his well-manicured fingers and tosses the stained silk square into the trash bin next to us before asking, “When’s the last time you changed the battery?”

“Recently.”

“Are we talking in the current decade?” His smile grows, along with the pain in my chest. Countless times I’ve seen Vote Vittori lawn signs, street banners, and local television ads promoting his mayoral campaign, so I should be used to it.

My gaze drops to his mouth before I look back at the engine. “I’m going to grab my phone and call the mechanic. He can come out and take a look.”

“The shop’s closed already.”

“Great,” I mumble to myself.

He shuts my hood. “I can give you a ride home.”

“I’d rather walk.”

“In the middle of a heat wave?”

I give his suit a quick pass. “I don’t see you struggling.”

“This is nothing compared to Vegas.”

“Huh. And here I thought you spent the last two decades in hell.”

“Sure felt like it sometimes.” His light tone doesn’t match the dark, intriguing look in his eyes.

“Hm,” I reply while chanting we don’t care enough about him to ask what he means in my head.

“Do you want a ride or not?” He pulls out his key ring from the interior pocket of his jacket. “I don’t have a lot of time before my next meeting.”

I stare at him without saying anything.

“I’ll even call Manny on the way and ask him to come here first thing tomorrow morning.”

My brows rise. “I wasn’t aware that you’re on a first-name basis with the town’s mechanic.”