I take a swig of coffee, then another for good measure. Metal snaps against wood as I pull the BMW keys from beneath the clip. I toss the clipboard on my toolbox and head toward the bay door, grabbing a seat protector and disposable floor mat along the way. Before I’ve taken two strides across the gravel, a red tow truck pulls into the lot with a compact sedan on board.

“Morning.” I nod at Frank as he hops out from the driver’s side of the carrier truck. “Is this the no-start?”

“Yep.” He nods toward the truck, as the passenger door opens. “She’s new in town, so I recommended you.”

“Thanks.” I lean in while clapping him on the shoulder. “Why didn’t you also recommend she send her car, but stay home?”

He laughs. “I did. She wasn’t interested.” His eyes twinkle as a woman exits the cab of his truck. “You might be glad about that, after you meet her. A real looker. And no wedding ring.”

Shit. As if Cam and Shelby hounding me isn’t bad enough. I want to find wherever it’s written that a widower has to find a new woman, and set that damn book on fire.

One look at the sedan’s owner tells me I can forget about the matches and gasoline. Oh, she’s a looker, all right. Just because I don’t want to be with another woman, doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate them. I’d have to be blind not to notice this one. Pretty face, friendly smile, nice figure. But she’s younger. Cam’s age, not mine.

Since Shelby’s not here, maybe Cam should come out and do the talking. He’s never had trouble meeting women, but he hasn’t shown any serious interest in one since his mother passed. I’d bet every last tool I own that those things are directly related. Fair’s fair. If my son can butt into my personal life, I can do the same.

“Dashboard lit up like a Christmas tree, then the car died. Wouldn’t boost for me,” Frank says, as the attractive brunette walks toward us.

“Got it.”

He takes my comment for the dismissal it is, tipping his hat at the woman as he heads to his truck.

“Give me a sec to send someone out,” I tell the customer standing in front of me. “Cam can take your information and give you a hand.”

“Wait.” She halts my getaway by reaching for my arm. “Are you Granger?”

I look down at her delicate fingers, curled over my bare forearm. Aside from my daughter’s hugs, it’s the first female contact I’ve had since my wife died. And it’s…

Gone. “Sorry,” she says, obviously mistaking my expression for something negative, and yanking her hand away.

“No need to be.” The smile I give might as well be plastic. Better that than gawking at her like a creepy, old fart who thinks a random, generic touch is some sort of subtle come-on. “And, yes, I’m Granger.”

“Great.” She extends her hand again, this time offering it for me shake.

Which I do, because I’m polite and professional. Not because I want to feel her warm, soft fingers on my skin again.

“Dove Ellis. I’m new to the area.”

“Dove? That’s a pretty name.”

“Thanks.” She takes the compliment in stride, though the sparkle in her eyes tells me there’s more commentary going on internally.

And, damn, if I don’t want to hear every word of it.

“I moved from Toronto a couple weeks ago. Sid Morton is my neighbor. He told me you’re the only person who should be looking under my hood.” A throaty little laugh leaves her rosy-pink lips. “And, yes, those were his exact words.”

“Sounds like something he’d say, and then think he’s the funniest guy around for saying it.” It appears I have another nosy parker in my life, only this one’s name is Sid.

“He does like to crack a lot of jokes.”

I’m nodding along, staring at her mouth as it curves into a smile. I can’t stop, even though I know I look like an idiot.

“So…” she says, laughing lightly while glancing at our joined hands.

I release the hand I’ve been shaking continuously for at least twenty seconds. “Sorry about that. My mind’s always on half a dozen things when we first open.”

“Oh, of course.” She crosses her arms over her chest, an action that pushes her breasts upward, giving me yet another thing to avoid ogling.

I need to get Cam out here. Retreat to the safe depths of the shop, before I do something more foolish than I already have. Since Cam just took off for a test drive of his eight o’clock appointment, looks like I’m on the hook to talk to Dove. Something I should have no problem doing. I’ve talked to thousands of people in my thirty years running the shop.

“The tow truck driver filled me in about your car,” I say, forcing my eyes north of the row of tiny buttons that ends at the valley of Dove’s cleavage.

She nods. “He said it’s probably the alternator.”

“Sounds like it, but we’ll test everything once we have an opportunity to bring it into the garage. We’re booked solid this morning, so that might not happen until after lunch. I hope my daughter told you that when you called.”

“She did. I knew I’d have to leave my car for the day, at least. That’s no problem, I work from home.”

I don’t ask why she bothered to come down with the tow truck. Lots of people can’t let their car go, they worry it’ll end up at the wrong shop. I’m sure that’s all it is with this woman.

Dove uncrosses her arms, slides her fingertips into the pockets of some very tight jeans, and shifts her weight to one leg. The position accentuates the curve of her left hip. It’s jutted out like a handle, tempting me to grab it.

What the hell is with me this morning? I haven’t had thoughts like this since Eline died. And I’ve certainly never had them about any woman other than the one love of my life. My body’s telling me it’s overdue for release, that’s all. I don’t need a woman for that. Just a few extra minutes in the shower.

I nod and gesture toward the office door with the sweep of an arm. “I’ll grab your phone number inside. Shelby will call you with an estimate before we do any work. She’s out dropping someone off, but she can give you a lift home when she gets back.”

“Sounds good, thank you.” She smiles while brushing past me, close enough that her arm grazes mine.

Opening the door creates a vacuum that circulates whatever perfume she’s wearing. The light, floral scent fills my nose, and like a damn fool, I inhale deeply—an action that doesn’t go unnoticed.

She pauses in the small vestibule, bringing us into close proximity. Very close. “I can wait outside if my perfume bothers you.”

The phone is ringing in the office. I should be hustling in there to pick it up, but I’m frozen, nearly chest-to-chest with this beautiful woman I just got caught smelling. It’s not the embarrassment that’s holding me in place, it’s her. The hazel eyes looking straight into mine, the pulse beating in her neck, the rise and fall of her breasts. And her scent… God help me, I can’t get enough of it.

“It’s fine. You’re—good.” There’s a huskiness to my voice I couldn’t mask if I tried, so I leave it at that.

“Okay,” she says. But she doesn’t just turn and go into the office. She pulls her bottom lip into her mouth, releasing it slowly as she smiles. She lifts her hand and places it on my arm again, sending a streak of electricity racing to parts of my body I thought were dead. “I’m glad my neighbor sent me down here to meet you.”

“So am I.” The words are out of my mouth before my brain has a chance to kick in. Shit. Time to get a hold on myself, shift back to mechanic mode, where I belong. I edge backward, forcing her hand to fall away. “We’re always happy to help our customers. I’m sure we’ll have you back on the road soon.”

Her smile falters, then she turns and walks into the office ahead of me, not saying another word.

Which is what I wanted. So, why the hell does it feel like I just made a huge mistake?