Once inside the supply room, I slammed the door and immediately turned and pressed her against it. Her hands came to the zipper at the front of my coveralls at my throat and fumbled for the tab.

Now, in that moment shut in the little room, surrounded by shelves of greasy cylinders, busted pistons, and an array of crankshafts, I admit I thought about hiking up her skirt, sliding into her sweet body, and taking her hard and fast against the door.

I thought about it. I did.

But I didn’t want to do that.

I wanted to marry this girl.

That was the truth of it. And maybe one day, after we’d been married for a while, I’d pull her in here and bend her over the table at the back and we’d have a real good time. Maybe we’d do it every Wednesday…when she was my wife.

But not now. Not yet. Not when I’m needing to be taken seriously and respected. That’s why, when I spotted the grease stain on the upper arm of her pretty top, most certainly left by my hand, I felt my engine cool and a good dose of sobriety chilled my veins.

I grabbed her hands before they could work the zipper of my coveralls down to my hips and brought them over her head. It was hard to think with her hands on me. It was also hard to think with her mouth doing its voodoo, so I bent my head to her neck and bit a spot on her shoulder. I took the opportunity to breathe her in and found this was a mistake if I wanted a clear head.

After placing one more kiss against her jaw, I lifted my head for some cooler air while trying to ignore her rapid pants of excitement and the beat of her heart against my ribs. We were pressed together knees to chest. I still held her wrists but I lowered them to her sides. My eyes were closed. I needed more than a minute, so I took it, and reminded myself that being shortsighted can ruin the long game.

Jess was the first to speak. “You’re really good at that.”

“At what?” I lifted my eyelids, careful to keep my stare affixed to the sobering dark stain on her shirt. I frowned when I saw there was more than one stain; she had streaks of grease everywhere I’d touched her.

“Kissing, touching me, making me hot.”

My mouth curved slightly at her honesty as I backed up a half step to see how dirty I’d made her. Jess had always been so honest, to a fault really. She was honest when it would have served her better to be guarded. She was so honest that I worried for her.

But for now I was grateful for this peculiarity in her character.

Knowing I had myself under control, and recognizing I was going to need to replace her entire outfit, I finally met her eyes and released her wrists. “Thanks, Jess.”

But her attention was on my mouth and her hands slipped back to my torso, gripping my jumpsuit like she didn’t want me to go too far. “We should do it again.”

I didn’t try to hide my smile. Rather I leaned one palm on the door behind her and placed the other possessively on her hip; her skirt was already ruined and I liked the feel of her body beneath my hand. “Sounds good to me.”

I kissed her nose. The bridge of it had always been covered with brown freckles, but they’d faded since she was a teenager. Standing close like we were, I could see them.

“When?” Her nails dug into my sides through my coveralls, her tone urgent.

“What are you doing tonight?” I smiled at her pushiness. “Want to go see a movie?”

Jessica blinked, her eyebrows pulling together in a small frown. “Movie? No. Not unless it’s an empty movie theater.”

“Jess…” I shook my head, and searched her face to see if she was joking. She wasn’t. My neck itched again and the beginnings of a cold uncertainty trickled down my back. “Jess, there are lots of good movies playing now. Let me take you out to dinner.”

She stared at me. I stared back, waiting. I could see her mind working, but what she was thinking I had no idea. Her fingers relaxed, letting me go, but the rest of her body soon stiffened. Then I saw a flash of pensiveness in her brown eyes. I didn’t like how she’d grown distant while I still held her, but I held on anyway.

“I can’t tonight.” She swallowed, her eyes moved between mine, then away; she looked increasingly agitated. “Claire and I have plans. We’re going to drink wine.”

My eyes narrowed and my blood pressure steadily increased the longer we stood there; me touching her, but Jessica was already far away. “Jess…”

“Yes?” Her voice was weak.

I cupped her jaw and cheeks, forcing her to look at me and leaving smudges on her skin. “In case you haven’t caught on yet, I’d like to take you out.”

She lifted her hands, covered one of mine and held on to the wrist of the other. I was happy to see some of the rising panic recede as I continued. “I want to go to a place that serves food, where neither of us have to do the clean up or the dishes, and talk to you.”

“What do you want to talk about?”

“I don’t care, I honestly don’t. As long as I’m talking to you.”

This won me a quick smile and it went a long way toward easing my cold doubt. She bit her lip, chewed on it, her big brown eyes even bigger than normal. Then she nodded.

And I finally breathed, releasing her. “Good.”

She nodded again, her eyes lighting up, her pretty mouth slanting with a roundabout smile. “Good,” she repeated, then pressed her lips to mine for a fast kiss. “This is good.”

I nodded too, her sudden happiness like aloe to a sunburn, and then proclaimed the understatement of the century. “I’m glad.”

“Okay then, it’s a date. Duane Winston and Jessica James are going on a date.”

I laughed because she was too adorable, and her words solidified something I’d wanted for years; finally the angry hard-on in my boxers didn’t feel so pointless.

“Yes. That’s what’s happening.” I rubbed my nose along hers, gave her another soft kiss. “The only question is when and where?”

“Oh…” Her gaze turned hazy, unfocused, and drifted over my shoulder. “I could pack a picnic for Saturday afternoon.”

I thought about that, about not seeing her the rest of this week. I decided it was probably too soon to say I’d miss her if I didn’t see her between now and Saturday.

“Saturday is good. Let’s do Saturday,” I said. “And I’ll pack the picnic.” I’d been thinking about this for a long time and I’d decided years ago that—if I ever got the chance—I’d take her out proper, pay for dinner—even if it was a picnic.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.”

“Fine. Let me bring drinks at least.” Her hand sought mine, entwined our fingers, and squeezed.

The simple movement and connection was dizzying, and it caught me off guard. I opened my mouth to respond but found I’d forgotten what she’d just said.

Her eyes flickered between mine, her small smile still in place. Obviously she mistook my speechlessness because she soothed, “Don’t worry, I know you prefer Guinness to Budweiser.” Then she dropped her voice to a sweet whisper and leaned a bit closer. “Your secret is safe with me.”

***

I grinned at Jessica James’s backside as she walked away because she had a big old brown grease stain on the left side of her skirt where I’d palmed her ass.

“Damn, Duane, you got big hands.” Cletus sauntered up next to me, wiping his own hands on a rag.

My grin became a frown and I shot my brother a look. “Don’t be looking at Jess’s ass.”

“I’m not looking at her ass. I remind you sir, she is my calculus teacher.” Cletus lifted his chin toward Jessica’s departing form. “I’m looking at the palm print on her ass.”

I returned my eyes to my girl just as she twisted at the waist and sent me a shy grin over her shoulder, setting my heart off on a goose chase.

Jessica hadn’t cared two nickels when I’d pointed out the hand marks to her just before she’d left. When I suggested I give her one of my clean shirts to cover the evidence of our groping, she looked at me like I was crazy.