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nothing. Ever.
    I was still thinking about this fact when I heard a snort and looked over to see a set of rubber handled wrenches, with the 3/8 already attached.
      “Thank you.” I looked up. It was the hot guy from the booth today, my “do you know me?” man.
    “You again? You don’t give up, do you?” I shook my head, “No, I still don’t remember you, but since you were kind enough to help me out with the wrench, and none of these ‘ladies’ here would help me, maybe we can talk after I finish this.” I figured I owed him as much, helping me out such as he did.
    He laughed, shook his head, and stood back to watch, like the rest of them, to see me at my latest attempt at “pinup car show”. Again, I took off the petticoat and climbed under the engine as far as possible. This time, though, I felt strong hands guiding me and securing the car as I went. That was nice. Being crushed by a car wasn’t high on my “ways I want to die” list. Maybe climbing Everest, or running with the bulls; even fighting the crowds on the sample day at Valentino. All of that came before being crushed.
    Because his hands were already on me, helping me to get somewhat better access to that illusive starter, I decided to go balls in. I mean, I really did need help and he was already there, already involved, so what could it hurt to ask.
    “Um, can you give me a hand here?” I asked, muffled by the car I was currently lying under.
    I heard a deep, rumbly, panty-melting “yes”, and shivered despite the heat in the building.
    Damn, how did I miss that voice while we were at the booth? Refocusing on the job, I continued.  “I’m gonna need you to help me get this starter out- it’s a two person job, I think it’s split and the screws are broken; I can only turn the wrench so far from the bottom and need you to finish from the top.”
    I was expecting laugher because of my top and bottom comments but none came, instead, he just mumbled a deep “no problem” and I heard the wrench crank. Every once in a while our hands would touch and I swear I felt a zap that had nothing to do with the engine or the manifold. Then, I saw his face and I understood what my nana had always meant when she said time stood still. Because it did. I don’t know what continued going on around me, but I couldn’t have cared less. I was too focused on his amazing eyes and dark, slightly unkempt hair. And the tattoos snaking their way up his neck... I suddenly wanted to lick them. Badly. Like, my mouth drooled. He said something (I couldn’t tell what, I was in my own world… heaven to be precise).
    I looked up at him real hard this time, since he wasn’t going anywhere for a while, as we worked to get the starter out. He chuckled. Apparently I was completely zoned out. I studied him under my lashes but nothing came to me. I truly didn’t know him. He was hot though, Meghan had that right.
    We finally got the starter out and I showed my dad and the steel had indeed split. Unheard of. He walked off, mumbling something about “the fucking starter” and left me, alone, with this new, handsome as fuck, stranger.
    He crooked his head to look at me, “You really don’t know who I am?” he asked, again.
    I don’t know what came over me, maybe it was hanging all day with Meghan, but I was suddenly angry. I mean, did he think I was stupid and that asking the same question over and over would finally trigger me remember him? Ugh. I felt the snarky comment coming before I could control it, “God, now that you ask again , it finally came to me…. Yes I do! You’re the jackass who thinks his cock should make him unforgettable. Sorry, not that girl. So no, I don’t remember you.” I spewed out. I then turned and got to cleaning up my workspace in silence, alone. Perfection.
    I swear, Meghan would have been so proud of me. Or not. She wanted me to get laid, not run them off. But damn, I couldn’t seem to control my mouth right now. I turned to leave,