Mated to My Fiancé’s Alpha King Brother

142 Chapter 142

Seraphina’s POV 1

“Ouch! Shit!”

The wrench slipped from my oily fingers and smacked me right in the shin. I hopped around on one foot like an idiot, clutching my leg.

“Language, city girl!” Caleb’s voice drifted out from under the truck hood, but I could hear him laughing.

“Oh, shut up!” I shot back, rubbing my bruised shin. “That actually hurt!”

“What hurt more? Your leg or your pride?”

I stuck my tongue out at the general direction of his voice, even though he couldn’t see me. “Both, thank you very much.”

Two weeks. Two whole weeks of grease under my fingernails, oil stains on my clothes, and tools that seemed determined to attack me.

My hands looked like I’d been wrestling with machinery–which, to be fair, I had been.

Gone were the perfectly manicured nails and soft skin. Now I had actual calluses. Real, honest–to–God calluses from real work. And

weirdly? I was kind of proud of them.

“Sera, you still alive over there?” Caleb poked his head out, blonde hair sticking up every which way, a smudge of black grease across his

cheek.

“Unfortunately.” I bent down to pick up the traitorous wrench. “This thing has it out for me, I swear.”

“The wrench isn’t the problem. You’re holding it wrong.”

“I am not!”

“Are too. He emerged fully from under the hood, wiping his hands on an already filthy rag. “Here, let me show you.”

Before I could protest, he was behind me, his arms coming around to guide my grip on the wrench. His chest pressed against my back,

warm and solid, and I caught a whiff of his scent–motor oil, soap, and something purely masculine.

“See? Like this, he murmured near my ear, his hands covering mine. “Don’t grip so tight. Let the tool do the work.”

My brain short–circuited for exactly three seconds. Then I jerked away from him like I’d been burned.

“Got it. Thanks. I’m good now.”

Caleb stepped back, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “You sure? Because your face is about as red as that fire engine we worked on

yesterday.”

“It’s hot in here,” I mumbled, turning back to the engine I’d been working on.

“Uh–huh.”

practically hear his grin. Smug

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work to

you wrestle with basic tools

grabbed a shop rag and threw

I was fighting a smile now

“Terribly charming, you mean.”

“Terribly full of yourself.”

phone rang, cutting through our banter. I moved to answer it, grateful for the

“Morrison’s Auto Repair.”

Is my car

Patterson, who brought us homemade cookies every time she came in. “Just finished up! Your

fluids. Everything

I’ll be by this afternoon to

“Perfect. See you then!”

to find Caleb watching me with an

“What?”

“It’s just… you’re

not

customers love you. You remember

Mr. Jameson troubleshoot his truck over the

self–conscious.

“You care. About the people, about doing good work. You belong here,

stopped. What was I supposed to

and comfortable and terrifying all at once. Then the shop bell

I said quickly, escaping to

a wave of homesickness

and Lily

five- year–olds chatted about. And Lily… God, Lily would be napping in her crib, or maybe playing with those colorful blocks

her.

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chest tightened. The numbers on the receipt

I told myself firmly. *You made this choice.

Or was I just a coward who ran away instead of

me look up. He was standing in the doorway between the garage and office, concern

“You okay?”

My voice came out too bright,