Beau

By ten in the morning, the garage was a furnace. I knew Silas was back under that Ford, but I also knew his head wasn’t in the work. I could feel the tension the moment I pulled into the bay.

I didn’t wear white today. I chose a black silk shirt, unbuttoned just far enough to show the pale, smooth skin he’d spent the night marking. I didn’t go to the waiting room. I grabbed a stool from the corner and set it down right at the edge of his bay, giving him a front-row seat.

Silas ...