“For sure.” Wade grabbed a handful of black-streaked rags from around Noah’s feet and stuffed them into the glovebox. “Bit of maintenance yesterday . . . First time she’d been out on the open road.”
Their smiles bypassed one another, and Wade pulled back, a waft of citrus and engine grease tickling Noah’s nose. “How’s your foot?”
“Fine. A little tender.”
“Did you change the dressing?”
“Exactly as you told me to.” He turned to Zach and introduced himself; Zach returned the gesture, gaze ping-ponging between them and landing insistently on Noah.
Noah ignored the burning curiosity in that gaze and turned his attention to Wade. He seemed more . . . substantial somehow against the car’s cream interior. His hair appeared darker, his skin more tan, the tips of his blunt fingernails greasier. The rough edges had definite . . . appeal.
He pressed on the gas and cool air swept an awkward silence into the car. Before long, Wade began to fill it.
He wasn’t a particularly good singer. But he knew every single lyric.
Noah swallowed a wince and threw Zach a warning look. He was clearly bursting to comment. His face reddened with the effort of keeping it in.
Wade’s volume increased as he got to the chorus.
Zach’s eyes pleaded. Noah gave him a firm shake of the head and a don’t you dare look.
On, and on, and on.
At last John Mayer faded out and Wade finished, grinning. Noah returned the smile.
“That—” Zach began.
Noah reached back between the seats with a warning finger-wag.
Zach batted him away.
Wade raised an inquisitive brow as “Teenage Dirtbag” got started. A fan of noughties pop, it seemed.
He inched up the volume and sang again.
Zach clutched his fingers and squeezed with desperation. He lasted another maybe ten seconds.
“Sorry, Wade,” Zach burst out. “I have this nasty headache, could we . . .”
Wade immediately turned off the music. “Of course.”
Noah glared at his brother, who mouthed “sorry” and didn’t look remotely sorry at all.
“Do you have any water?” Zach asked with an exaggerated rub to his temples.
Noah produced a bottle from his borrowed tote bag. “You’re welcome.”
“You think of everything.” Zach handed it back to him. “My fingers are too greasy, can you open?”
Noah met Zach’s eyes. They’d be having a wee chat about this later.
His brother responded with a you love me grin.
Noah twisted the slippery lid to no avail. He lifted the edge of his shirt and tried again. “Wash your hands after pizza next time.”
“Probably smart. Probably won’t.”
Wade glanced over, grin slackening as his gaze dropped to Noah’s exposed stomach. He jerked his focus back to the road, re-gripping the wheel.
An unexpected bolt of electricity shot right to Noah’s cock, and he fumbled another attempt at opening the bottle.
He shouldn’t read into Wade’s reaction. He’d looked away so fast to give Noah privacy. No other reason.
Noah wrung the lid, over and over, and finally it came off with a burst of arcing water, soaking a stripe across Noah’s thighs.
Wade started coughing.
Well done, Noah. Sexual simulation complete.
He returned the water to Zach and turned his flushed face into the rushing breezes.
At the next light, Noah peeked over, catching Wade looking away again. Stop imagining all the sexy things Wade is absolutely not thinking.
Noah rubbed his palms over his thighs. Today Wade’s t-shirt read: Oil grease? How about Man Sparkle. It was cute.
Noah knew better than to assume Wade was gay based on that.
At least, he should have known better.
He battled and lost to a hopeful zing. “You’re a mechanic?”
“Yep. Fairly sure when they pop me into an old folks’ home, I’ll be the crazy guy half under the bed.” He laughed, shifting gears. “I love being under things.”
Noah shifted and averted his eyes. “Uh . . . sounds like you’ve found your calling.”
“What about you?”
“Do I love being under things? Not really.”
Zach piped up from the backseat. “He loves to be on top of things, though.”
Noah burned.
“Super organised, my bro.”
Wade frowned, pink tinting his cheeks. “I can imagine you being . . .” He cleared his throat. “Very well organised. But I meant the sanctuary. Are birds your calling?”
“Absolutely. Birds are fascinating creatures. Such hugely varying personalities, from shy, to curious, to cocky.” Noah grinned. “The penguins I work with have been through life-changing ordeals, and the feeling when they can return to the wild? Unparalleled.”
This time Wade held his gaze a moment before returning his attention to the road. “I hope they all live happily ever after.”
“I hope so too.”
Wade rubbed his jaw. “Do you ever see them again?”
“We don’t track them, but I love spending time at the colony where we release them. There’s a wonderful walking tour run by Scout Little Penguins.” Noah paused. “If, ah, you were interested.”
“Guys?” Zach said. “Noah. We passed the turn-off.”
Wade made a U-turn and in five minutes they pulled up outside Elliot’s place.
