Chapter 3

Jamie

"Oi!"

That's the only warning I got as two perfectly manicured hands reached for me under the car. None of the boys had stepped out to go to the local nail salon, so I knew it had to be Millie.

"One second!" I said, frantically tightening up a loose nut before I was yanked out. "Goddammit, Millie!"

"What's the matter?" she said with a grin. "Thought it was one of your ‘boyfriends?'"

"You got a boyfriend, Mousey?" One of the older guys I worked with, Ken, ambled over, ready to ruffle my hair. I'd earned the nickname due to my light brown hair and because I was quiet as a mouse when I first started my apprenticeship.

Not now.

I jabbed my elbow into his ribs, and he let out a great oof, much to everyone else's amusement.

"Don't mess with The Mouse." Clinton was much closer to my age and he wiped his hands on a rag as he smiled at the two of us. "Especially when she's with Amelia. The Mouse and the?—"

"Do not finish that sentence," Millie said with a growl. "You're going to compare me to some animal, thinking it a compliment, but instead it's just going to be sexist and annoying and then I'll have to nut punch you."

"At least you'll be touching my nuts," Clinton replied with a broad grin. He got a series of cackles from the peanut gallery that had formed. Work was always set aside when our boss' hot sister walked in the door, if only because it riled Brock up. "Though I'd prefer?—"

"You're a fuck boy," she said, raising one finger. "You deliver sleazy lines like a fuck boy. You've got that whole fuck boy smirk going on and as I've said every other time I've walked in here, I don't do fuck boys."

"I'd change for you," he replied, edging closer, but that was the moment the office door slammed open.

"Why is everyone standing around…?"

Brock's voice trailed away as he stared at the lot of us, his brows drawing down as he saw his sister standing there. When I was a brand new apprentice, I'd found Brock intensely intimidating, but now…? I tried very hard not to notice the size of those thick forearms, the way he crossed them as he leaned on the railing. Brock always seemed completely in control, just as he did now. Under his steady gaze, the guys moved away, knowing instinctively they needed to go back to work and he hadn't said a word.

Making me wonder what it'd take to shatter that steely resolve.

He's your boss , I reminded myself for the millionth time, which made him completely and utterly unavailable, but if that was the only obstacle to him seeing me as a woman, I'd have left the garage years ago. No, I was little Jamie Kingston, forever his kid sister's best friend. When we were still in high school, he was starting his own business.

"Amelia, what are you doing here?"

"My bestie sent up a SOS first thing this morning and I came over as soon as I got the message." She looked at me then. "So your mum is coming down? Do I need to head her off at the pass? Tell her there's a special wedding expo across town and let you make your escape?"

"You getting married, Mouse?" Clinton said, raising an eyebrow. "Where's my invite?"

"You just want to drink for free on my dime," I said, shooting him a baleful look. "And anyway, I'm not getting hitched. From what I've seen of mankind here…" I waved my hand in the air. "That's enough to turn me off for life. It's just I'm my mum's only daughter and she really, really wants to see me get married."

"Want a pretend bridegroom to walk down the aisle with?" Clinton said, stepping closer and wrapping my arm around his. The others laughed as he marched us forward a couple of steps, right before I yanked my arm free. "I'm available, at a price. I'll even throw in the wedding night for free."

"Why do I think you say that to all the girls?" Millie said with a shake of her head, "but…"

Oh no, whatever idea was percolating in her head, I knew I wasn't going to like it.

"No, Millie," I said. "Nope, nope, no way."

"You don't even know what I'm going to suggest!"

The dangerous sparkle in her eye made clear I didn't want to.

"It's fine. I'm fine. Now…" I looked up again, feeling Brock's gaze on me. It was almost tangible, like a hand on my shoulder, directing me back to work. "I need to keep going on the XB if I'm going to get this service finished today. We can chat after knockoff time."

"At Mum's and Dad's." She poked her finger in my direction. "Today's my day off, so it's compulsory family fun time. Come and have dinner. I know the boys are annoying as fuck, but Mum cooks a damn fine roast. We can work out what the hell you're gonna do over roast potatoes and gravy."

Millie's mum was an amazing cook and my stomach growled audibly in response. I flushed as I slapped a hand down, trying to silence it.

"Fine," I said, then glanced back at Brock. Gary was already peeved about me servicing the XB, so I needed to show that I was worthy of that honour. "I'll meet you at your parents place at what…?"

"Six," she replied and then her focus shifted to up the stairs. "You too, brother dear. That's why I'm really here. Mum said she's been trying to call you?—"

"I'll be there."

That's all he said, Brock famously being a man of few words, before stomping back into his office.

"Looks like Rowdy's got the shits," Gary said. Australian nicknames often involved calling someone the thing they were the opposite of. "We better get back to work. Need any help, Jamie? I know those nuts can be tight on the XB…"

"Catch you at six," Millie said with a cheeky grin, waving as Gary steered me back towards the car to ‘show me' how things needed to be done.

Hours later and the car was given back to Mr Henderson and even Gary told him I'd done a thorough job. Under his expert tutelage, of course. I didn't roll my eyes, which I think deserved to be congratulated, instead cleaning my hands in the sink, ready to go home and get changed.

"So I'll see you at Mum's and Dad's?"

I dropped the nail brush with a clatter, looking up to see Brock had appeared. We'd all said that at some point he needed to wear a bell, because the guy moved like a cat.

And was as intense as one.

He stared at me with eyes so pale brown they were almost gold, waiting for an answer, and he wouldn't look away until he had one, that I knew from experience. I smiled because he wasn't, those full lips pursing from behind his beard.

"Um, yeah… Just gonna go home and have a shower, put on some clean clothes." My little chuckle seemed to fall flat, his only shift in expression a slight creasing of his brows. "Gotta scrub up nice for your mum's lamb roast."

"You always look nice."

He said that and walked away, not waiting for a response or anything and that had me letting out a sigh. I have no idea why Brock kept me on after my apprenticeship. Some of the older fellas had taken it upon themselves to talk me through what would happen when I was let go. At the time, there were too many staff for the jobs we were getting. They'd talked to me about which owners were good bosses and which to avoid, but right when I'd braced myself to talk to Brock about it, he'd turned around and offered me a job. If the rest of the guys were surprised, none were more than me. Some of the other mechanics had moved on and Brock had obviously done something about advertising because jobs started flooding in, keeping all of us more than busy, but…

I had to wonder why.

He barely spoke to me, would rarely look my way, and if he did, it was with that weird stare. Other girls sighed when they saw my boss, talking about the kind of office romance they'd initiate when they saw the breadth of his shoulders stretching the seams of his flannel shirts, the tattoos that swirled up his forearms and peeked out the top of his shirt, but me? My fingers might twitch, wanting to open one button, then another, following the trail of tattoos, but I'd have traded that opportunity for some understanding of what was going on in Brock's head. Did he keep me around out of loyalty to his sister or…?

I knew I wouldn't get an answer to that, so I dried my hands and then went home, rushing up the stairs to have a long, hot shower, then get dressed in something a whole lot cleaner. I set my work clothes to wash while I was out, then drove over to the McDonald house.

"Jamie!" Mrs. McDonald (call me Heather) rushed forward as soon as I walked in the door. "How are you, darling!" She clasped me in a big hug, her tiny frame able to squish me all too effectively before she held me at arm's length. "Looking gorgeous as ever. So did you bring a pair of bathers over? The weather's just started to warm up and the boys are making the most of it."

Brock was never one of the boys. Heather had struggled to have more kids after him, it took medical intervention and some years to have further children, and the fertility drugs she'd been given had produced both Millie and the twins, Hayden and Hunter. Millie was the youngest, being Heather's last attempt to have a girl.

Heather smiled slowly.

"You could join them if you like? Millie's just grabbing some carrots from the garden for me."

"Here they are." Millie strolled in with a basket full of produce under her arm, dropping it into the sink before turning on the water to scrub the dirt from the vegetables. "And we can't go swimming. We've got planning to do."

"God, if this is more of that juvenile pranking—" Heather said, sucking in a breath, but Millie just grinned.

"Not this time, Mum. Well…" She glanced up at me. "We won't be pranking anyone in our family at least."

"So what now?" Heather got the potato peeler and a large bowl out, but her focus was entirely trained on us. "What've you two got yourselves into this time?"

Before Millie could answer, the sliding door was wrenched open and wet feet slapped down on the tiled floor.

"Mum, where are the towels at?"

Heather looked up sharply, then rushed forward.

"For goodness sakes! You're getting water all over the floor, and the towels are in the same place they've been since you were knee high to a grasshopper."

"Yeah?"

Hayden, or was it Hunter, looked up then, realising he had an audience. Hunter, definitely. He caught the lot of us staring and shot us his trademark crooked smile. Half the girls at school would've expired on the spot at the sight of that back in the day. Hayden edged closer, looking at his brother in irritation, but that all smoothed away as he saw us.

"Oh, hey, Jamie," Hayden said with a little wave.

The two of them looked like a stereotype of a golden Aussie beach bum, which was why they had done a little modelling. All that tan skin, well defined muscles, and cheekbones that looked like they'd been formed with the flat of a knife? Yeah, they photographed real well.

"And hello to you, sister dear," Millie snarked before pausing. Not to glare at her brothers while their mother fussed, producing towels and throwing them at the boys, nor at me when she turned to stare my way. The carrots were dumped in the sink, the water still running as she backed away, grabbing a bottle of wine and a couple of glasses.

"Where are you off to?" Heather asked. "How about helping with dinner?"

"It's the boys' turn," Millie said, grabbing my hand and pulling me along after her.

We'd disappeared up this hallway many times as kids, so I knew exactly where her room was, the walls now denuded of boy band posters, before she pulled me out onto the balcony that ringed the house.

"What the hell?" I asked as she dragged out a chair, then nodded for me to take it. "We can't let your mum cook dinner on her own."

"It's the boys' job tonight," she replied, "and I'll have another for them before the end of dinner. How many guys did you tell your mother you were dating?"

"Three." I sank down in my chair, feeling like a right idiot. My hand wrapped around the stem of the wine glass when she poured me a drink. "One would've had her on the plane over here. Two would've?—"

"Had her pitting them against each other in some kind of Hunger Games like ritual," she said. "So three?" As I nodded, a wicked gleam shone in her eyes, only getting brighter as we leaned over the balcony at the sound of a car door slamming shut. Brock had arrived, dressed now in a clean shirt and jeans, but our inspection didn't go unnoticed. Somehow he sensed he had our attention, looking up until I was forced to jerk myself back from the balustrade. "Three I can cover. More than that and I'd be forced to ask one of the guys at work and that always gets messy."

"Ask the guys to do what?" I asked warily.

Millie settled back in her chair and then grinned as wide as the Cheshire cat.

"Pretend to be your boyfriends, obviously."

"What?"

I was gripping the wine glass' stem way too tightly, the slender shape, the condensation coating fingers that now felt numb.

"How long's your mother in town for, a week?" I didn't know, but I found myself nodding mutely. "Even my dumb-arse brothers could keep it together for that long." She leaned forward. "Seems like a perfect way around the problem. You fake date them for a week until your mother leaves. They'll be perfect gentlemen…" She wrinkled her nose at that, as if detecting the very obvious flaw in her plan.

As if that was the only one.

"And then at the end of the week, you ‘choose' one of them, which will be enough to keep your mother happy?—"

"And then I'll break up with him once Mum has gone home." I couldn't believe I was actually agreeing to this, but it was the perfect plan. "I'll say I couldn't come between the brothers."

Except there was one problem.

"That's insane. Like, do you have naked pictures of the boys dressed up in makeup when they were little or something, because I can't think of anything else that would have them saying yes," I said.

"Let's find out."

Why talk something out when you could just do it, that was Millie all over, so I shouldn't have been surprised when she jumped to her feet and went rushing out of the room.

"Millie!" I yelped, downing the wine and then running after her. "Millie! Bitch, don't you dare?—"

But she dared. She always dared. The door was slammed in my face and kept shut, but right when I went to try and shove it open, I heard muffled voices.

Too late. My bestie was asking one of her male-model brothers to fake date me.

Today was supposed to be a perfect day, and instead it was looking like it was going to be one of the worst.