"Hello? Hi? Excuse me? Is Daryl here?"
Merle cursed, "God fucking….shit!" He shook his hand, fingers hurting like hell as the wrench slipped and rapped him smartly across the knuckles. "Dammit," he snarled. "Didn't anybody ever tell you not to sneak up on a man when he's working. Almost broke my hand." He shook his throbbing fingers again, looking disgusted. "What good's a one-handed mechanic? I'll tell you. Useless as a broke dick." The sound of her choked off laughter merely added fuel to his fire. "You fucking think that's funny?"
Carol hid her face behind her hand as she struggled to get her amusement in check. Those steely blue eyes raked her up and down, a reluctant gleam of appreciation briefly overtaking the ire holding court in that auguring gaze. "I'm sorry," she repeated in a sheepish tone. "I called out but nobody answered so I came on back. I honestly thought you'd have heard me coming. It's kinda hard to be quiet in these things." She lifted a booted foot and waggled it back and forth.
Those eyes looked her over again, slow and leisurely, taking in every single detail. "So you're the one that belongs to that little red number that's got my brother so wound up." A smile tugged at his lips, but it was far from friendly. "What happened, sugar tits? You decide to buy yourself a bright and shiny toy but then figured out you ain't got a fucking clue what to do with it? Ain't that typical."
The ridicule in his voice wiped the smile from her face. She straightened, those big eyes going frosty, and crossed her arms over her chest. "Is Daryl here?" She repeated.
Merle took his time getting to his feet, wiping his good hand on his pants as he studied her, enjoying the taut white line she'd managed to make of her mouth. A black leather jacket, nipped in at the waist, hugged her slender curves and showed the slightest hint of red at the neck where the zipper rode low. Red. Of course. Probably bought it special to match the fucking paint job or some shit. Dark washed denim, smooth as moleskin, outlined her legs and were tucked into the knee high black boots she'd waved at him earlier. Those damned boots were the cherry on the cake though. Also black leather with sturdy soles and adjustable straps that allowed her to adapt them to her comfort. He was almost willing to bet his whole paycheck that she'd woke up one morning and decided on a lark that she was gonna play motorcycle chick. Like a kid trying out a new toy.
"Little brother took your toy out for a spin to make sure it's all good. He should be back any time so you're welcome to wait if you want."
"You're his brother?" The surprise in her voice was evident and managed to push every button he had. It put his back up. It wasn't so much what she said as how she said it that pissed him off. "I can see it now that you've mentioned it. You have the same eyes."
His knee jerk response was cut off at the knees by that comment. What the fuck? "He's the sweet one, darlin, Daryl is. Me, I got the looks, the brains and the personality."
"And the modesty," Carol observed, that undercurrent of amusement back in spades. "I am sorry about your hand. If you like, I can help you finish whatever you're working on. I know a little bit about cars."
Merle felt his jaw drop before he could catch it. Know a little bit about cars, did she? Well, he'd just see about that. He waved her over and dropped the wrench into her upturned palm. Merle found himself looking forward to seeing if the woman could back up her words with actions. He thought he could like her under different circumstances. Maybe. If there was no Belle. If his niece hadn't set her heart on a woman she'd only seen once in passing.
He walked the bike into the bay and shut the motor down, listening to it tick and mutter as the heat dissipated. The Triumph was a little short for him but rode like a dream. A little attention had it purring like a kitten though. He could hardly wait for her to get there so that she could try it out.
Caesar was propped up on the counter, grinning to himself as Daryl came in. He looked like a cat with a face full of cream, practically bouncing on his toes once he caught sight of Daryl. "Man, you gotta see this. You're gonna shit a brick."
A dozen scenarios ran through his head, none of them good. "Fuck me, now what? Randall ain't been in the back again, has he? I told that little prick to stay the hell out of there. He don't know shit from shinola."
The boy in question wandered into the lobby, wearing a douche bag expression. "Since when do we let just anybody off the street come back and work on cars? You guys said you'd teach me if I didn't mess up no more. It's been almost a month since the last time, Daryl, a whole month."
"What?" Daryl looked from one to the other in confusion. "Just anybody? Dammit, somebody better tell me what the hell's going on."
In lieu of an answer, Martinez jerked his head toward the far corner where Merle was supposed to be getting Shane Walsh's car tuned up. Daryl stepped up beside Caesar and followed his gaze to the low slung silver Vette. The hood was up and the motor sounded smooth as silk satin but that ass bent over the fender, clad in tight denim didn't belong to his brother.
"Hold up a minute," a voice that was most definitely female called out. Her hips shifted with her movements as she made an adjustment. "Try it now." The car fired up, the low throb of the powerful engine roaring to life when whomever was behind the wheel hit the gas.
Daryl's face flooded with color, blood pounding in his temples as his fury mounted at the sight of Merle grinning like an idiot as he climbed out of the car. "God. Damn. It." Daryl enunciated every syllable separately and distinctly. "Have you lost your damned mind!"
"Hey, little brother!" Merle greeted. "Was just keeping this one occupied until you got done playing with her toy. Bout damned time you got back."
He ignored Merle for the moment, shocked to his core when he saw Carol sidled away from the car, wearing a guilty expression. "Hi," he pushed the words out through suddenly dry lips.
"Hi," she answered softly. "Sorry about this. I caused your brother to hurt his hand so I offered to help out to make amends. I guess I shouldn't have but it seemed like a good idea at the time. Really, I'm sorry." She trailed off as a heavy arm draped over her shoulder.
"Don't be giving her a hard time now. I was right there the whole time and believe it or not, the gal knows her way around an engine. I'm tempted to take her down to T-Dogs to see if she can hold her liquor. If she can, I just might have to stake a claim."
Carol shrugged free of his loose hold and took a couple of steps to put some distance between them. "Charming but I'm gonna have to take a rain check, boys. I've got somewhere to be. Daryl, is the bike ready?"
Shooting his brother warning looks, Daryl nodded and motioned for her to follow him, ignoring Martinez and Randall's swiftly hidden smirks. "Look, whatever my asshole brother said or did," he ventured once they were out of earshot. "I…uh..Merle…"
"It's okay," she broke in. "He was fine. Just fine."
Carol trailed her hand along the flaring lines of the candy apple gas tank and, with a practiced movement, straddled the bike. A quick flick of her fingers brought it to life. She twisted the throttle and grinned for all she was worth at the sound. "It's perfect!" She enthused. "What was wrong with it?"
"Just needed a little tweaking," Daryl said once she'd cut the engine. "Should be just like new from now on though." He handed her the bill and then pocketed the check she handed over in return. "Thanks." He hesitated, watching as she took a black lacquer helmet out of her backpack. "It was good to see you again," he finished rather lamely as she flashed a smile before donning the rest of her gear. "Listen, Carol, do you think maybe…" He cut off as she keyed the ignition and hit the kickstand with a booted foot, the other braced to keep the bike upright.
"Pick me up at seven tomorrow night," she called out loudly so as to be heard over the sound of the engine. "And tell Sophia I said hello." With that, she offered up a jaunty wave and bounded out into the early afternoon light.
He watched her until she disappeared from view, his jag sagging like some sort of dumbass. Pick her up at seven. "Fuck me," he breathed as he stared after her. "I'll be there with bells on."