Logan's garage had more personality than his whole house. It had workbenches covered in tools and half-finished projects. A gorgeous wooden chair sat in the corner. He'd gruffly said it wasn't finished. I'd been too amazed at the implication that he'd made it to ask any more questions. The crown jewel in the center was a motorcycle. It looked beautiful and powerful enough that it made me want to know more about motorcycles just so I could accurately describe it. I was sure it was "powerful" and had "horse power" or whatever, but I had no real idea. I just knew that while I volunteered to help Logan build shelves, one way or another, we were going to do something sexual on or near that beautiful piece of machinery.

"Gimme some more screws."

I sat on a small cleared section of a workbench with my feet dangling above the ground while Logan actually assembled the shelves. I was in charge of handing him things, which was A-OK with me. But the small bag of screws that had come in the box with the shelves was empty.

"One sec," I said.

I hopped off the table and searched through the box. There was a lot of packing stuff, but no more bags of screws and those round things that got put on the end of them.

"Uh, we're out."

"The fuck d'ya mean we're out?" Logan grumbled.

I held the empty bag away from him when he reached for it. He stared at me like he couldn't believe I'd just done that.

"Don't swear at me," I told him, trying to pitch my voice as both calm and firm. "I know you've had a long day sugar, but I don't appreciate it when men swear at me."

He relaxed and his eyes softened as he nodded. I handed over the bag, but he took my wrist instead and pulled me close. He kissed my temple, and I relaxed into his arms. That worked for an apology for me as long as he didn't swear at me again. And I might be biased about it anyway, growing up in an unhealthy environment where the men swore and yelled at the women and the poor stupid women scurried to obey. I just wanted to make sure this never evolved to that from the get go because while we'd never talked about it, the age difference and his experience put him at an advantage over me.

"Where are the direction?" Logan asked after a moment.

I pulled out of his arms and grabbed the folded up sheet off the table. We worked together to get it unfolded to the size of the table itself and spread it out. Logan examined it, muttering to himself. I went back to check the box again to make sure I hadn't missed anything in the packing fluff. I did find another bag, and I held it up in triumph before I realized the metal pieces inside weren't screws at all.

"What are these?" I showed them to Logan. "I found them in the box, but still no screws."

He took the bag and glared at it. I leaned against the edge of the table as he poured over the directions, trying to figure out what these new metal pieces were.

"Can I swear at the directions?" He finally asked. "'Cause this is some fucking bullshit."

"Well, I don't think that part you're looking at is English," I said.

He nodded distractedly. "It's Japanese. Not very clear. Shit, Victor could read this French."

"How many languages do you speak?"

He shrugged. "Some."

Well that was amazingly vague. But I didn't want to press too hard while he was stressed, so I let it drop. Now that I knew he could speak more than one language, we were definitely having some sort of sex on that motorcycle. I'd never had a very pressing sex drive before we started dating, but now that I knew what a g-spot stimulated orgasm felt like, I wanted one every day.

Logan let out a low growling noise, dragging me out of my thoughts.

"These aren't in the directions."

"Do you have any idea what they're supposed to be?" I asked.

"Yeah, darlin'. They're shelf holders," he explained. "You put these little hook looking things through the holes in the beams—"

He pointed over to the long pole things. They were straight up and down but bent lengthwise so they had a short edge and a slightly longer edge.

"—and then the shelves rest on this flat part. But the directions had me using screws. These shelf holders aren't in the directions at all."

"Okay, I think this is a one time only thing, never again to be applied to any other man or situation," I began. "But you sound like you know better than the directions. I vote you just do what makes sense to you, because I don't think these directions even match these shelves."

Logan smiled at me a little and considered the shelves. I didn't have anything else to do today, so I was fine with hanging around and helping out as long as he didn't get tired of me. In the end, Logan decided to go with his gut. He laid out two poles parallel to each other with a few feet in between and told me to put the shelf holders into the holes. I got to work on that while he put shelf holders on two more poles that would hold the other ends of the shelves. After we both finished, I watched him screw on a side brace that connected the two poles and then did the same on mine while he got everything else together. But when he walked over to check my work, I could see on his face that I'd done something wrong.

"What is it?" I asked.

"See how the beams have a long and short edge?" he nudged the pole with the toe of his boot. "The long edge needs to be on the floor with the short edge sticking up perpendicular."

"Mine is … " I looked at it glumly. "Backwards."

"Yep."

I sighed as I thought about how I would have to redo everything I'd just done. Logan crouched down next to me and wrapped his arm around me.

"I messed up," I mumbled, leaning into him.

"Yeah, but you found the shelf holders," he said. "And you can fix it. It's not a big deal."

I tilted my head up, and he obliged my unspoken need for a comfort kiss. He kept it short though, and I was reminded that the afternoon was already dragging on and we hadn't even finished one shelf yet.

"You know what to do to fix it?" he asked me.

I nodded. "Take all the shelf holders off and the side braces. Turn the beams the right way. Put those back on again."

"All right."

He stood up and went off to busy himself doing something else. I didn't mind redoing everything on my own because I'd been the one to mess it up in the first place. I'd rather him explain what I'd done wrong and how to fix it then yell at me or make me feel bad. I liked knowing exactly what I needed to do as amends and he didn't even ask for an apology. It took me about twenty minutes to redo everything. Once I finished, Logan and I both stood up our two beams and he held them apart while I set a shelf between them.

I eyed it skeptically. "This doesn't look stable."

"You gotta hammer 'em into place," Logan replied. "You can grab that mallet over there."

I ran over and got it off of one of his many workbenches. Logan had been great about my mess up, but I was still pretty frustrated with myself, and the opportunity to hammer something sounded fun. I slammed the mallet against the metal shelf, and it sunk down a few inches. I looked at Logan to make sure I hadn't just seriously damaged something. He nodded with a grin, and I happily went back to banging down the corners into place.

"You keep these balanced, and I'll carry over the shelves," Logan said.

I hummed out an agreement and waited while he got one of the shelves. What we'd set up so far couldn't really balance on its own, but it was stable enough that holding it up wasn't difficult. Logan brought over the shelf and set it into place, then handed me the mallet. I got to hammer in the shelf again, and we stuck with that pattern. We put in shelves at the bottom and worked our way up. As the shelves got higher, Logan had to pick them up and lift them. I was quietly grateful I got the easiest jobs. The shelves weren't that heavy, but the motion was repetitive and would have killed my arms. After we got all the shelves in, the final step was to make sure everything was level and put the back braces on.

All in all, it took us an hour and a half to put together one shelf. But after that, once we knew what we were doing, we put together three more shelves in an hour. I felt kind of tired by the end of it, but triumphant too.

"Hey, Logan?" I started out in a sweet voice.

His face twitched a little in an aborted grimace. I blinked, and I could feel my own face fall.

"I just don't feel like going out today, babe," he said. "It's a Sunday afternoon, nothing's going to be open anyway."

"Well actually, I was thinking more along the lines of staying in and a victory blowjob," I replied.

He cocked an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Among other things."

He approached me slowly, still looking a bit skeptical. "I can satisfy those other things darlin', but are you sure you aren't tired?"

"I like your motorcycle," I blurted out.

"Yeah?" Logan's expression turned to smug male amusement. "That why you said you'd help me? You just want me for my sweet ride."

I snorted with laughter. "And how nice you are, your big muscles, because you speak more than one language, your facial hair, that you take care of me, and the million other reasons that I … "

Love you. Oh dear God, I was in love with him. The thought didn't even sound all that crazy because who wouldn't fall in love with Logan Howlett? And I was just a little girl, one among a hundred others. Sure, I was young and innocent, and that might appeal to him. I even got the feeling that Logan really did like me, but there was a world of difference between enjoying the fun we were having and wanting to settle down in a steady monogamous relationship leading to marriage. We'd never said anything about if we were monogamous or even in a relationship at all. If I had to introduce him to someone right now, I wouldn't dare to call him my boyfriend.

My face must have paled or showed my dread in some other way because Logan stepped forward and cupped my cheek in concern.

"Marie?"

"I uhm," I pointed to a rag crumpled on the floor. "I thought that was a rat. It startled me for a second. Sorry, I'm fine."

My real embarrassment must have been enough to convince him because he gave a slow nod.

"I'm okay," I reassured him. "We can just go lie down if you want."

"No, I didn't say I wanted to do that," Logan quickly said. "I just want to make sure you're okay. And if you are, if you still want to check out my motorcycle … "

I relaxed and smiled at his hopeful trail off. "I don't know, I wouldn't want you to wear yourself out. If you need to eat some tapioca or eat some vitamins—"

Logan let out a playful growl and scooped me up. I laughed as he carried me over and set me down on the motorcycle seat.

"You got a lot of sass in that mouth of yours, little girl," he murmured, hiking my leg around his hip. "But I can think of something better to put in it."

"Actually, I suggested the idea, sooo … "

A/N: I'm literally such a terrible person for ending it here, but I'm kind of swamped with schoolwork right now, so this is all I've got written. The blowjob and maybe more plot will definitely 100% be next chapter though, I swear on Hugh Jackman!