Charlie stood with her arms folded tight across her chest, breath clouding in the air, rain slicking her fringe and dripping down the valley of her breasts. The RideReady UK van pulled up with a whine of brakes and a flicker of hazard lights. She'd expected someone middle-aged, gruff--someone who'd clock her face and know not to say much.
But he was anything but that.
Out he came--tall and toned, built like he knew his way around hard graft. The hi-vis jacket clung to him, rain soaking it through, collar flipped up against the wind.
Early twenties, if that. Defined jaw, lips slightly parted like he was always about to say something cheeky. His hair was wet and pushed back in that half-hearted, 90s footballer way, still carrying that raw, boy-next-door swagger.
"You Charlie?"
She just nodded.
"Flat tyre. Rear left. I'm pretty sure there's a nail in it," she said, bending slightly to point--her skirt riding up just enough to reveal the top of her lacy stockings.
His cock twitched.
"Alright," he said, clearing his throat. "Let's get you sorted."
Charlie didn't answer. Instead, she pulled open the passenger door and sat down sideways, legs out, one heel resting on the edge of a puddle. She stared straight ahead, arms still folded, lips tight.
He crouched beside the flat, muttering to himself as he worked. She could feel his presence--quiet, focused, that low hum of confidence that was either endearing or insufferable, depending on the moment.
At one point, he reached for a tool and his arm brushed her shin. Just a graze--bare skin against soaked hi-vis. Nothing, really. Except it wasn't.
Something flickered low in her stomach--fast, hot, surprising.
And he felt it too. She caught the tiny hitch in his breath, the way his hand lingered a second too long before he shifted back, clearing his throat again. He adjusted himself--subtly, but not subtly enough.
Charlie's lips twitched.
Well then.
She looked at him properly now. Rain clung to his lashes, jaw tense, focus a little too sharp on the tyre. He was pretending not to notice her noticing.
He liked her. Or at least, he liked this--her tone, her stance, the don't-fuck-with-me stare she'd worn since he arrived. And now he was flustered. Turned on. Trying to stay professional while his trousers told a different story.
A slow heat coiled in her belly.
Charlie shifted slightly, letting her knees fall apart--just a little. Not enough to be obvious, just enough to draw his eye. She caught the flick of his gaze, the half-second pause as he fumbled with the wheel nut.
Oh yeah. She had him now. And suddenly, she didn't feel cold anymore.
She moved again, slow and deliberate, letting her coat fall open slightly. Her skirt had ridden up on one thigh, the fabric damp and clinging. She didn't fix it.
He tried not to look. Tried.
But when his eyes flicked back up--just a flick--she caught it. Held it.
"You alright down there?" she asked, voice low, almost bored.
He swallowed. "Yeah. Yeah, just... nearly done."
His voice cracked on the last word.
Charlie leaned back on one hand, legs stretching out, toe dragging through a puddle. She didn't smile, but the corner of her mouth twitched.
He looked up--finally. Properly. And something passed between them--sharp, electric.
Rain hammered the space between them, but neither moved.
