Squinting at the computer screen, Deano grimaced.
The cam shaft he'd ordered, was STILL out of stock.
Business at the garage had ground to a halt, all thanks to his 'reliable' supplier. And now this had to happen too.
He groaned, wiping a grubby hand across his face.
"Damn!" he swore, hoisting himself out of his seat and reaching down to the refrigerator for a can of beer.
Peering out of the window, he grimaced, as he chugged down the last dregs.
"Damned lousy weather," he swore, peering out of the trailer window.
It didn't appear to be stormy, the skies were still fairly clear, but there was a definite dampness in the air and he didn't want anything to happen to 'Old Moo.
Old Moo was his pick up truck. All black with shiny new customised chrome.
She was his 'babe magnet' and his pride and joy.
In his spare time, he spent hours working on her, tweaking here, waxing there.
Luckily he constructed a car port to park her under. But he still had to cover her over, just to make sure she didn't get any rust spots.
Man, she was a beauty.
He grinned, as he trotted down the steps of his trailer and walked towards the make shift carport. He had to make sure the tarp was fixed down properly, as the weather man reported blustery showers for the rest of the day.
"Oh yeah," he murmured, as he slid a hand across the shiny waxed surface, "you're quite the babe magnet aren't you?"
His smile faded, when he detected the unmistakable scent of leaking oil.
Dropping onto his knees, he peered at the undercarriage of his pick up and saw the pool of oil on the concrete.
"Dammit," he cursed, rolling up his sleeves.
Luckily for Deano, he always carried a small tool box in the back of the pick-up.
Grabbing an adjustable wrench and a powerful torch, he slid underneath 'Moo' and poked around to see where the leak was.
With his trailer seated at the very edge of the park, there was usually a lot of traffic. People coming and going all the time.
So it was no surprise when a nice pair of pins stopped right in front of him.
"Hiya stud," came a soft sultry voice.
Deano grinned, his eyes never left those perfectly formed ankles.
"Hey sweetheart," he replied gruffly, "what're you doing down this neck of the woods?"
He couldn't see her face, but he correctly assumed she was smiling.
Satisfied he'd fixed that annoying leak, he pulled himself out from beneath 'Old Moo', grinning broadly.
This 'Sweetheart' in question, was none other than a wannabe model called Charity Benson.
Tall and leggy, with a neat figure, a cascade of corkscrew curls and the most delicious, kissable lips Deano had ever had the pleasure of knowing.
Charity watched as he wiped his hands on a dirty rag.
Gosh, he was sooo handsome.
She shot him her killer smile.
"Oh, just passing through really," she said, pretending to inspect her fingernails, "and you? Aren't you supposed to be at work?"
"Nah," came the reply, "it's pretty quiet at the garage, so I thought I'd bring work home with me."
He patted the tarpaulin lovingly, caressing it gently with his fingertips.
He looked back at her and drew out his famous lop-sided grin.
"Hey," he crooned huskily, "wanna come in for a coffee?"
"Sure," came the reply.
Charity sashayed past Deano, earning herself a slap on her bottom, and a wolf whistle at the same time.
Man, she was a gorgeous piece of ass, and quite the opposite of his on/off girlfriend, Brooke.
Brooke was sweet in her own way, but she had too many hang-ups. Charity in the meantime, was a lot more fun to be with.
With no ties, she could come and go as she pleased, had a dirty sense of humour and just didn't care what the world thought of her.
They both knew that coffee wasn't on the agenda, as Deano moved in for the 'kill'.
Leaning forward, he caressed her arm, looking deep into her grey/blue eyes.
It was a game they we both familiar with, and they played their parts to perfection.
