Jamie Knight [Knight - So Bad for Me: Bad Boy Forbidden Love Romance Collection

Hope the chicken isn't too spicy for you, said James, looking over at me while I absentmindedly scraped my food around on my plate. I was so lost in thought, I almost forgot where I was.

I was still trying to process everything. So much had happened. I knew that, all things considered, I was very lucky. Too bad that lucky felt so fucking shitty.

I shifted in my chair to try to relieve some of the pressure from my hip. I winced at a sharp pain shooting from my toes up my leg.

I had been an aircraft mechanic in the Air Force for about eighteen years. Some people have looked at that as not shit since I wasn't in direct combat much, but for me, it let me do what I loved while still serving our country.

I was a self-taught mechanic, learning everything I knew as a young kid working on the cars of friends, family, neighbors, basically anyone within a ten-mile radius who would let me near their car. People would remark with amazement when their car was fixed using little or no parts, and drove better than it had before it needed work done on it. News traveled fast about the teenage boy who could fix cars and did it for next to nothing, sometimes even for free.

I vividly remember a lady walking up to my house, looking nervous and afraid.

B-Br-Brad? she asked quietly.

'Yeah, I said. What can I do for you?

Wringing her hands and glancing around nervously, she continued, but in a language I did not understand. It wasnt Spanish or French or any of the languages Id heard in school. Mightve been Hungarian.

Im sorry, maam I remember extending out my hand slowly, with caution.

She was so scared. It was then I realized her body was wrapped in some unusual garment Id never seen before. I couldnt tell if it was one of those fashionista things or one of those National Geographic things. The sadness in her eyes touched my heart.

C-Caaar? Car? Help? she asked in an unsure voice.

Sure, I'll help you. Let me give you a ride to wherever your car is.

As I said it, I made a motion with one of my arms as if I was using a steering wheel to drive, while gesturing at her with my other arm to come with me. She understood what I was saying and lit up right away, smiling.

We drove the mile to where her car was and I saw what was wrong right away. Her car had overheated and needed coolant. I drove her over to the gas station and she bought some. I put it in her car, had her start the car, and after a few minutes, her engine sounded better and she was ready to go.

Tank you, she said, bowing her head deeply, holding my teenaged hand between her two hands, clasped as if in prayer.

You're welcome.

She looked up into my eyes, hers welling with emotion. God God repay you, she said.

It's okay. Really. I'm just glad that I could help, I told her.

I saw two car seats in the back of her car and wondered where her children were. I didn't bother asking her. But, I was happy that I could help.

That was when I realized that my interest in being a mechanic was more than just a hobby. I wanted to make it my profession.

I worked hard and put myself through trade school, paying for it by working at a fast food joint. Those were long, hard days, going to school during the day and working at night. Sheer will got me through those nights when the restaurant was slow.

But, I knew that if I had any hopes of doing anything with my life, I would have to keep going. I came from a dirt-poor family. Most of them had barely gotten through grade school, let alone had any real profession to speak of.

So, when I graduated from trade school as a mechanic, I felt like I was on top of the fucking world. Unfortunately, though, there weren't very many opportunities in the town where I lived. And I didnt have the money to pack up and move.

When an Air Force recruiter came around and asked if I wanted to join, I signed up right away. I knew that this was itmy ticket to freedom.

And I was right. Being a mechanic in the Air Force opened my eyes to a whole new world. Honestly, it was an entirely new level of existence. I never even knew anyone who worked that hard, with focus, in order to accomplishand to be accomplishedas the guys in my unit did.

Id kind of always been a bit of a daredevil. I just couldnt keep my booty still, as my old great-aunt Birdie diagnosed at my fifteenth birthday party. (It was a great timewe were jumping off the roof into a kiddie pool filled high with shredded foam from a mattress Id ripped up by hand.) I didnt like trouble, you see, I just had a nose for actiona thrill for the outdoors, that sort of thing.

So when I discovered that I had this natural bent for fixing things, I was so excited. I was also relievedmy brain could be the one making me a living, not my brawn or bravado. I mean, sure, being a mechanic involved using my hands and muscles, too, but working on planes also involved figuring out problems and thinking about the best way to fix things.