The sun was high, beating down on steel, dirt and sweat. Arthur had his sleeves rolled up, shirt clinging to his back, grease on his knuckles and that familiar stern look etched into his brow as he worked. The shop was buzzing — usual clanking of tools, engines half-gutted and scattered across the bay floor, smell of oil, coffee and metal thick in the air.

Then the noise quieted noticeably.

Because you walked in.

Hair curled just so and adorned with a ribbon, your favorite pale yellow sundress swaying as you carried the little basket you’d packed yourself. Your cardigan slipped off one shoulder, sandals tapping delicately on the shop’s concrete floor.

And God help him — Arthur felt every man in that place look up from what they were doing.

“Arthur Morgan,” you called, smiling like you had all the sunshine in the world bottled in your chest. “You forgot your lunch again.”

He froze for half a second, jaw working like he was trying not to smile. He scrubbed his hands on a rag and stepped away from the car he was working on, shaking his head.

“I told you, you didn’t have to bring that all the way down here, darlin’,” he muttered, voice low and warm as he met you halfway.

But he looked damn pleased that you did. You just beamed up at him, ignoring the way his coworkers were whispering.

You handed him the lunch with a soft grin. “And let you starve? Not a chance, mister. Besides... I like seein’ you in your element.”

One of the younger mechanics let out a low whistle under his breath. “Man’s got himself a damn angel."

Arthur shot him a warning look over his shoulder but said nothing. Instead, he gently took the basket from you and nodded toward his office.

“C’mon, sugar. Let’s go inside for a second.” You followed with a little skip in your step, the door to his office clicking shut behind you.

“You know,” he drawled, voice thick, “you show up here lookin’ like that and expect me to focus the rest of the day?”

He set the basket on his desk before turning to face you. His gaze raked over you, expression shifting — something hungrier.

You looked up at him through your lashes, sweet as ever.

You blinked innocently, lips curved in a smile. “Didn’t mean to distract you, honey.”

He reached for your hand, pulling you into him by the waist. “Liar.” You giggled, hands smoothing over his shoulders

Arthur’s voice was a low rasp now. “Ain’t nothin’ I wouldn’t do for my little wife. But you keep showin’ up like that…” Rough palms found your waist, pulling you close until your back bumped against the desk.

He kissed just below your ear. “Might end up takin’ my whole damn lunch break on you.”