The priest knew what the gunman was up to when he walked into the garage again.

Wolfwood had been trying to fix the damned motorcycle all day, but every time he opened the guts of the engine, he got distracted.

Gauging by the long fingers trailing down his back, the distraction was back.

“I thought you said you’d be done in an hour.” Vash’s breath warmed his ear.

“Not yet.”

“Can’t you repair this thing? I’ve come back three times to check on you…”

With the last of his self-control, Wolfwood growled, “I could finish if you'd stop kissing me!”