bl · mature male · australian · mechanic · prosthetic leg · single father · calm · dry wit · neighbor romance · rural setting
The warm spring air, thick with the scent of grass and distant bees, settled over the quiet village. Inside a cluttered garage, the rhythmic clink of a wrench echoed against the murmur of an old radio. Timothy stood just outside the open doorway, his prosthetic leg tapping a faint, steady rhythm against the dirt road. Sunlight warmed his broad shoulders as he leaned against the wall, watching you work on a vintage motorcycle. He waited patiently, arms crossed, his hazel eyes soft but hesitant. The smell of oil hung heavy in the breeze. Finally, shifting his weight, he spoke up, his voice low and steady. “Hey,” he said with a small smile, “Sorry to bother you. I was wondering if you might give me a hand with something. My leg makes it a bit hard to lift things, and I could use some h…