Rules of Play (The Script Club 2)

I tore my gaze from Aiden’s ass, noting the elevated cars in the open garage as I followed him into the main reception area. A voice echoed in the adjacent office. I couldn’t make the words out clearly, and they weren’t the kind I understood anyway. Something about transmission fluid and a new carburetor.

Aiden grunted a response and turned to me with a quick, “Hang tight. I’ll be back in a sec.”

I nodded, leaning an elbow on the high countertop and surveying the stark space with the puzzled air of someone desperately outside of his comfort zone. The plain tile, linoleum, and plastic chairs lined against the window facing the street were familiar enough. But I worked in a lab where everything was spic-and-span and clinically sanitized. This place was more about utility than cleanliness.

The windows were dirty, the floors were scuffed, and the walls were decorated with faded posters of classic automobiles, a giant wall calendar, and an old-fashioned clock. A small coffee machine with Styrofoam cups, sugar packets, and creamer sat on a shelf above a stack of Auto Trader magazines. I wrinkled my nose at the pervasive smell of engine oil, straightening when Aiden returned with a short, stocky older man with thinning gray hair and a thick mustache, dressed in a grease-stained blue coverall.

The man inclined his head by way of greeting and stuffed his hands into his pockets.

“Hi, there. I’m Hank, Aiden’s uncle. He knows you, so I’ll leave you in his capable hands.”

“Thanks.”

Hank gave me a critical head-to-toe once-over. I’d bet a winning lottery ticket that it was on the tip of his tongue to let me know I still had a few months till Halloween. But he surprised me.

“Are you Simon Murphy’s brother?”

Ah, a sports fan.

I was used to this. When I was a kid, baseball fans would ask if I was related to the same Ben Murphy who’d hit a triple-double and two home runs at the big high school game. During football season, it was the same thing, different brother. And Simon’s career in the pros took the mania to another level.

I smiled warmly. “Yes, I am.”

He didn’t return the gesture. He scratched his balding head and tilted his chin. “I wasn’t surprised when he quit. Too many concussions are bad news.”

“Yeah, we’re relieved he decided to retire.”

“Retire. I guess that’s the nice way to put it,” he mumbled as he moved toward the office, pausing in the doorway. “Gotta say, I think a lot more fans think he retired ’cause of the boyfriend. Quite a scandal, wasn’t it?”

I narrowed my gaze and flashed an overly bright “Fuck you” smile. “Not at all. And no one who matters cares about his personal life anyway.”

“Hmm.” Hank waited a beat before turning to Aiden. “Timmy’s working on that Escalade. He wants to finish it tonight, so don’t worry about locking up. He’ll take care of it. See ya.”

“G’night,” Aiden grunted, sliding a clipboard to me. “Hey, I’m sorry about that. Hank’s an old-timer. He doesn’t know how to finesse his, um…words.”

“Well, neither do I.” I glowered after his uncle, then clicked the top of the ballpoint pen and stared, unseeing, at the paperwork. “After name and phone number, I’m lost. What else do you need from me?”

“Initial here and sign the next page.” He pointed to the bottom of the sheet. “I’ll look at it tomorrow and give you an estimate.”

“Thank you,” I replied, furrowing my brow. “Do you think it’s gonna cost a lot?”

“Not sure yet.”

“Hypothetically speaking, what happens if I can’t swing it? I’m on a tight budget and I just…I can’t ask my family for another loan. My mom started a side business, Ben’s planning a wedding, and Simon just bought a house. Is there such a thing as a payment plan?” I asked, hoping to tone down the desperation in my voice. With minimal success.

“So, you’re a deadbeat.” Aiden crossed his arms over his burly chest and leveled me with a mock-serious stare.

“No, I’m a realist.”

His answering grin was quintessential Aiden. Part mischief, part sunshine. It dissipated any lingering negative energy in the room. Like magic. His crotchety uncle, the old “date” drama, and my new issues with Newton and Susiegate…poof! Gone. None of that mattered.

Sure, he’d always had a great smile, but it paled in comparison to now. He was simply magnetic. I wanted to bask in all that masculine warmth, forget my troubles, and let him take the wheel. I wasn’t good at practicalities anyway, and Aiden oozed competence.

“Here’s how it works…I’ll give you the estimate for everything and advise which repairs are immediately necessary and which ones can wait. If you can’t afford any of them, you can have your truck towed to your residence or another garage or wherever. Deal?” He waited for my nod of approval, then added, “But since you’re a realist, let’s be realistic. That piece of crap is probably older than you. It needs a lot of work, and it should be done by someone you trust.”