I let out a bark of laughter at hearing the older man use the young kids’ slang. “They call her that out of respect for you, old timer.” When Oliver wasn’t around, they used much saltier language.
“It’s a good thing you’re doing, letting those troublemakers come here to learn a trade. It’ll keep them out of big, grown-up trouble.”
I shrugged off Oliver’s praise. “Yes, Persy is beautiful.”
She dressed up for work every day, looking every inch the sexy doctor in slacks or skirts and colorful blouses that highlighted the perfect jiggle of her tits, but I liked her best of all in figure-hugging jeans and a plain tank top that showed off her lean, muscled arms.
“Don’t waste time, boy. Time flies, and some other man might not be so gun-shy about going after what he wants. Especially when it comes to a woman like that.”
I wasn’t gun-shy when it came to Persephone, I was cautious. She had made it perfectly clear that kissing me, making love to me, was a mistake. In three months and four days, she hadn’t brought up that night once. Her feelings were clear, and I had to respect them because I wouldn’t lose her, or Titus, over something as trivial as rejection.
“I’ll think about what you said.” Those were the only words that would end this line of conversation, and that was all I wanted.
Oliver barked out another laugh and shook his head. “You snooze, you lose, son. And if you lose the girl, how eager will you be to keep playing the role model for young Titus?”
“He’s my godson, I’m not going anywhere,” I growled.
“Not even when some other man strolls in and makes the move you won’t? Will you be happy to babysit while she’s out getting romanced by some smarmy doctor with goop in his hair?”
My only response was a low, feral growl.
“That’s what I thought. Don’t leave it too long. Good women don’t stay single forever.”
“Yeah?” I looked over the hood with a smile. “Is that why you’re dancing around Melanie Gibbons’ sister? Can’t keep secrets in a small town, Ollie.”
He groaned and pushed off the swivel chair I kept in my office just for him. “I’m too old to dance around a woman. We’re just feeling each other out while she’s visiting.”
“Sure.” Persephone had been as giddy as a schoolgirl when she told me she’d found the two flirting in the community center when she had picked up Titus from science club.
“I’ll quit bustin’ your chops if you tell me about this beauty right here.” Oliver stood in front of a 1955 Porsche Speedster, smiling like there was a naked woman draped over the hood.
I didn’t blame him—even not running and a little rusted in places, she was beautiful. I’d loved cars for as long as I could remember: the roar of the engine, the way it felt to floor it, and having my back pressed against the leather of a classic car. There was nothing like it, and I shared that love with my granddad and uncle, who ran this place until they both died, three years apart. Uncle Ted had two daughters who had no interest in cars or staying in Jackson’s Ridge, so I inherited the shop. This was the first time in ages that only one Branson worked in the shop and I did everything I could, including expanding into my true love, custom restoration, to keep the place running.
The Branson family wasn’t as prestigious or well-loved as the founding Jackson family, but this place was an institution. It was the only place to get your car fixed on this side of the county, and I didn’t take advantage of that fact. This place was my home, these people, nosy though they were, were my family. I helped them with their car problems, no matter how big or small, no matter what was in their wallet. I accepted cash and food as payment, and I always would.
“Stop daydreaming about your girl, boy, and tell me about this car.”
Oliver’s amused but gruff tone pulled me from my thoughts and back to the Speedster. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything. What else?” The eager smile that spread across his face was exactly the reminder I needed of why I loved that Oliver had taken to dropping by most mornings with coffee and pastries from Sweet Treats. The man didn’t know much about cars, but he loved them. He was curious as hell and asked plenty of questions—at least, when he wasn’t prying into my personal life, pathetic as it was at the moment.
“The engine needs a full rebuild, but I’ll wait until after lunch when the boys get here to start. They all want to know how it’s done, and I promised them school credit if they showed up for every shift scheduled until the job was done.”