Maverick (The Family Simon 3)

Charlie lifted her head from the bench in front of her and glanced over at Davis. Wiping her hand across her cheek, she swore. Great. She didn’t have to look in a mirror to know she’d just smudged grease all over herself. Davis was installing a new water pump into Hank Crenshaw’s truck while she was rebuilding the carburetor.

Davis was looking at her expectantly and Charlie turned back to the task at hand. It was nearing noon on Monday and she had two other jobs ahead of her before she could call it a day.

“Just spit it out, Davis,” she muttered, jamming her finger good and swearing a blue streak when she caught sight of her torn nail. Damn, it had been the last good one. Not that it mattered. Her hands were in rough shape and with all the dirt and grease that coated them, the fact that they were dry and cracking shouldn’t really matter. But then again, who other than Charlie cared about the state of her hands?

No one. Not one damn person.

Mood suddenly foul, she frowned and continued tinkering with the carburetor.

“You gonna spill or what?” Davis prompted.

“Jesus,” she whispered under her breath. She knew what he was talking about but since there was nothing to tell, she shrugged and kept working.

“About the Shelby I mean.”

Yeah. Right. The Mustang. Davis wasn’t exactly smooth.

“Needs some work,” she finally replied.

“Huh,” Davis said. “He ask you to restore it?”

“Nope.”

She snuck a glance. Davis was surprised. She really needed to nip this in the bud before it got out of hand. Wiping her hands down the front of her coveralls, she turned around and leaned back against the bench.

“Look, Davis. He said he’d let me know if his brother wanted the car restored. I haven’t heard from him, so maybe his brother is fine with the Shelby the way it is. Not everyone who buys a classic car is prepared to spend the kind of money it takes to get it back to its original state.”

She reached for a rag and then paused, looking at her hands again because really, what good would it do?

“The thing is,” she continued. “Even if he does want work done on the Shelby, we don’t have time for the job. I fix cars that people use. That’s my bread and butter and last time I looked, we’re pretty much booked into next month. I’m not a body person and neither are you so the whole thing is stupid anyway. I don’t even know why I bothered to go out and take a look at it.”

“You went out because that car is special and maybe you need to work on something for the love of it, not because you need to pay bills.”

“That’s just it, Davis. I need to pay lots of bills including your wages and uh, the last time I looked, love doesn’t pay the bills. In fact love usually gets in the way.”

“Since when did you become a grump?”

“Since I became responsible for another human being.”

Davis was silent for a few moments, but that didn’t mean the guy was giving up. “I think we could do it. Farm out the bodywork and I’d like to take a crack at the upholstery and interior in my spare time. As for the engine, no one knows cars better than you. Not even…” Davis halted, eyes softening a bit. “Not even your dad.”

Charlie shifted her feet and exhaled, hating that the familiar slice of pain would never go away. “That’s not what this is about, Davis, and you know it.”

Davis shoved his hands into the front pockets of his coveralls and leaned against the truck. “And what’s this about?”

“Really? We’re going to play this game?”

He shrugged but remained silent.

“I don’t want or need you playing cupid. Nothing is gonna happen between Rick and me. Hell, I don’t even know his last name. In fact I don’t know anything about him. He could be a serial killer for all we know.”

“I doubt it,” Davis said with a chuckle.

“Doubt it all you want, but the truth is we know nothing about him, and I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

“Fine,” Davis replied, reaching for the water pump.

“Fine,” she repeated, voice sharp. She paused. “Why don’t we talk about Ava and Seth?”