Worth Every Cent (Worth It 2)

I tightened the last bolt and surveyed my work, then rolled out from underneath it and wiped the grease off my hands. I reached into the driver’s side and popped the hood, then hung a light and got to work. The radiator tank was cracked. The engine needed to be cleaned. The battery almost certainly needed to be replaced. I made a mental note of all the things that needed fixing and topping off before running some prices through my head. Stillsville would have some of this stuff, but the other parts I’d have to either get offline or travel into the next town to get.

I looked at my watch and saw it was only noon, so I figured I could use the time to make the drives.

Any excuse to get out of Stillsville was enough for me. And fixing up Anton’s Chevy seemed like the best one of all.

Well, the second best. Treating Michelle to the time of her life would always be first in my mind.

Chapter 24

Michelle

“Michelle!”

“Yeah, Brad?”

“Take ten. You’re sweating on the counter.”

I wiped at my glistening forehead as a giggle escaped my lips.

“Thanks. I’ll be right back.”

I shoved myself into the bathroom and quickly splashed some water in my face. The only good part about a severe lunch rush was the tips. But I was exhausted beyond belief. Getting up early and driving from Chicago to Stillsville to cover the late morning to dinner shift was rough. And to top it all off, I felt sick to my stomach. I wasn’t sure why, and I hoped I wasn’t coming down with anything, but as I reared up and looked at myself in the mirror my phone rang.

“Hello?” I asked.

“Is this Miss Danforth?”

“It is. Who’s this?”

“This is Dale Craig.”

“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry. I didn’t recognize your voice. How are you? How is your wife?” I asked.

“She’s doing better. Took a spill and needed some surgery. We’re all better and settled at home, so I wanted to call you as soon as I could. I’m sorry, but the references you provided aren’t appropriate.”

“What?” I asked.

I felt my stomach drop to my toes as nausea rolled in my gut.

“I know you enjoyed the house, and I would be happy to pass your application on, but I need someone with a grounded rental history for that home. And you don’t have one. I’m sorry, but I won’t be renting the house to you.”

“Well, um—than—thank you for calling,” I said.

“I’m sorry, Miss Danforth.”

“It’s fine!”

I cringed at how loud that came out.

“It’s fine,” I said. “Not a problem. I really hope your wife starts feeling better.”

“Do you want me to pass your application on? I could put in a good word somewhere that doesn’t require strong rental references.”

“That’s okay. Thank you for the opportunity. I wish you the best.”

I hung up the phone before I started crying on the line with that man. I couldn’t breathe. It felt as if the walls were closing in on me. The electric jolt of disappointment that ran through my body brought me back from the fairytale of my weekend. Chicago had been perfect, but it wasn’t my life. That was Gray’s life, and this was my life. Rejection, sweating in a diner, and nowhere to live.

Chicago felt more like a dream with each passing second.