Revved To The Maxx

“It’s your job to make the list, plan whatever you need, and do the cooking.” He glanced at his watch, a chunky silver one that showed off his tanned forearms. I noticed a woven leather strap above the metal and a set of smooth beads. “You have twenty minutes.”

I looked around, spying a cup with some pens. I found an old envelope and began to write. Lists, I excelled at.

“Bring your debit card, buddy. You need a lot of shit.”

He strode from the room. “I have a feeling you are going to enjoy being the person to give me that shit.”

“Gosh dang right, I am,” I called after him, scribbling furiously.Before we left, Maxx made me get behind the wheel of his truck. He lifted the seat as high as it would go, pushing it forward. I felt like a child behind the steering wheel, but I refused to show him my fear. “It’s fine. I can drive this.”

He laughed, actually sounding amused instead of angry. “You can barely reach the pedals. There is no way you can work the clutch and shift.” He moved the seat back into the position he used. I could barely climb out of the truck, and he didn’t offer to help. I almost fell trying, and with a curse, he caught me, setting me on my feet and shaking his head. “Yep. Good job, Charly. You are never driving this truck.”

I wanted to stamp my feet. “Holy moly, that isn’t fair. You haven’t even let me try. I can learn. Otherwise, I can’t do your errands, and you’ll use it as an excuse to fire me.”

He waved his hand. “We’ll call a draw on this one. I’ll figure out an alternative.” He glanced toward a barn sitting behind the house, rubbing at his scruff, thinking.

“What?” I asked.

“Get in the truck,” he replied, shaking his head.

I crossed to the other side, scrambling in.

“Not exactly graceful there, Charly,” he mocked.

“Yowsers. Running boards would help,” I muttered.

“What did you say?”

“I said running boards would help.” I threw up my hands in frustration. “Look, I can’t help it if I’m only five feet four. Or a girl. I know you hate it, but I’m here. I’m sorry, all right? Your truck was obviously built for a freaking giant. Stop finding things to find fault with. Save your breath. You can’t growl and bitch me out of here, so stop chapping my ass. You’re stuck with me for the next two weeks, so shut up, drive us to the store so I can get groceries and go home to start doing the job you hired me for.” I crossed my arms, staring out the window. The truck was silent, and I wondered if I had said too much. Pushed him too far. Maybe he was going to tell me to go get my suitcase and get out. But I couldn’t waver.

There was an odd sound, almost a begrudging chuckle, then he started the truck. “Fine, Charly. Let’s go get groceries.”

I considered that my first victory.In the store, Maxx followed me around like a silent shadow. More like a growly grizzly bear at times, but he didn’t say much or protest as I filled the cart, but he made some odd noises. He added a few things that I assumed he liked. I made notes to keep apples, pears, and bananas on hand. He also seemed to like fresh veggies, so the cart was loaded with lots of those. It made up for the horrid “healthy choice” meals his freezer contained. I stocked up on staples, meat, and other items—including the makings of my lemon pie. Maybe that would soften him up a little.

He paid the bill, helped load the groceries, and even unloaded at the other end. He answered my questions as I thought of them on the drive back, keeping his replies short.

“What hours is the shop open?”

“Eight to four. Monday to Friday. Appointments after hours and Saturday.”

“Do you only do restorations?”

“No.”

“So, you’re a full-service garage?”

“Yes.”

“How many mechanics?”

His hands tightened on the wheel before he responded to that question.

“Me.”

I frowned. That seemed unusual.

“I saw your website. It needs updating.” I didn’t mention the picture. That was obviously not Maxx. Maybe his dad?

He grunted. “Hence the job, Charly. Keep up.”

I looked out the window. “I can keep up no problem, grump. Easy peasy.”

I felt his glower, but I didn’t look at him.

“Anything you don’t like?”

“We covered that at the bus stop.”

I rolled my eyes and huffed. “Holy moly, you’re a hard nut to crack. I meant food-wise, buddy.”

“A little late to ask since you just spent all my money on food.”

“Yowsers, you were right there, big boy. And obviously, you have a voice that you like to use to berate me.”

He huffed.

“And,” I continued, “since you’re not paying me, consider that part of the payment.”