“Challenge accepted.”
* * *
“I’VE GOTTA GET TO THE car shop before they close. You good to close tonight?” I ask Cordell, who’s finishing up on his client. It’s a weekday, so I usually stay until at least twelve. Sometimes as late as two a.m. on weekends to catch the crowds at closing time, but tonight, Cord is closing up shop for me.
“I got it.”
“Thanks, man.”
I pull my hood onto my head and step outside. It’s the end of October, which means two things. One, winter is coming. Two, tourists are coming. Well, it’s always tourist season here—with the lake and the river for the summer and the snow for winter sports—but December and January are notoriously brutal. Good for business. Bad for my whole not liking people thing.
I jog over to my truck, needing to be at the shop before it closes in—I check my phone—six minutes. Fuck. I can make it, as long as I don’t hit any traffic. I fucked up my tire on a pothole, and this place is the only one in town that carries the right tires for my truck. Driving on it is sketchy, but I had to be at Bad Intentions for a twelve o’clock appointment.
I jump in, throwing it in drive, and haul ass toward the shop. The sun is already setting over the lake, and I squint my eyes against the rays peeking through the pine trees that stab at my vision. I pull up with a minute to spare and hope that the old bastard didn’t decide to close early. Businesses here run on River’s Edge time. Which means, you can’t fucking count on anything to be open when they’re supposed to be. If they’re not busy—or if they want to pack it up and call it a day early—they can, and they will. I like money too much to run my shop like that. More than that, I know what it’s like to have none. And I don’t ever plan to go back to that life.
The door chimes when I walk in, but it’s not Doris, the eighty-year-old smart ass that usually works the front desk that I see. It’s someone much younger and, I’ll admit, much better looking. It’s the chick from the shop earlier, and she’s standing with her arms folded across her chest, facing the door behind the desk. I can see her profile, not missing the generous curve of her ass in those tight pants, but she doesn’t notice me.
“Well, that was fast,” I say, pushing back my hood, then tugging the beanie off my head and running a hand through my hat hair. Her head whips around, and her scowl deepens at the sight of me. So she remembers me. I’m flattered. “Found a job already?”
“No,” is all she says. Before she turns back around, I see the tan-ish purple ring around her eye that I didn’t notice earlier. Who gave this chick a black eye?
“Okay, then. Is Henry in?”
“Definitely no,” she says, throwing my words from earlier back at me.
“Touché.”
Henry walks in from the back, wiping his perma-greased hands onto a grimy white rag.
“I see you’ve met my daughter, Logan,” he starts, shooting me a look that says not even he knows what he got himself into.
His daughter? Fuck.
“I didn’t know you had a kid.”
“Neither did he, apparently,” she mutters.
“Don’t listen to her. I have two, but it’s been…a while since I’ve seen them.”
“Ten years. Time just gets away from you, huh, Pops?” Logan deadpans.
My eyebrows shoot up to my hairline, my eyes bouncing between them like I’m watching a tennis match. They go back and forth for a minute before I chime in and ask about the tires. I decided to get a whole new set since I have to replace the one, and they’re getting pretty bald anyway. Henry, thankful for the interruption, lets me know that they did come in.
“But my guy called in sick, and I’ve been all booked up, so we’ll squeeze you in first thing in the morning. What time does your place open?”
Awesome. Note the sarcasm.
“Noon.”
“Since my darling daughter here helped herself to one of my vehicles, she can repay me by giving you a ride home. You can leave your truck here, and I’ll have it done by ten thirty, eleven tomorrow.”
I almost say no. But Logan’s eyes beg me to do just that, and for some reason, I want to do the opposite. Plus, I need to get this done as soon as possible.
My lips slowly stretch into a wide smile.
“Deal.”
Logan takes an angry swipe at the keys on top of the counter and storms outside.