Miss Mechanic

“She’s pretty, huh?” Dad took the seat next to me and pushed his glasses up his nose.

“Dunno who you’re talking about.” I drank my Coke.

He laughed. “Jamie. Your grandfather has been telling me all about her.”

“You know he’s crazy, right?”

“She’s pretty, she’s got your number…”

I sighed. “If everyone in this family could stop marrying me off to the person who hated me on sight, that would be great.”

“She hated you on sight, huh?”

“It was mutual.”

“That’s how me and your mother met,” he mused. “I’d just accidentally hit a baseball through the passenger side window of her brand-new car. Two days after she moved in across the street.”

I slid my gaze toward him. “That’s a new story. How didn’t we know that?”

“Well, son, let’s face it. You can be a bit of an ass sometimes.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“So, I was saving it for a moment just like this.”

I gave him a thumb up and looked back out at the dancefloor. Both Roxy and Jamie had disappeared, and that spelled disaster.

“Someone needs to take that tray from Greta.”

I jerked my head around. Dad was right—Greta still had a tray, or rather, she’d commandeered someone to handle it for her.

“Dad. I think we’re up.”

Dad sighed, but we both stood and crossed the room to where Greta was drunkenly peddling shots to… Roxy and Jamie.

They both took one before we had a chance to get to them and stop them.

“I’ll take that.” Dad took the tray from the old guy who held it and swept it straight to the bar.

Greta held her finger up and shrieked Dad’s name before dragging her poor new friend behind her.

Roxy snorted. “I need the bathroom. I’ll be right back.” She waved at us and headed in the direction of the bathrooms.

“I thought you said she was a whiskey peddler,” I said to Jamie, half-grinning.

She pressed her hands against her cheeks. “She is. It’s crazy. She shoves it at you and stares at you and woosh, you’re a goner!”

Laughing, I handed her her purse. “Here. I didn’t want to leave it at the table.”

“Thanks.” She unclipped the top and pulled out a chain strap before doing it back up. She threw the strap over her head, across her body, and grabbed my hand. “Dance?”

“I don’t dance.”

“Neither do I.”

“I’ve just watched you for the last fifteen minutes. You definitely do dance.”

She stopped in the middle of the floor, eyebrow quirked and lips curling. “You watched me, did you?”

“Not specifically. I mean, I could see you. It’s not like you were a TV or anything.”

She giggled behind her hand. “You’re so awkward.”

I’d been called many things, but awkward wasn’t one of them.

“I think you need some fresh air.” I grabbed hold of her arms and steered her toward the back doors. “And I’m aware this is outside of your safe touching zone, but it’s for your own good.”

More laughter escaped her. “I’m fine. I’m just in a good mood.”

“Huh. That’s why I think you’re hammered. I’ve never seen you in one of those.”

She looked at me over her shoulder as she sat on one of the benches in the side garden. “You’re such a charmer.”

“I’ve been nice all night. It’s all built up, and here we go. I’m charming the panties off you.”

“I doubt that. You’ll say one thing too far and whoosh.” She made a sweeping movement through the air with her hand. “They’d be clamped on with a coded padlock.”

I laughed as I sat with her. “There’s the Jamie I know. She’s under the whiskey and dancing.”

“Careful. I’m keeping her on a tight rein.” She tapped a finger against her chin.

And I knew.

I knew what was so damn different about her.

It was her freaking hair.

“Your hair,” I muttered, my fingers twitching.

“What?” She did a double-take and touched it. “Is something wrong with it?”

“No.” My lips tugged at the sides. “It’s what’s making you so different. You don’t look like you stuck your finger in a plug socket.”

She pressed her hand to her mouth. “I can’t even be mad about that. It’s true.”

“How did you do it?” I reached over and tugged the end of a wavy lock.

“I didn’t. My best friend and mom did.” She untucked it from her ear, letting it fall over her face.

“Don’t. Untuck it. I mean.” I hesitated only a second before I reached out and pushed it back behind her ear. It was soft and smooth, a world away from its usual state, and I let my fingers run through it to the very ends.

Our eyes were connected the whole time, and my inhale was a little too sharp.

Jamie bit her lip and looked away.

I yanked my hand back and cleared my throat.

“I’m hungry. Let’s get some pizza!” She jumped up faster than she should have been able to in those shoes and, with a good few feet of distance between us, looked at me with her hands clapped together. “Yes? Pizza? Yes?”