Ice Obsession (Lucky Strikers #4)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

RILEY

Take over a rundown auto shop in a small town, they said. It’ll be fun, they said.

To be fair, no one actually said that.

If it were three months ago and someone told me I’d be fixing anything other than planes, I would have laughed right in their faces.

But… a lot can change in three months.

And some of those changes are better than others.

“Are those underpants?” I stare at the raggedy pair of polka dot underpants hanging over the tail end of a car like a flag staking its claim.

Rebel Hart, my new boss, screeches to a halt beside me. “What on earth? Hello? Is someone here?”

A crash erupts from deep in the bay and a man with thin hair sticking up all over his head rushes to his feet. He’s got an unkempt grey beard, bony shoulders and scruffy legs—which I can see because he’s wearing nothing but a dirty undershirt and boxers.

Polkadot boxers.

I guess I found the owner of the underpants drying on the car.

Rebel’s jaw drops. “Jimmy?”

“Rebel, wh-what time is it?” Jimmy peers at his watch and then his eyes widen. “Just a minute. Let me clean up.”

I watch Jimmy scamper around, shoving his skinny legs into work overalls, hiding his gnarly toes inside of worn boots and then hopping around the mechanic bay to push trays of beer out of the way.

Rebel stomps forward. She’s the owner of the garage and the reason I’m not couch surfing in the city, draining what’s left of my life’s savings while questioning my entire existence.

“Jimmy, are you living in the shop?” Rebel hisses. Jimmy freezes and blinks once. Then twice. His Adam’s apple bobs guiltily.

Rebel’s nostrils flare and she turns to me.

She’s dressed in a pink mechanic jumpsuit that matches the angry stain moving across her face.

By the tremble of her bottom lip, I can tell she’s feeling a lot of…

negative emotions right now. But she valiantly keeps it together and speaks in a tight but upbeat tone.

“Riley, I am so sorry. I asked Jimmy and the other mechanics to prepare the bay and wash everything down for today, but it seems like they had a busy schedule.” Rebel pairs the words with a sharp side-eye at Jimmy that could scrape off the most stubborn fuel tank sealant.

“How about you head to The Pink Garage first? April, my business partner, has some welcome drinks for you. If you just head back down the road, you’ll see our sign—”

“Hey, Jimmy. I’m Riley Carter.” I walk past Rebel and extend a hand to the older man.

Jimmy hesitates, glances at Rebel fearfully and then looks back at me.

I arch an eyebrow, keeping my hand extended.

“Oh, ah…” He wipes his hand on the side of his jumpsuit which dirties his palm even further with a new streak of grease. Noticing the mess, Jimmy starts to pull his hand back, but I catch it and give his hand a firm shake.

“Good to meet you, Jimmy. This place looks like it could use a decent sweep and mop. How about you tackle this half of the bay and I’ll take the other?”

Jimmy’s jaw drops like I just handed him a toothbrush and asked him to clean the roof in the middle of a heat wave.

A touch on my arm prompts me to turn around. Rebel is staring at me, a knot between her trimmed eyebrows. “You don’t have to do that, Riley. It’s not your responsibility.”

“You hired me to manage the shop, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but—”

I roll up the sleeves of my plain black sweater. I’m sure Rebel did a background check on me. She heard what happened three months ago at my old shop, yet she still took a chance on me.

I need to prove she made the right choice.

“As the leader, even if it’s not my fault, it’s my responsibility. Let me do the job you hired me for.”

Rebel’s eyelashes flutter and, though her mouth opens, no sound comes out of it.

I leave my boss to collect herself and make eye contact with Jimmy. Jutting my finger out to the side of the bay with the ramp, I nod.

The older man springs into action. “Just tell me what to do. I’ll get everything done.”

“I’ll call the other mechanics. They should be here too,” Rebel grumbles. The knot between her eyebrows still hasn’t gone away. “Jimmy, you and I will have a conversation later.”

Jimmy gulps. “Yes, ma’am.”

While Rebel stomps out of the autoshop to make the call, I take stock of the large, open space. Exposed brick walls remind me of the trendy cafes back in the city. Except these walls don’t smell like cinnamon and expresso.

There’s an overwhelming amount of dust and grease stains everywhere.

Bottles of engine oil, car lubricants and brake fluid crowd unorganized half-tilted shelves.

Empty oil barrels that have seen better days sit in the wide, open spaces where cars should be.

A quick glance above shows several missing ceiling tiles and at least two lights that have no bulbs.

“Jimmy, who owned this place before Rebel inherited it?” I ask, picking up one of the oil barrels.

Jimmy hustles over and takes the barrel from me. His wiry fingers grip the mouth as he turns it in a circle. “Stewart Kinsey. But he’s in the slammer right now.”

My eyes widen. “The previous owner’s in jail?”

“Yeah.” Jimmy grunts as he spins the barrel toward the back door. “It was a big deal around town. When people found out the Kinseys were stealing from—whoa!”

His juicy gossip meets an abrupt end when he slips and slides across the floor. The oil barrel slams to the ground as the old man windmills both hands to catch his balance.

“Jimmy!” I scream, running over to help him.

On my way, I step into an oil spill of my own. My work boots lose traction and gravity pulls me forward, moving me without my consent.

Jimmy falls backward, landing hard on his rear-end while I manage a much safer, but just as unsightly stop by bending forward and balancing on my hands.

Rebel’s boots thud as she streaks into the shop. “Riley! Jimmy! Are you okay?”

Jimmy groans, a perfect communication of his not-okayness.

I push up to my full height, my heart racing. “These floors are a safety hazard! Our lead technician would have a fit if we ever left the repair bay—”

I bite my bottom lip to seal my rant. This isn’t an airplane repair station and, technically, it’s not my job to complain about the state of things. I’m here to turn it around.

“I’m so sorry,” Rebel says, carefully skirting the oil patches on the floor as she approaches me. “I’ve been so busy with work at The Pink Garage that I haven’t been able to oversee Stewart’s old shop.”

Jimmy waddles past us, a hand on his back. His wiry face is creased in a grimace. “I’m gonna take a breather.”

“Do you need to go to the hospital?” Rebel asks, worrying her bottom lip.

Jimmy shakes his head. “Some rubbing alcohol and a smoke will fix me right up.”

While the old mechanic makes his exit, I brush away the sweat from my forehead. “When are the other mechanics getting here? This place needs more work than I imagined.”

Rebel’s lips tighten.

“What’s wrong?”

“Unfortunately, they won’t be coming in.”

I check my watch. “It’s working hours. On a weekday.”

“One said they took their mom to the hospital. And the other is at a job interview.”

“Didn’t you say there were four mechanics on staff? What about the last guy?” I ask.

“He didn’t answer the phone. I tried three times.”

“Did they know I was coming today?”

“They did.”

“Did they know that I’m…” I gesture to my chest, which is covered but unmistakable beneath my fitted sweater.

“Of course.”

I laugh.

Rebel’s eyes bulge.

“I’m sorry.” I chuckle and pull my lips in to stop the laughter. “I just…” I snort. “I feel like I’ve been here before.”

“I’m afraid to ask.”

I shake my head, smiling. “Sorry.”

“I’m the one who’s sorry.”

“It’s okay. Really. Planes and cars are different, but it’s kind of comforting to know that, no matter where I go in the trade, some things don’t change.”

“I wish they would.” Rebel folds her arms over her chest. “I hate that this is your welcome. At least come to The Pink Garage. Our shop is outdoors, but you won’t slip and fall. And we have pink lemonade.”

“Tempting. But maybe later. Now that I’ve seen the shop, there’s too much to do.”

“Are you sure?” Rebel looks like she wants to argue, but she backs off. “Suit yourself. I’ll call April and Cordelia over to help. It’s the least I can do.”

“Don’t bother the other mechanics. I’ll handle this.”

“But still…”

“Where’s the nearest grocery store? I need some cleaning supplies.”

Rebel tries to offer more help, but I talk her down until she gives me directions to the store. The autoshop is near downtown and in less than two minutes, I’m at the mart.

“I could have just walked,” I mumble, turning off my engine.

As I lean over to grab my purse from the passenger seat, I notice a man striding past my car. He’s tall with closely cropped hair and a blue T-shirt that highlights his impressive muscles.

But that’s not the reason I do a double take.

“Nat?” I gasp, eyes latching onto him as a familiar breathlessness takes over my body.

As if he heard me, Nat’s head swings my way. Sea-green eyes barrel right through my windshield. I screech and dive fully into the passenger seat.

My nose presses into the cushion and I’m reminded that I do not wash my car enough as the stench of sweat, dirt, and whatever years of caked up use have done to the fabric fills my nostrils.

Why am I hiding? This is so immature.

Despite the thought, I pull my hands against my chest and hold brutally still.

Nat gets into the car parked next to mine. I hear the purr of his engine as his car starts and then he drives out of the lot.

I wait a few beats to make sure he’s really gone and then sit straight up, eyes staring at the vacant spot where Nat used to be.

Time peels away.

Memories of a much younger me, anxiously waiting at the front door, fill my head. I can hear it now. The squeak of Nat’s beat-up, junkyard-rescue of a car limping into our driveway. Then his boots on the porch steps. Then his hand turning the lock.

‘Hey, shrimp.’

‘Hi, Nat.’

He would ruffle my hair before sauntering to my brother’s room to play video games while I retreated to my room to write really bad poetry about his emerald eyes.

I blink and the memory recedes.

What is Nathan Campbell doing in Lucky Falls?

The answer doesn’t matter.

Only one thing is clear.

I can’t ever, under any circumstances, run into Nat again.