Chapter Thirteen
DECISION
The repair shop smelled like motor oil and old engines. Daniel somehow kept the place cleaner than most restaurants in Fern.
Axel stomped over and claimed the jamb of the wide doorway before Whip finished greeting Daniel. Some habits were so automatic the man probably didn’t realize he was doing them.
“How long’s it been?” Daniel asked.
“Six months since I brought the Jeep in.”
“It’s due for a tune-up.” Daniel laughed and smiled at him.
Across the room, Axel scraped a boot loudly against concrete.
Whip quirked his lips.
There it was.
The same jealousy had surfaced with Tomas. Then Deputy Chase.
Now Daniel.
Different man. Same reaction.
A year ago, he might’ve questioned it. Might’ve convinced himself he was seeing something that wasn’t there.
Not anymore.
May was gone and so were most of Whip’s excuses.
If Axel wanted to keep acting like every man in Oregon was personally offending him by talking to Whip, that was Axel’s problem to solve.
He was done pretending he didn’t see it.
Done pretending he didn’t want more.
Sooner or later, Axel was going to have to decide what he wanted.
Whip already had.
Across the room, Axel started rearranging tools that didn’t need rearranging.
Daniel glanced over and laughed.
“Still does that, huh?”
Whip followed his gaze toward the doorway.
“Yeah.”
“I thought he’d grow out of it.”
“That’s optimistic,” Whip said.
Daniel laughed, and Axel stalked back over to them.
“What are you talking about?”
Daniel grinned. “Nuthin’.”
Whip shook his head and got down to business.
“So, question… has Cutter been through here?”
Daniel looked mildly offended.
“I would’ve called if he had.”
“You know I have to ask.”
Daniel sighed and leaned a hip against the workbench.
“Yeah, I know.”
“So, we’re looking for a pickup,” Whip said, giving the description.
“You know…” Daniel frowned. “That sounds like one I repaired a few months back.”
“Who owns it?” Axel said, prowling closer.
Daniel turned toward a file box and started flipping through work orders.
“Hang on.”
A second later, he pulled one free.
“Sissy Haskins?”
“That’d be the closest match to what you’re describing,” Daniel said.
Whip added the information to his phone.
“You two coming to the festival this weekend?” Daniel asked.
“Yes,” Whip said.
“What festival?” Axel asked.
Daniel barked out a laugh. “Oktoberfest.”
“First I’m hearing about it. Not sure we’re going.”
Whip swallowed back a laugh. Axel sounded personally offended nobody had consulted him.
“Sure you’re going.” Daniel pointed between them. “Can’t ever find one without the other.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Figure it out.” Daniel chuckled.
Axel rolled his eyes. “You’re an idiot.”
“Always together,” Daniel said. “I specifically remember the one summer you guys went to five festivals.”
“So?” Axel scowled.
“And that one time…” Daniel automatically glanced at him.
“You talking about ‘03?” Whip laughed.
“Yeah, that’s the one!” Daniel crowed.
“You remember fuckin’ 2003?” Axel snorted.
“Yep, because it was epic. You threw up on the outside of Miles Johnson’s truck.”
“It was bad beer.”
“You also threw up inside of the truck.”
“Still bad beer.”
Daniel pointed at him.
“You cried.”
“I did not.”
“You absolutely did.”
Whip laughed. “You lost a boot too.”
Axel turned on him. “I did not. It was a tennis shoe.”
“It was footwear,” Whip said. “My point stands.”
Twenty-three years later, Axel was still trying to argue his way out of history.
“See?” Daniel pointed at him. “He remembers.”
“Unfortunately,” Axel groused.
Whip chuckled. He remembered all of it, the cheap beer, the bonfire, the lost shoe, and Axel insisting he was fine right up until he wasn’t.
Grant and Grady stepped inside, sending the bell above the office door rattling.
Whip glanced over automatically, and Axel’s gaze followed.
Old habits. Years of military service and law enforcement had trained both of them to track who entered a room.
“Place is clean,” Grant observed.
Daniel’s smile slipped, and Whip caught it. Most people wouldn’t have.
“It’s procedure,” Whip said.
“Yeah,” Grady added. “Nobody’s accusing you of anything.”
“Good.” Daniel snorted. “My husband already thinks I spend too much time here.”
“People in relationships usually do,” Axel said.
Daniel pointed at him. “That’s rich.”
Axel folded his arms tighter. “Careful.”
“No, really.” Daniel grinned. “How long did your last one last?”
The humor vanished. Whip felt it before he saw it.
Axel’s shoulders locked, and the muscle in his jaw tightened.
Hell.
Before he could check himself, Whip stepped closer and rested a hand against the small of Axel’s back.
“Daniel.”
“Alright, alright.” Daniel held up both hands.
Axel pressed back against his palm and stayed there.
Yeah. Whip was done pretending he didn’t see it.
The tension beneath his hand eased a fraction, not much, but enough for him to know that Axel wasn’t going to clock Daniel.
“You’re being an ass,” Whip said more gruffly than intended.
Daniel laughed. “Fair.”
“Fucker,” Axel muttered under his breath and pulled away from his touch before heading for the door.
Whip watched him go and then looked back at Daniel.
“Still doing it.”
“Doing what?” Whip frowned.
“Never mind.” Daniel laughed.
Whip pointed toward the parking lot.
“Quit fucking with him.”
“Never gonna happen, my friend.” Daniel grinned and clapped him on the back.
“See ya later.”
“Don’t be a stranger!”
“Right back atcha,” Whip said before heading outside.
“So, what’s the plan?” Knox slapped his hands together when he approached.
“We find Sissy Haskins,” Whip said.
“You look a little too excited over there,” Grant told Knox.
“I’m not.”
“You sure?”
Knox gave him the finger.
Grant laughed.
Grady hooked an arm around Knox’s shoulders and steered him toward the SUV.
“Come on, sunshine.”
“Screw you, I’m not sunshine,” Knox grumbled but went along.
Whip looked toward Axel, who stood leaning one shoulder against the SUV.
Though rare for this time of year, sunshine glinted off the dark strands of hair and turned Axel’s eyes a brighter shade of blue than normal.
He wanted to see them darken with—
Axel caught him looking and arched an eyebrow.
Whip held his gaze a lingering few seconds before sliding behind the wheel.
“We’re not going to Oktoberfest,” Axel said after shutting the door and clipping his seatbelt.
“Yes, we are.”
“No.”
“You said that about the county fair.”
“That was different,” Axel muttered.
“You bought kettle corn.”
Axel scowled. “It was good kettle corn.”
Whip smiled and started the SUV.
“It was. Tammy makes it homemade.”
“You know the kettle corn lady now?”
“People talk.”
Whip snorted and pulled away from the curb.
Axel was still defending the kettle corn when they hit the highway.
Whip didn’t mind, though.
Because that right there?
This was them.