Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
Cordelia
I am more than happy to receive the text from Rebel. I gleefully interrupt the realtor who’s droning on and on about vaulted ceilings and private lake access. Then I inform everyone about the car that broke down.
Since it’s an emergency, neither Brennon nor Mills can convince me to stick around.
Mills is the first to recognize that I won’t be convinced, and he opens the car door for me.
Brennon gets in too, an annoyed frown on his face. “Why do you have to work at this hour?”
“Someone needs help. We’re the only functioning mechanic shop in town.”
“Aren’t there two other mechanics that work for you?”
“I work for them. I’m the rookie. Jobs like this are my responsibility.”
“It’s after work hours.” He scowls. “I can report them to—”
“No one’s reporting anyone,” I snap. False accusations are exactly how my bosses lost their garage building in the first place. “I worked longer hours than this when I was in the office.”
“Don’t you miss that?” Brennon asks, looking at me like I’m a different species. “Don’t you miss making decisions that impact thousands of lives? Don’t you miss having the power to try new experiments, make new connections? Invest in projects worth millions?”
Sure, there was some excitement to the life I used to live, but it also came with chronic stress, hip and back pain from a sedentary life, anxiety medication, constant headaches, and feeling like the rug was going to be pulled from under me at any minute.
I’d never go back.
“Office work doesn’t compare to what I do now.”
Mills tilts his head slightly, and I can tell that he’s listening too.
Brennon laughs. “How does repairing a rusty, old car compare to being the owner of the Davenport portfolios?”
“Simple. I’m happy fixing cars.”
He scrunches his nose.
“Are you happy, Brennon?”
The smile slides off his square face. “I mean…yeah. Once I get this promotion I’ve been gunning for, I’ll be happy.”
It’s a standard textbook answer for an MBA overachiever. But I found out, after losing Gwen, that there’s no magic number, no rare client, no billion-dollar acquisition, that will ever capture happiness.
“I’m glad you enjoy what you do. And so do I. I’m the happiest when I’ve got a scanner hooked up to an engine. I’m the happiest when I’m solving a problem that no previous mechanic could fix…”
I notice Brennon zoning out, and he picks up his phone to tap a message. My words fade into nothing, and I glance down at my dirty nails.
I used to have perfectly manicured nails so that I could shake hands with billionaires, investors, and politicians. Mom hammered into our heads the power of a firm handshake, clean hands, and a beautiful smile. Though I was the more rebellious one, not even I could escape those lessons.
My hands have never been clean or soft since I decided to become a mechanic. And I consider each callous a mark of honor.
Brennon finishes his text and turns to me with shark-like eyes. “I’m hearing a lot about being a mechanic. When do you intend to take over the company?”
“Did someone tell you I would?”
“Are you seriously going to do this forever?” He circles a finger, indicating the entire town of Lucky Falls.
Rather than answer, I lean forward. “Drop me off here, Mills.”
“I can take you to your bike or wait for you until your job is done,” Mills offers.
“Don’t. It’s late, and you and Brennon need to get back.”
“But—”
“She’s right.” Brennon massages his temple. “I think I’m getting a headache from all the fumes in the car. I’d rather go home too.”
Mills’s lips press into a thin line. “I won’t be dropping you off on the side of the road to meet a stranger. Even if it’s your job, you’re still a Davenport.”
“Mills, this is Lucky Falls. I’ll be fine. Besides, the police station isn’t far from here.”
Mills relents with a frown. “Send me a message, so I know you got back safely.”
“I will.”
He pulls the car to a stop and twists around. “Miss Davenport.”
“Yes?”
“Being a mechanic looks good on you. I missed that smile.”
My lips curl up in response, and I jump out.
Free from that suffocating backseat, I inhale a breath of the crisp air and observe the town.
The charming shops and cafes on Main Street light up the night.
Beautiful string lights dangle from colorful awnings.
It feels like I got sucked into a gorgeous Christmas globe—sans the snow and Christmas decorations.
I wonder if it snows in Lucky Falls? I look forward to seeing winter here.
“Good night, Cordelia!” An elderly couple waves as they walk by.
I think they were in the line at Phil’s Donuts this morning.
“Cordelia, hey.” An elderly man I’ve met a time or two in The Tipsy Tuna points at me as he shuffles past with his cane. “No bike today?”
“Thought I’d take a walk,” I say in passing.
“Enjoy!”
Feeling looser than I have in ages, I check the message Rebel sent me for the address. “The hardware store…the hardware store…”
I stop short when I spot a familiar vehicle parked on the side of the road. The hood is open, an unmistakeable sign that someone needs my help.
But that someone…is Renthrow.
I immediately quicken my steps to find him.
And then I freeze.
One side of me aches to run over. The other side wants to run the other way.
What if Gordie’s in the car?
That makes me take a step toward his truck.
Rebel or April can help.
I take a step back.
But they called you. This is a job. Your personal feelings shouldn’t get in the way.
I bite back my rising panic and take two steps in the car’s direction. Then I freeze again and turn back.
My brain is so muddled that I bump into a giant wall of a man. “Sorry,” I mumble without looking up.
“No problem,” the wall of muscles says. “But if you’re finished deciding whether or not you want to run away, you mind checking out my car?”
I freeze. My eyes slowly climb up the gray T-shirt snug against a barrel chest, shoulders that look like they’ve been stuffed with football shoulder pads, a square jaw covered in delicious sexy stubble, and light brown eyes.
My heart is instantly converted into a V8 engine, revving on all cylinders. I stumble back. Renthrow wraps an arm around my waist and tugs me out of the way as a bike whizzes past.
I stay close to him, my chest brushing against his and my mouth gaping.
“W-what are you doing here?” I squeak.
“My car broke down,” he says with a straight face. “Why? Were you doing something important before I called?”
My face is burning hot. “N-no.” Eyes bouncing around, I avoid his gaze. “Where’s Gordie?”
“At a friend’s.”
“O-oh.”
Renthrow’s eyes pierce mine. They’re more intense than I’ve ever seen, and I can’t breathe.
“I…should go look at your car.”
He doesn’t let me go. “Cordelia.”
I bite back a sigh. I really, really like how Renthrow says my full name. Those letters that had seemed so presumptuous and fussy coming from other people, feel special and valuable with him.
His eyes search mine. “I—”
“Well, aren’t you two cute as a pickled onion.” A woman I recognize as a reporter for the local news passes by. She’s wearing a sports bra and yoga pants, and she has on a set of purple headphones.
Renthrow’s eyes squeeze shut. “Kierra, can you excuse us?”
“Sorry for interrupting. You two enjoy your night.” Kierra grins wide and speeds off with her handheld weights.
I glance around and realize that Kierra isn’t the only one enjoying the show. We’re being watched by everyone.
Oh my gosh.
Renthrow’s practically hugging me in the middle of Main Street.
I step back.
Renthrow does too. But instead of walking off alone, his hand naturally slides down and cups mine.
“Let’s talk in my car,” he says.
He leads me to the car and situates me in the passenger seat. Then he jogs to the hood, slams it closed, and gets into the driver’s side.
My jaw drops when the car starts beautifully and he pulls into the road.
“Looks like the problem with your car’s been solved.”
His eyes slide to me and back. “Uh…it only gives trouble in special circumstances.”
My lips purse suspiciously.
“I’m sorry,” Renthrow huffs.
“For wasting my time and lying about your car breaking down?” I fold my arms over my chest.
He gives me another intense look. “For whatever I did or said to make you punish me.”
My eyelashes flap in shock. “When did I punish you?”
I watch the cautiousness settle into his features, as if he’s being very, very choosy with his words. “You’re not yourself around me anymore.”
“Of course I’m myself,” I grumble. See? Renthrow’s not the only one who can lie.
“You don’t look at me or joke with me or smile—” He stops and licks his lips. “Whatever I did, I’m sorry. And I won’t do it again.”
I glance away because he’s too cute when he’s groveling. “How do you know you won’t do it again? You don’t even know what you did wrong.”
“How about you clue me in then?”
My eyes slide to the window. “It was nothing.”
“No, it wasn’t. I had to fake a car problem just to get you to talk to me.”
“Which is insane, by the way.”
“I’m well aware,” he grumbles sheepishly. “And you’re right. I shouldn’t give a blanket apology.” He pauses and scratches the back of his neck. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was divorced.”
My eyes shoot to his. “That’s nothing to be sorry for.”
“Then,” he clears his throat, “was it something I said before dropping you home that night?”
I pick at a loose thread in my tank top. “No, I just…figured…by the way you were talking…that you were waiting for your ex-wife to come back.”
“What?” His eyes bug.
I gulp at his reaction. “You said you had all these dreams of creating a big family with her. And you were protective of her, even in conversation. You didn’t want me to say a bad word about her.”
“Because she’s Gordie’s mother. And if I want Gordie to respect her mom, I have to lead by example.
It has nothing to…” He runs his hands through his hair, smiling jubilantly.
“You thought I—no. No, Cordelia. I am not waiting for Gordie’s mother to come back.
That won’t happen. And I’m not interested even if it did. ”
A smile tries to poke through my serious expression, but it would be too obvious to grin like a hyena after he said that.
I do my best to play it cool. “Hm.”
He laughs disbelievingly. “I can’t believe that’s why you stopped talking to me. If I’d known, I’d have cleared this up a long time ago.”
“Why?”
He stops and looks at me. “Why?”
“Why do you care if I talk to you or not?”
“Because I…” He abruptly clamps up and stares ahead, looking uncomfortable.
“Because you what?”
“Because I thought we were friends,” Renthrow says finally.
“Friends…”
I sit with that word for a bit. Being friends is safe, tidy. I don’t have to torture myself by avoiding Renthrow, but there’s still enough distance that I can’t get too close.
And that’s what I want, isn’t it?
To be close without getting hurt?
“There’s no need to apologize. It wasn’t really about you,” I tell him, relaxing a bit. “I’ve been under a lot of stress with my mom moving to Lucky Falls.”
His eyes trail to me. “When is she moving?”
“Way too soon.”
A tentative smile blooms. “How about I make you dinner to take your mind off it?”
“Um…”
“Cordelia,” he says more confidently, “let me cook for you tonight.”