Chapter 7
NICK
Iarrived in the Triple D parking lot at ten minutes ‘til ten.
The lot was empty and the building looked deserted.
I grabbed my duffle bag and toolbox out of the back seat of my Mustang.
I would leave the keys for Mason, who had agreed to tool around town in it and maybe give anyone watching the impression I was still in the area.
I stepped up onto the sidewalk in front of the bar and set my bag and box on a black metal bench.
A few minutes later, a beat-up pick-up truck pulled into the lot.
Mason hopped out of the passenger’s side and thanked the driver, Tom, a recently discharged vet who was now Mason’s neighbor.
I’d met Tom a few times. He had some issues, but with help from Mason and people like him, he’d find his way.
Tom and I exchanged waves as he pulled away.
“Well, you’re early,” Mason said in greeting. “Excited to get your trip underway?”
“Ten minutes early is right on time.” I handed him my car keys. “And I don’t think excited is the right word.”
Then again, it was exactly the right word when I thought about climbing into a confined space with Cara. But hitting on my driving companion was not the mission. I had a feeling I’d be reminding myself of that constantly over the next few days.
He angled his head toward the front door. “Come in for a cup of coffee?”
I shook my head. “Cara will be here any minute. I wouldn’t want her to think I stood her up.” I ignored the fact that I’d made our meeting sound like a date.
Mason chuckled. “You know the whole world doesn’t work on military time, don’t you?”
I grinned. “You know you’ve gotten soft, don’t you?”
Five minutes later, when Cara should have arrived, Mason joined me on the bench and handed me a white ceramic cup full of strong, black coffee.
“How late do you think she’ll be?” I asked.
He shook his head. “No idea. But it gives us a chance to catch up. I wanted to say thank you for what you did last night for Mackey and his trivia team. He needed a win, even a small one.”
“Just doing my job as trivia MC. And the upside is it gave me a chance to apologize to Cara and buy her and her friends a round of drinks. Something in all of that made her trust me enough to agree to this road-trip, so wins all around.”
“Is that what changed her mind?” Mason asked. “And here I thought it was your sunny disposition.”
“I’m sunny enough.”
He laughed. “Sure, keep telling yourself that.”
I took a big swig of coffee and nodded appreciatively. “Damn, you make a good cup of joe.”
We shot the shit for several minutes, something we’d been too busy to do for far too long.
The distraction kept me from glancing at my watch every minute.
Finally, at fifteen minutes past the hour and our agreed-upon meeting time, a small, gold hatchback with a nasty engine ping slowed down and turned left into the parking lot.
Cara hadn’t been kidding about the size of the car or the fact that she wouldn’t be traveling light.
The little box was packed to the gills. But I had a million things to worry about on this trip and car space wasn’t one of them.
I’d packed efficiently, so as long as she’d left some floor space in front of the back seat, and even if she hadn’t, I would make it work.
The mechanical soundness of her car was another matter entirely.
“Remember, you promised not to pull her into any of Lang’s shit,” Mason said quietly.
“I also promised to keep her car running. Any chance the auto parts store down the street is open yet?”
He shook his head. “Not until noon. But I’d look for a place sooner than later. That does not sound good.”
Cara parked in the spot in front of us. The song Hungry Like the Wolf emanated from the small car.
“That’s some old music for a twenty-something,” I said to Mason. “You’d think she’d be tired of it after listening to it for hours at the bar last night.”
“Cara?” Mason shook his head. “Nope. She’s a big fan of the era. In fact, it was her friends’ idea to have an eighties’ night to lure her back out into the world.”
“Because she’d been holed up, nursing her broken heart,” I said, remembering what he’d told me about her dirtbag ex.
This morning, Cara didn’t look heartbroken.
When she smiled and waved at me, it struck me that she damn near glowed.
That smile carried a thousand-watt charge.
She wore her dark hair in a long ponytail.
When she pulled off her white sunglasses, which matched her fuzzy white sweater, the hairstyle revealed more of her face, which was stunning.
It also made her look young. So damn young. Because she was.
I glanced down at my black tee shirt and favorite pair of old jeans.
I was dressed for a long drive and potential engine repairs.
My companion was ready for brunch at a yacht club.
The contrast served as a stark reminder that we were very different.
Too different for anything to happen between us.
If I did something stupid like put the moves on her in that frilly white sweater, I would dirty her all up.
Shit. That thought didn’t discourage me at all. In fact, it had the opposite effect.
“What’s on your mind, Nick?” Mason asked.
No way in hell was I sharing my deep, dark, and decidedly horny thoughts about this too-young-for-me woman with anyone. “It might have been nice to know about her eighties’ fixation before I agreed to let her pick the music for most of the trip.”
“You agreed to that?” Mason’s eyes were wide. “Actually, when it comes to music genres, this one’s not her first love.”
“What is?”
The Duran Duran song ended as I shouldered my duffle bag and picked up my small toolbox. Inside the car, Cara leaned forward, apparently focused on her car radio, then Bing Cosby’s voice boomed out the opening lines of White Christmas.
“No.” I swallowed the panic rising in my throat and shot a withering look at Mason. “She loves Christmas music? And you knew about this when you pushed me to travel across the country with her?”
He shrugged.
I scowled. “Just remember, old friend, payback is a bitch.”
He grinned as he slapped my back. “Safe travels, Nick. Oh, and merry Christmas.”