Chapter 3
3
MARCUS
I make sure the tire holds air before lowering the lift. As soon as the SUV is on the ground, I jump inside and slowly back it out of the shop bay. Her scent assaults me instantly. How can a woman who only drove a vehicle a short time have her scent embedded into the seats like this?
Parking the vehicle next to the open shop door, I run back inside and holler at Dale, my employee. “Wanna follow me? I need to deliver this SUV.”
He nods, setting his tools aside and wiping off his hands on a shop towel. I run over to the sink, washing my hands a second time. I always take great care not to track anything into the vehicles I work on, using paper covers on the floor mat and seat, but this one has white leather seats and light brown carpet, so I use extra degreaser soap again. My luck, I’ll leave a smudge of rear end grease on me I didn’t notice and get it all over the fancy interior.
Finally, I climb inside the vehicle and wait for Dale, who rolls down the big overhead door and secures the building. When he climbs into an old Chevy I use as a shop truck, we head toward my cabin. It’s just after nine, and I can’t help but hope I can just leave her keys under the floor mat. The last thing I want is another run-in with the princess from LA. She consumed way too much of my thoughts last night.
And then a few this morning too.
Not to mention, the moment I pulled her rental into my garage, I’ve been consumed by her floral perfume. It’s like I’m surrounded by rose bushes, trapped in some garden without an escape. Like Ryan, it may look beautiful, but the scent tickles my throat and makes me want to sneeze.
Before I even make it a block away, I have the windows down. It’s a gorgeous Saturday morning, and the roadways are lined with cars. The diner is packed, as it will be from now to the end of the summer vacation season. I pass a line of trucks and SUVs pulling boats, four-wheelers, and campers, all headed out to the Bluff Preserves National Park.
Growing up in Pine Village, I’m accustomed to the onslaught of tourists who travel to our small northwestern Wisconsin town for time away. Fishing, camping, four-wheeling, and boating in the summer and snowmobiling and ice fishing in the winter. The cabins are rented and the campgrounds full. And my business keeps hopping through it all. I’ve worked on anything and everything over the years, having spent most of my life in the garage that once belonged to my grandpa.
I head for home, though the trip takes longer than normal, thanks to the added traffic. When I finally pass the lane that leads to my house, I feel a sense of belonging. I grew up in these woods, having lived with my grandparents in the very cabin I use as a rental when I was a young boy. When I was twenty-five, my grandpa deeded off a piece of land for me to build my own cabin, the one I live in to this day. Grandpa passed a few years back, and I just couldn’t part with it, despite the more than reasonable offers I received. Instead, I turned it into a rental and let a management company deal with it.
Pulling onto the lane that brings me back to the cabin, I take a moment to enjoy the cooler breeze blowing through the trees. It’s heavenly, the welcome reprieve from the impending arrival of the hot summer sun. When I reach the clearing, I park beside the porch, the sound of my shop truck idling behind me. Just as I make sure the windows are rolled up and I climb out of the SUV, the front door opens.
And out walks Ryan.
She’s wearing a pretty blue sundress, one that hugs the curves of her waist and the mounds of her tits. It hits just below her knees in a classy way, her toned, tanned calves on full display. This time, instead of wearing those ridiculous heels, she’s wearing cork shoes. That’s the only way to describe them.
“What the hell are those?” I ask, unable to take my eyes off her feet.
“What?”
“Those shoes.”
She glances down. “They’re Dior.”
“What?”
She rolls her eyes. “They’re designer. These are off the new summer line,” she informs me, lifting her heel and showing them off. “They’re made from calfskin.”
“Okay,” I say, drawing out that one word. “I saw those at Walmart last week.”
She huffs and crosses her arms. I wish I could say my eyes didn’t drop to her chest, but that’d be a lie. “These cost fourteen hundred dollars and were made in Italy. I doubt you saw them at Walmart.”
I scratch my head. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” Holding out the key, I add, “Here ya go, Princess. You’re all set.”
She snatches the key from my hand. “Thank you. What do I owe you?” she asks, digging cash out of her little bag thingy.
“No charge,” I state, turning to head back toward where Dale waits.
“Stop! I have to pay you,” she insists, following me to the passenger side of the truck. There’s no missing the big grin on Dale’s face.
“It’s fine, Ryan. Tire fixes like this only cost twenty bucks,” I say, pulling open the door.
She reaches out and grabs the door, stopping me from climbing inside the truck. “Here.” She thrusts a twenty at me.
“It’s not necessary. On the house.”
“I can pay,” she insists, placing her hands on her hips as she levels me with a glare.
“Didn’t say you couldn’t, Princess. This is what we call small-town hospitality. I understand that’s a new concept for a city slicker like you, but around here, we do things for others without having ulterior motives. Just say thank you.”
Her pink, pouty lips gape open before slapping shut. “Why are you so grumpy?”
I climb inside the cab of the truck and close the door. “It’s part of my charm.”
Her dark-chocolate eyes roll dramatically. “Charming isn’t what I’d call you.”
A smirk plays across my mouth. “See? It’s working already.”
“Whatever,” she grumbles, her attention turning to Dale in the driver’s seat. “Excuse me, I’m being rude. I’m Ryan.”
“Dale,” he says, reaching across the cab and offering her a polite handshake.
“Nice to meet you, Dale.” She lifts her chin and adjusts her dress. “I’m about to head to town and buy things for the cabin.”
“How long ya stayin’?” he asks, completely smitten with the woman beside the truck.
“A month,” she replies with a bright smile. “Any recommendations for an out-of-towner?”
“The diner has the best home-cooked food. If you’re lucky, you’ll stop by on meatloaf day.”
She wrinkles up her nose. “Meatloaf?”
“Don’t knock it till you try it, Princess,” I add, inserting myself into their conversation. “Let me guess, you’re a vegetarian? Or maybe vegan? I heard that’s all the rage out in California.” My sarcasm is thick.
“I am neither of those,” she retorts. “But I do limit my red meat intake. It takes the body longer to breakdown and process red meat, including meatloaf.”
I snort and shake my head. “Well, you better get used to red meat, honey, because we’re cow people up here in Wisconsin. Like your shoes.” I leave out the part she can find plenty of fish, poultry, and pork on the local menus too, but I seem to enjoy making her squirm in those fancy calfskin shoes she’s wearing.
“If you’re looking to do a little shopping, we got all kinds of little shops in downtown too, but if you need Walmart or any other big store, you’ll have to head to Hudson or even St. Paul, Minnesota.”
“Good to know, thank you,” she replies, flashing a real charming smile to the old-timer in the driver’s seat.
“We gotta get back. Those oil changes aren’t going to change themselves,” I mutter, ready for him to put the truck in gear and drive out of here.
“Maybe I’ll see you around sometime, Dale,” she singsongs with a smile.
“It’s a small town. I’m certain I will, ma’am.” He tips his dirty ball cap and gives her a grin. “Oh, and if you stop by the bookstore, tell Delilah Dale sent you. She’s my sister.”
Ryan beams and nods. “I will do that, Dale. Thank you for the hospitality and kindness. Maybe it’ll rub off on other people,” she says, glancing my way.
Dale snorts. “Fat chance of that happening. I’ve been working on this one since he was a young boy.” He adds a chuckle, causing me to shake my head.
“We really do need to get back to the shop,” I state, ready to put some distance between myself and her floral scent.
“Before you go, can I ask you a question?” she asks, turning her brown eyes on me. When I nod, she continues, “The water…what’s wrong with it?”
Confused, I start running through all the things that could be wrong with the plumbing. “What do you mean?”
“Well, the water is kinda…dingy and has a weird smell.”
“It’s well water, Princess. That’s rust.”
She makes a shocked face. “Rust?”
I shrug my shoulders and hold her gaze. “The pipes are old but up to code. There’s a softener that helps draw it out, but it’s not going to be sparkling clear like bottles of fancy water.”
She still just gapes at me, waiting for me to tell her I’m bullshitting her. All I do is give her a big, cheesy grin.
“Well, Dale, it was lovely to meet you, and I’ll be sure to tell your sister you sent me in,” Ryan says sweetly before taking a step back from the truck.
“Enjoy the holiday weekend and your stay in Pine Village, Ryan,” Dale says, throwing the truck into reverse and slowly returning to the dirty lane.
I feel her eyes on us as we go, but I refuse to look her way. If I do, there’s no telling what I’ll say or do. Like tell Dale to go back and drop me off.
That would be the dumbest thing I could do.
We head back to town, the wind blowing through the truck cab and drowning out the old Dolly Parton tune on the radio. I spot a few familiar faces mixed in the masses of people walking down Main Street as businesses start to welcome patrons for the day.
“So…your new neighbor seems nice,” Dale says, the smile evident in his voice.
“She’s okay,” I reply, keeping my answer polite, yet hoping he can tell by my tone I don’t want to continue this conversation.
“Pretty too,” he says after a beat.
I make a noncommittal sound and continue to look out the window.
“Very pretty, if you ask me. In a classy way, you know? We don’t see too many like her around here, outside of Sunday church.”
I sigh, knowing I’m not getting out of this discussion. “Yes, she’s very pretty.”
He’s silent for several seconds, and I start to think this little heart-to-heart is over. Unfortunately, luck isn’t on my side on this warm Saturday morning. “Looks to be single too, you know. I didn’t see a ring.”
“Doesn’t mean she’s not taken,” I reason.
“But she’s here alone, right? I mean, I didn’t see a guy with her, and she is here for a month. Sounds to me like she’s single,” he says, pulling into the lot for the garage. Instantly, I realize there are customers waiting. “Welcome to the start of summer,” he adds, parking the truck by the building.
As soon as I climb out, all thoughts of Ryan, how pretty she looked and whether or not she is single, fly out the proverbial window. There’s a line waiting outside my locked door, some locals and some out-of-towners, and I realize quickly my entire Saturday is probably shot. We’re usually only here until noon, but by the looks of the line, I’ll be here for a while after that. It’s a good thing Dale doesn’t mind the overtime, because it looks like he might be here for a while too.
Dale started in high school, working for my grandpa. He was friends with my old man, and the continued that friendship until the day my dad died. My dad enlisted out of high school and served in the Army. In his early twenties, he met a woman named Renee while stationed in Texas. They dated until he was shipped off, and six months later, he got word she was pregnant. Thinking he was doing the right thing, he married Renee—my mom—and moved her to Virginia.
Not long after I was born, my dad was sent overseas, where he was killed by friendly fire during a training exercise. The story I was told was not long after my dad’s funeral, my mom showed up at my grandparents’ doorstep and dropped me off. She claimed motherhood wasn’t for her, and she signed over all rights to my dad’s parents. Last I heard, she returned to Texas, but I haven’t tracked her down. Why would I?
I was raised by my grandparents, Nina and Michael, and I’m proud of that. I grew up in my grandpa’s shop, learning how to do oil changes and tune-ups at a young age, working right beside Dale and Grandpa. Besides my grandpa, he was the other man in my life, stepping in and filling the role of Dad whenever I needed it. He’s married twice over the years, but neither stuck. He’s got a daughter from the second wife, Callie, who’s twenty-three and living in Chicago with friends.
“I’ll run in and finish that oil change. I don’t think we have anything else on the schedule for today, right?” Dale asks as we approach the building.
“Nope. I kept it light for this reason,” I tell him, nodding at the customers giving me an annoyed look as I pull the key out and unlock the office door. “Sorry, folks. Had to go deliver a car. Let’s step inside into the A/C and see what we can do for all of ya.”
It takes thirty minutes to get through the line of customers. I schedule three oil changes for Tuesday, as well as some other mechanical work. If I could put it off until Tuesday, I did. Unfortunately, there are a few tire repairs and a few other issues that can’t wait.
My workday doesn’t last as long as predicted, but I definitely stay well into the afternoon. I sent Dale home at two and finished out the day by myself. Doesn’t bother me though. I prefer it that way, actually. All I had to do was turn up the music and work. I’ve always loved tinkering with vehicles, though, I do admit, they’ve slowly become more complicated over the years as computer technology now plays such a big part. It’s not just more difficult to fix, it’s a hell of a lot more expensive.
After closing up the shop for the night, I head out to the tow truck. I don’t usually take it home with me, except I will tonight. Holiday weekends are always busy, and it’ll save me a trip here if I’ve already got it with me at home.
“Hey!”
I pause and turn toward the voice, smiling when I see Logan Johnson pulling into the lot. “Hey,” I reply, nodding to his fiancée, Hallie. I spot their infant daughter in the back seat of her SUV, sleeping soundly in the air-conditioning.
“We’re headed to the cabin for the weekend,” Logan informs me. He owns the lumberyard and hardware store in town, and his future wife is a preschool teacher.
“Great weekend for it,” I say, leaning against the doorframe.
“We’re planning to fire up the grill tomorrow evening. Blair and Gabe, TD and Ellie, Gavin and Ava, and all the kids are coming over. You’re welcome to stop by. Should be tons of food,” Logan says.
As if on cue, my stomach growls, reminding me I barely ate anything for lunch today. I can’t help but chuckle. “Yeah, I’ll try to swing by. We’ll just have to see how busy it is,” I state.
Logan nods, understanding what I mean. “We’ll be there, and everyone else is coming any time after four. Maybe we can wet a line at some point.”
I happily agree to that. Fishing is one of my favorite pastimes, though I don’t get to do it nearly as often as I’d like. And don’t get me started on taking the old Jon boat out for a cruise. That’s even fewer and farther between.
“I’ll do my best,” I tell him as the baby starts to holler in the back seat.
Hallie reaches back and strokes her infant daughter’s foot. “Hopefully we’ll see you tomorrow, but if not, we understand. If you text us, we can run you over some food to your cabin.”
Wouldn’t be the first time someone has dropped off food from a barbecue at my place. I have good friends, even if I don’t get to hang out with them as often as I’d like.
“Later, Marcus,” Logan says, preparing to pull out of the lot.
“See ya.”
“Oh, and Marcus?” Hallie says, stopping me from walking to the truck. “Feel free to bring someone with you. There’s lots of single ladies in town for the weekend.” She grins and winks before they drive away.
Shaking my head, I make my way to the tow truck and climb inside. My mind immediately conjures up the image of Ryan, standing on the porch in that damn blue sundress and weird shoes. Her blond hair was down, looking soft and luscious, and all I want to do is run my fingers through it.
I blame Dale for this.
He wouldn’t shut up about how pretty she looked, and now it’s all I think about.
What I need to do is put her out of my head for good. She’s not my type, that’s for sure, and it’s not like we run in the same social circles. She’s here for vacation, and I have to work.
I probably won’t even see her the rest of the time she’s here.