Chapter 5
Chapter Five
My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of Fernando tapping on the driver’s window. Since I can’t roll it down, I open the door.
“Do you have a problem, Ava?”
Reluctantly, I nod. “I think the battery’s dead.”
“That’s no bueno.” His eyes flicker from my car to his. “I have cables in my trunk. Do you want me to try jumping it?”
“That’d be great. That way I can at least get it to the garage on the other side of town. We don’t have decent roadside service up here like we did back in Colorado.”
“I learned that lesson the hard way. I had a flat my first week here. I found out pretty quickly it’s better if I fixed the issue myself,” he says.
“Do you know how to fix cars?”
“Not everything, but enough. My abuelo owned a garage. Growing up, I helped him out over the summers and picked up a couple of skills.”
“I wish I could do stuff like change a tire. My dad tried to teach me when I started driving, but I’m hopeless with it. I can operate on any animal, but give me a car and all I can do is use my phone to call someone else.”
An image of Dylan appears in my mind. The last time I had a major problem, he was the person I called.
It was actually one of the few times we got into a major argument.
He didn’t like the fact that I still drive the same car I’ve had since high school, calling it a safety hazard. He may or may not have been right.
As long as my truck is kept in decent running condition, I don’t see a reason why I have to give up on it. We didn’t speak for a few days. That was the longest period of time we’d gone being mad at one another. Until now.
“Do you mind popping the hood?” Fernando asks.
“Sure.” I reach under the dash.
“Gracias. Let’s take a look at what’s going on.” I watch as he walks to the front, props the hood upright, and leans forward to inspect the engine. “You’ve got an interesting mix of parts,” he calls out. “How old is this truck?”
“Twenty or twenty-five years? It was my dad’s before it was mine. I had it in North Carolina and Colorado before here.”
He lets out a low whistle. “They don’t make them like they used to.”
“They don’t,” I agree.
He inhales sharply. I hear him muttering under his breath.
“What? Did you find something?” I stumble out of the driver’s seat and to the front.
Fernando nods grimly. “It’s not your battery.” He points to a crevice and some gears. “It looks like your timing belt snapped.”
I stare, not having a clue if that’s an easy fix or not. “Uh . . .”
“The timing belt keeps all the parts of the engine running in sync. When they get old, snapping is common. You just need a new one. Everything else looks like it’s in good shape.”
“That’s a relief.” I rub the back of my neck. I just hope it doesn’t cost an arm and a leg to fix. It’s never the parts that cost a ton, it’s the labor.
“Unfortunately, that means your car will have to be towed to a garage.” Fernando unlatches the hood and closes it. “It’s not drivable without the part.”
My heart sinks. I’ll have to rent a car to get through the week. Another expense I didn’t account for. Daphne and Brian need their vehicles for work. I can’t see my parents lending me theirs. Mom does a lot of volunteer work and won’t want to cancel anything.
“Can I give you a ride home or anywhere else?” Fernando asks.
“I’ve already taken up so much of your day.” I sigh deeply. “I’ll call my sister.”
“Ava, it’s fine. Like I said earlier, I really didn’t have any plans today.” He leans against the car. “I’m already here. Let me make things a little easier for you.”
Do I take him up on the offer or do I refuse like a normal polite person? It’s an internal tug of war. I hate being an inconvenience on him. But I’d like to get out of here and sort out my transportation for the remainder of the week ASAP.
“Only if you let me buy you lunch so we’re even—assuming you haven’t had lunch.”
“I have, but I wouldn’t mind coffee and a dessert.”
“Deal.”
He flashes me a smile that would make me buy whatever toothpaste he was selling. I dry swallow. “Great. Dessert it is.”
The tow-truck driver quotes me a three-hour wait. I’m not happy about it, but it’s Sunday afternoon and I live in a small town. What are you going to do about it? While we wait, Fernando and I head across the street to Main Street Brews.
“Have you ever been here?” I ask as the hostess seats us in a booth next to the window. It’s quiet, and only two other couples are occupying the adjoining booths. Soft piano music plays overhead.
“No, but I’ve driven by a few times. I usually grab my coffee at Norma’s on the way to work.” He cracks open a menu and studies it. “What’s your favorite thing to order?”
“This time of year, it’s definitely the pumpkin or pecan pie.”
“That good, huh?” He arches an eyebrow and glances over the top of the menu. “How would you compare it to what the Lucky Dog serves?”
“Um . . . I guess I’d say it’s a dead heat.”
Fernando chuckles. “I’ll have to let Tim know he’s got some competition.”
“How long has he worked at the diner?” I ask, wondering if what his friends do might give me a hint at what Fernando’s job is. He’s mentioned working with Gemma.
“I have no idea, but I can tell you it’s not his day job. Tim’s a middle-school teacher.”
“Oh.” Another theory out the door. Fernando seems to have a calm demeanor that’s great for being around kids, but he doesn’t strike me as the teaching type. Especially when he’s taking a month-long vacation. “Why was he working in a food truck if he’s a teacher?”
“Tim’s one of the Lucky Dog’s best customers. He’s good friends with the owner too. Last fall, the guy asked if he wanted to become an investor. He was thinking about expanding into the food truck scene.”
I blink. “And Tim said yes?”
Fernando nods. “Mm-hmm. Once the truck was bought, Tim got curious and wanted to see how it all worked. So he jumped in one weekend to help out.”
“And . . . he liked it?” I guess.
He nods again. “Thought it was a blast. Now he and Gemma work one weekend a month on the truck. Just for fun.”
“That’s too funny.”
He glances over the menu again. “Have you ever tried the apple pie here?” he asks.
“Yeah, but it’s been a while,” I admit.
He snaps the menu closed, eyes sparkling with mirth. “Then we should refresh your memory.” He drums his fingers against the table. “What if we order one of everything on the seasonal menu. That is if you don’t mind splitting them.”
“Sure.” I take a sip of water. Seeing all the pies in the display case when we walked in made my mouth water. I’m hungry and I have no shame. I’m totally willing to try some of everything. After all, pies are a much better lunch than the mac and cheese I was planning to make.
A waitress approaches us. “Hi. How y’all doing today? Can I get ya started with anything?”
“I’d like to try that apple cider latte.” Fernando hands back his menu. “And one of every pie on the seasonal menu.”
“And you, ma’am?”
“A pumpkin spice latte please. No food for me. We’re splitting.”
The waitress jots everything down and promises she’ll be right back with our order, extra plates, and cutlery. In total, we’re about to sample eight different pies. Thank goodness my scrubs have a stretchy waistband.
“Whatever we don’t finish, I’ll take back to the office. Vicki will love it,” I joke.
“That’s thoughtful of you.” Fernando opens a napkin and spreads it on his lap.
“Not really. It’s more that she loves free food.”
“She sounds like some of my coworkers. The high schoolers are always looking for leftovers from the weekend birthday parties.”
We both laugh. Then he excuses himself to use the bathroom.
So he does work with kids. Hmm. What type of job would have insanely early hours and involve teenagers and birthday parties? I stare out the window, watching some of the traffic on Main Street pass by. Could it be a place like Chuck E. Cheese?
My brain conjures an image of Fernando in a giant mouse costume, roller skating around the restaurant from table to table.
I shake with silent laughter. As amusing as that is, being the top mouse wouldn’t be a job that pays enough to be a full-time career.
Unless he’s a manager or franchise owner. That’s a possibility.
Just as Fernando returns, the waitress rolls up with a small cart holding our desserts. “Here ya’ll are. I have the boysenberry, the pecan, the sweet potato, the peach crumble, the pumpkin, the Dutch apple, the triple berry, and the mince pie.”
My eyes discreetly rove Fernando’s body as he moves his arms, organizing our plates.
I take in how his biceps flex and extend through the fabric of his shirt.
They’re large enough to impress a Marine sergeant drill instructor.
It strikes me that Fernando would fit right in with the buff male vets from the Lake Wakahanra Animal Hospital.
Is he actually a vet? Could he have been playing me the entire time to get the inside scoop on my clinic?
“These look delicious! Good call on the pies,” he says, flashing me a schoolboy grin. It’s cheeky and unassuming—the same look he gave me the day we met. My breath hitches. No, he can’t be a spy. I’m positive he didn’t know what to do with his friend’s cat.
“Would you like some whipped cream?” the server asks.
“No, thank you,” Fernando and I both answer at the same time.
“I don’t blame you. If you need anything else, let me know.”
My attention returns to our food. I stare at our selection with wide eyes and wonder if perhaps we are being too ambitious. “I think my eyes might’ve been bigger than my stomach.”
“That problem will be solved once you take a bite of each. Don’t feel like you have to eat all of them, just pick your favorites.
The rest, like you said, can go to Vicki or to the teens at work.
” Fernando meticulously cuts each slice in half with the precision of a surgeon.
“Shall we go from sweet to savory or savory to sweet?”