Chapter 4
T he next morning, I woke up feeling like I'd chugged a gallon of coffee and chased it with a Red Bull. Something about Dani had me buzzing like a teenager who just discovered their first crush wasn't actually their cousin. As I got ready, I found myself humming some cheesy pop song, grinning like an idiot. It was weird—this lightness, this feeling like maybe, just maybe, the universe wasn't actively trying to screw me over for once.
When I rolled into the garage, Xander was already there, shocking absolutely no one. The guy was like a robot programmed to fix cars and make snarky comments.
"Well, well, well," he drawled, smirking like he'd just caught me watching porn. "Look who decided to grace us with their presence. What's got you looking so chipper? Finally figure out which end of the wrench to use?"
"Morning to you too, sunshine," I shot back, my good mood refusing to budge. "Can't a guy just be happy without the third degree?"
"Sure," Xander said, rolling his eyes so hard I thought they might fall out of his head. "And I'm secretly Beyoncé. Come on, spill it. Did you finally make a move on Bookstore Barbie? Or are you just high on engine fumes?"
I chucked a greasy rag at him, which he dodged with the grace of a drunk ballerina. "A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell," I said, trying to sound dignified.
"Since when are you a gentleman?" Xander snorted. "Seriously, man. I need details. Bri's been bouncing off the walls since you started making googly eyes at Dani."
"Let's focus on work, shall we?" I said, changing the subject faster than a politician caught in a scandal. "We've got that '69 Camaro coming in today, remember?"
Xander groaned but nodded. "Fine, keep your secrets. But don't think this interrogation is over, buddy."
We dove into our work, the familiar cacophony of the garage wrapping around us like a comforting, oil-stained blanket. There was something soothing about the symphony of engines and the clang of tools. It was a place where everything made sense, where hard work paid off, and you could see the fruits of your labor—even if those fruits were covered in grease and smelled like gasoline.
As the morning chugged along, my mind kept wandering back to Dani. I wondered what she was up to, if she was thinking about me too. I found myself looking forward to seeing her again, to diving deeper into the mystery that was Dani the Bookstore Babe.
The roar of a motorcycle engine yanked me out of my Dani-induced daydream. I looked up to see my dad, Mac, rolling into the garage like he owned the place—which, to be fair, he did. He dismounted with the ease of a cowboy in a Western, his presence demanding attention like a car alarm at 3 AM.
"Hey, Dad," I called out, wiping my hands on a rag and trying not to look like I'd just been fantasizing about a certain bookstore owner.
"Jax," he nodded, a proud smile on his face. "How's it hanging? Still playing with your little tools?"
"Good, busy as always," I replied, ignoring the jab. "What brings you to our humble grease pit?"
"Just making sure you haven't turned the place into a strip club yet," he said, looking around the garage. "Or worse, a vegan café."
"Everything's running smoother than your pickup lines, old man," I assured him. "We've got a couple of big projects, but nothing we can't handle."
"That's my boy," Mac said, clapping me on the shoulder hard enough to make me wince. "Keep up the good work, and maybe one day you'll be half as good as me."
As he made his rounds, chatting with Xander and inspecting our progress like a drill sergeant on a power trip, I couldn't help but feel a mix of pride and mild annoyance. My dad had built this place from nothing, and it was both an honor and a pain in the ass to carry on his legacy.
When he was done with his inspection, Mac sauntered back to where I was elbow-deep in an engine. "Got a minute to chat, son?" he asked.
"Sure," I said, bracing myself for whatever fatherly wisdom—or embarrassing story—was coming my way.
We walked to a quieter corner of the garage, and Mac turned to me with an expression that was equal parts proud and constipated. "I've been hearing some good things about you, Jax. From the guys, from Xander, even from some of the customers who aren't blind or senile."
I felt a swell of pride but kept my face as neutral as a Swiss bank account. "Just doing my job. You know, fixing cars, charming customers, occasionally performing miracles. The usual Tuesday."
"You're doing more than that," Mac said, his eyes boring into mine like he was trying to read my mind. "You're making a name for yourself, building something strong here. I'm proud of you, even if you do dress like a homeless rock star."
"Thanks, Dad," I said, feeling the weight of his words and trying not to get emotional. Mechanics don't cry, after all.
"And I hear there's a new lady in your life," he added with a grin that could only be described as shit-eating.
I chuckled, shaking my head. "What, do you have a crystal ball hidden in that leather jacket? Or just really nosy friends?"
"Small town," he said with a shrug. "Now spill the beans before I have to resort to torture. And by torture, I mean showing your baby pictures to the entire town."
"Her name's Dani. She owns the bookstore in town. She's... different. Smart, passionate, and she doesn't take any crap from anyone," I said, a goofy smile spreading across my face like an oil stain. "She's like a tornado in human form—beautiful, unpredictable, and likely to leave me breathless and possibly homeless."
"Sounds like a keeper," Mac said, nodding approvingly. "Just remember, balance is key. Don't let your love life overshadow your work, or vice versa. And for the love of God, use protection. I'm too young and handsome to be a grandpa."
"I know, Dad. I'm figuring it out," I assured him, trying not to die of embarrassment.
"Good. Keep it up, Jax. You're doing great," he said, giving me a firm pat on the back that nearly sent me face-first into a toolbox.
As I watched him ride away, looking like a slightly grayer version of the Fonz, I felt a renewed sense of determination. I wanted to make my dad proud, to build something that would stand the test of time. And with Dani in my life, it felt like I was on the right path. Or at least, on a path that wasn't leading straight to a cliff. Baby steps, right?
The rest of the day zoomed by like a NASCAR race on fast-forward. Customers kept rolling in faster than donuts at a police convention, each one bringing a new puzzle for my grease-monkey brain to solve. It was the kind of day that had me buzzing like I'd mainlined Red Bull – exactly my cup of motor oil.
By the time the sun was playing hide-and-seek with the horizon, I was elbow-deep in an engine that was being more stubborn than a toddler at bedtime. That's when my phone decided to do the cha-cha in my pocket. I fished it out, half-expecting it to be Xander with another "urgent" meme. But nope, it was Dani, making my heart do a little happy dance.
Dani: Hey grease monkey, wanna grab a coffee later? I promise not to bore you with Shakespearean sonnets. Unless you're secretly a closet poet?
I grinned like I'd just won the lottery (or found a perfectly preserved '69 Camaro).
Me: Coffee sounds great. And hey, I'll have you know I'm very cultured. I can quote "Fast and Furious" in three languages.
Dani: How about 5? At that hipster joint down the street? We can debate the finer points of horse-drawn carriages vs. muscle cars.
Me: It's a date. I'll bring my vast knowledge of ye olde transportation. Did you know chariots were the original hot rods?
I shoved my phone back in my pocket, feeling giddier than a kid on Christmas morning. The thought of seeing Dani had me more revved up than a street racer at a green light.
When the clock struck 4:30, I wrapped up faster than a NASCAR pit crew. "Hey, Xander, I'm outta here. Got a hot date with destiny. Or maybe just coffee."
Xander smirked like he'd just heard the world's dirtiest joke. "With Bookworm Barbie, I bet. Try not to drool on her, Romeo. It's not a good look."
"For your information," I said, puffing up like a peacock, "I do not drool. I merely... appreciate intensely. With my eyes. And maybe my mouth a little open."
"Have fun, lover boy," he teased. "And don't do anything I wouldn't do."
I laughed, heading for the door. "That leaves the field wide open, doesn't it? Your moral compass is more like a roulette wheel."
As I strolled to the café, my stomach was doing more flips than an Olympic gymnast. This thing with Dani felt real. Exciting. Scarier than trying to merge onto a highway during rush hour.
I got to the café early, my hands sweatier than a bodybuilder's armpit. Through the window, I spotted Dani, already camped out at a table with two steaming mugs. She was nose-deep in a book, her face scrunched up in concentration like she was trying to decode the Da Vinci Code.
Holy horsepower, she was gorgeous. Her dark hair was in a messy bun that looked like it had been styled by a tornado – in the best way possible. She was nibbling on her lower lip, a habit that was more distracting than a check engine light.
Taking a deep breath that could've inflated a tire, I pushed open the door and sauntered over. "Hey," I said, my voice raspier than an old muffler. "Hope I didn't keep you waiting. Traffic was murder. You know, all those horse-drawn carriages clogging up Main Street."
Dani looked up, her smile brighter than high beams on a dark road. "Hey yourself, grease monkey. Not at all. I was just brushing up on my 19th-century slang. Did you know 'butter upon bacon' meant extravagant?"
I chuckled as I plopped down, feeling my nerves melt away faster than ice cream on a hot engine. "No car chases in that book? How did they even sell copies? Next you'll tell me there are no explosions in Pride and Prejudice ."
"Hate to burst your bubble, but the most explosive thing in Pride and Prejudice is Mr. Darcy's smoldering looks," Dani said, her face deadpan.
"Sounds like a real page-turner," I said, taking a swig of the coffee she'd ordered. It was perfect – strong enough to wake the dead and black as motor oil. "So, how was your day in the wild world of retail?"
Dani laughed, the sound making my heart rev like a finely-tuned engine. "Oh, you know, just another day in paradise. I had to break up a heated debate about whether Dickens or Austen was the superior author. It almost came to book-throwing."
"Clearly, they've never seen a group of mechanics argue over the best way to soup up a Honda Civic," I replied with a grin.
We fell into an easy back-and-forth, like a well-oiled machine. Dani gushed about a new shipment of books, her eyes sparkling brighter than a freshly waxed sports car. I found myself hanging on every word, captivated not just by what she was saying, but by the passion revving her engine.
I returned the favor, regaling her with tales from the garage, including Mac's visit and his not-so-subtle nosiness about her. "I think he's more invested in our relationship than we are," I joked, then felt my face heat up faster than an overworked radiator. "I mean, not that we're in a relationship. Unless we are? I mean, we could be. If you want. Or not. No pressure. I'm cool either way. Cooler than a cucumber. In a freezer. On Pluto."
Smooth, Jax. Real smooth. About as smooth as gravel in a gearbox.
But Dani just smiled, reaching across the table to take my hand. Her touch sent a jolt through me like I'd just grabbed a live wire. "I like the sound of that," she said softly. "A relationship, I mean. With you. Not with Pluto. Although long-distance might be easier..."
I felt a wave of relief wash over me, followed by a surge of happiness that had me flying higher than a rocket-powered monster truck. "Yeah?" I said, grinning like I'd just won the Indy 500. "I like the sound of that too. As long as you don't mind dating a guy who sometimes smells like a gas station had a baby with a tire shop."
We sat there for a moment, just looking at each other, our hands intertwined on the table like a perfectly executed engine rebuild. The world around us faded away, leaving just us in our own little bubble of coffee-scented bliss.
"So," Dani said, a mischievous glint in her eye, "does this mean I get free oil changes for life?"
I laughed, feeling lighter than I had in years. "Only if I get free books. And maybe the occasional dramatic reading of car repair manuals."
"Deal," she said, sealing it with a squeeze of my hand. "But fair warning: I might throw in some Shakespeare just to keep you on your toes."
As we continued chatting and laughing, I couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, I'd finally found my perfect co-pilot for this crazy road trip called life. And I was more than ready to see where this journey would take us.
"So," Dani said, her eyes twinkling like headlights on a dark road. "Now that we're officially an item, can I start leaving my trashy romance novels all over your man-cave?"
I snorted, giving her hand a squeeze. "Only if I can stash my greasy rags and rusty wrenches between your precious first editions."
"Deal," she grinned, looking like the cat who got the cream. "But if you get even a speck of oil on my signed copy of '50 Shades', you're sleeping in the garage, mister."
"Yes, ma'am," I saluted. "I'll be on my best behavior. Scout's honor."
We kept yakking and cackling like a couple of hyenas on laughing gas. I felt more at home than a spark plug in a cylinder.
The sun had clocked out by the time we finally rolled out of the café, strolling down the street hand-in-hand like a couple of lovesick teenagers. The night air was nippy, but Dani's presence was warmer than a well-tuned engine.
"So," I said as we hit the corner where we'd have to part ways. "Same bat-time, same bat-channel tomorrow?"
Dani chuckled. "It's a date, grease monkey," she purred, planting a smooch on my cheek that left me revving like a V8.
As I watched her sashay away, bouncing like a perfectly balanced tire, I felt like I'd just won the Daytona 500. Sure, we were as different as a Prius and a Mustang, but together, we purred like a finely tuned machine.
Whistling my way home, probably looking goofier than a clown at a funeral, I realized this was just the starting line. The green flag of something real, something thrilling, something that could flip my world upside down.
Bring it on, baby, I thought, grinning like I'd just discovered nitrous. I was ready to burn rubber on this wild ride with Dani. Because sometimes, the craziest road trips turn out to be the best ones. And this trip? We were just hitting the gas.