Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
MILES
My favorite part of owning my business is setting my schedule and working at my own pace. I’m efficient, and I like to work quickly, but I make it known that I won’t rush a job to meet someone else's deadline, and I won’t cut corners. Ever. I won’t find a temporary fix. I’ll step back, look at the big picture, and pinpoint the problem. Then, I’ll find the most effective solution.
Maybe that’s why I’ve never been big on paying for advertising or having social media. My schedule is booked for the remainder of the year and into the new one. Hearing someone’s plans to make over a car excites me, so I’d take the job even if I didn’t have time for it.
Which is also the reason I’ve put so much more on my schedule than I can actually do.
I need to hire someone. Quick.
My brothers hound me about being all work and no play, but I don’t agree. I have plenty of things I enjoy. I like to read thrillers, thanks to Hudson and his addiction to books growing up. I like to work out. Lately, that’s the only time I get to spend with Luca. I like to grill and try new recipes, mixing seasonings together. I like fixing things, which I think stems from my joy in problem-solving. Hence, my job is all about fixing things. Fixing things for other people, anyway. Doing things for myself is a different story. I also enjoy walking out of my three-door shop, just like I am right now, to soak up the sun and watch the people of Lovers mill around living their—shit . Shit .
I jump back into the shop, crouching down as I round the front of my current project. I slowly peek over the hood.
Bright red hair flashes across the street.
I drop my chin and let out a breath.
Part of me really did hope she would get the message or at least not show up to my shop this year.
I should have known I wouldn’t get that lucky.
I peek again and see her disappear down the street.
Maybe the fact that I wasn’t her first stop is a good sign.
Maybe she decided?—
“What are you doing down there?”
I jump, falling back onto my ass and hitting the toolbox behind me with my head.
“Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you. I just couldn’t find you, and I wasn’t sure if you were here or not.”
“I’m fine,” I snap.
I maneuver to my knees, letting my gaze discreetly take in the long, smooth, lean legs in front of me. From the bright red toes peeking out of her white strappy sandals all the way up to her blue cotton shorts and the orange shirt that reads Sunshine Mixed with Lightning.
But after I stand up fully and my gaze meets hers, I scold myself for being so observant of the woman standing in front of me.
Quinn Banks.
I should have known it was her.
I’m not proud of this admission, but every June, as soon as she reappears in town, those legs become the subject of my thoughts more than they should be.
She smiles, and I hate that it’s genuine.
I hate that every summer she has been here, I’ve made it clear I don’t care to engage in conversation with her, and yet she isn’t daunted that I’m a dick to her.
Shit, maybe I’m not great at communication. I have one woman who won’t stop texting me and one who pretends I’m not a jerk to her.
Perhaps I need to be clearer with my delivery.
“You’re not talking. Are you sure you’re all right?” she asks.
“I’m fine. I’m just trying to figure out why you’re standing in my shop right now. I didn’t invite you here, and as far as I know, you don’t own a car that would need to be repaired.”
That was pretty clear.
She nods slowly, smirking.
“No, you didn’t, and no, I do not. I’m actually here for another reason.”
I raise one brow. She should go on, because I won’t ask her what it is.
“I heard you had an apartment in the?—”
“No.”
“But you don’t even know what I’m going to say,” she argues as I walk past her to the office. It’s small, but it’s just big enough for a filing cabinet, a desk, and two chairs. Office work is my least favorite part of this business, as I’ve mentioned, so I like to keep it simple. The stack of paperwork on the chair behind the desk, though, is not so simple.
“I don’t need to,” I say. “You can go.”
“Well, I heard that you?—”
“I said no.”
“Can I at least give you my speech? You might change your mind. ”
“Doubtful.”
My gaze flickers to her legs, slowly moving up her body to her small waist and full chest. Everything about her screams my type. It has since the first day I laid eyes on her years ago.
“Miles, please,” she says softly. My name rolls off her tongue as if she’s begging. Pleading. It makes my heart pound quickly.
I let out a huff.
I don’t care much for that either.
I'm not blind, all right. I’m aware that I checked her out when she walked up. I’m aware that my body is attracted to her every single time she steps back into this town. I’m aware that, given different circumstances, I’d be asking her out and attempting to get to know her as more than friends or acquaintances or whatever you want to call it.
But that is not what’s happening here.
What’s happening is she obviously needs a place to stay for the summer, and I’ve already decided that the apartment is not going to be a tourist destination.
“I don’t rent to tourists,” I say, cutting off any hope she might have of winning me over.
She follows me into my office.
I move the stack of papers and sit behind the desk, leaning back in the chair.
Quinn crosses her arms and cocks her hip.
“I wouldn’t exactly call myself a tourist at this point.”
“Do you live here permanently?” I ask.
She narrows her eyes. “No.”
“Do you own a business here?”
“No.”
“Do you own anything here?”
She rolls her eyes at that one.
“No.”
“Then, by definition, you are a tourist. ”
“What dictionary is that from? Miles Asher is a pompous prick?”
Ah, so she can read a room.
“Is that your way of convincing me to say yes?”
“Maybe. Is it working?”
“No.”
“Tell me the real reason you won’t rent to me. You know my grandmother and my brother. My family lives here, works here, and owns more than one business here. That has to count for something, right?”
I twist my lips as I think over her response.
“Maybe it means I’m half local,” she adds quickly.
“That’s not a thing. I said no. Now, if you don’t mind, I have work to do.”
I get up and walk right past her, back to the garage.
I was convinced that walking into my office would make her think I was busy, but that didn’t work. So here I am, actually getting to work to make her go away.
I glance at her as she steps out of the office and heads out of the garage. But she stops, turns, and faces me over the two cars between us. I stand a little taller, waiting to hear her final argument.
“Why don’t you like me?” she asks. Her voice is smooth and without emotion. She’s not asking because she’s sad or mad that I refused to let her rent my apartment. No, she’s asking out of pure curiosity. It’s the first time in years she’s come right out and asked me about it, so it takes me by surprise.
I let out a small laugh and shake my head.
“Haven’t you figured that out yet?”
“Obviously not if I’m asking you.”
Touché.
“People like you come to this town, take what they want for however long they want it, and then they leave with no consideration for the people they are leaving behind. So no, I don’t want to rent to someone who couldn’t care less about this town and is just looking for something that benefits only them.”
Her lips part, but I hold my hand up. “I can keep being a dick, Quinn, or you can walk out that door and accept that, for once, you’re not getting your way.”
Her head jerks back as if I slapped her.
For a fleeting moment, I see something flash in her eyes.
It’s a look I can't describe, and it momentarily makes me feel guilty for being so crass.
Maybe Quinn isn’t as unfazed by me as I thought.
She walks away with her head down.
Part of me says I need to apologize, but the other says it’s not my problem.
My problem is finding the best way to avoid Cherry and keep my shop up to speed so that I can continue doing what I do best.
Fixing cars and keeping to myself.