Chapter 7
Biology Class
Day 7
“I have a question for you,” I whispered to Dax, a grave look on my face. Mr. Gray’s lecture was particularly dry today, and I needed something to keep me awake.
Dax looked over at me, slouched in his chair, with his eyebrows raised in question.
I pursed my lips. “It’s important.”
He didn’t say anything, but his gaze never left mine.
“Why did…” I broke off and blew out a breath, rubbing my hands against my shorts.
I began again. “Why did ? —“
His lips parted ever so slightly, and I thought I detected a hint of concern on his face, but I probably imagined it. I went in for the kill.
“Why did the DNA cross the road?”
Dax shook his head slightly before looking back to Mr. Gray.
I couldn’t contain my glee, so I didn’t try. “Any guesses?”
He refused to look at me.
I leaned closer. “To get to the other strand.”
Dax leaned forward and put his face in his hands .
It turned out that the cafe, though grateful for the help, needed a day or two to rotate me into their schedule. Unfortunately, that brought me to Dax’s place first.
I arrived after lunch wearing an old volleyball t-shirt and cutoff shorts. Even though my hours were going to be tight, a full day of Legos was something a girl needed to ease into. I gave the two black garbage cans of Legos the side-eye as I made my way toward the doorway leading into Dax’s garage.
When I stepped inside, Larry Donalds, the town leach I remembered from my youth, was sprawled onto a barstool, talking loud enough over Dax’s music that the retirement home next door could probably hear him. Whatever story he was telling required arms flying and spittle spewing. Ultimately, Larry was harmless, if a little annoying. He never seemed to go to work anywhere and had a knack for always being where you didn’t want him.
My entrance hadn’t been discovered yet, so I stood watching the scene, unable to resist the opportunity to observe Dax in his natural habitat. While Larry droned on, Dax bent over the underside of a lawnmower with tools in his hands. With Dax’s obvious disinterest and Larry’s oblivious nature, it became clear to me that he hadn’t been invited into this space.
“How can you listen to Bob Dylan?” Larry asked when his story was over. “It sounds like he’s sick and he’s spewing it out all over the world.”
There was a long pause before Dax said, “I’m going to have to charge you extra for that, Larry.”
Larry’s big boisterous laugh seemed to shake the walls as he stood up, groaning as he did so. “Well, guess I’d better get home and see what the missus has cooking for me.”
“Is your missus the Sunrise Cafe?” Dax asked, his voice sounding almost bored. Larry had to be pushing fifty and was as single as they come .
“I hear the cafe is getting some new scenery. The senator’s daughter?”
Annoyance burned in my chest at Larry’s mention of me. I waited for Dax to tell him I would be arriving any minute, but he didn’t.
“And she’s closer to my age than the rest of ‘em. I checked. Maybe I’ll be getting hitched sooner than I thought.”
“Yeah, but she’d have to wake up to your ugly face every morning,” Dax said. “That might be a deal breaker.”
Another exuberant laugh from Larry, but he didn’t leave. Dax noticed as well. “Alright, get out of here, Larry. I’ve got work to do.”
Before I could change course or hide, Larry turned toward the door and spotted me, eyeing me with pleasure.
“Well, there she is now. You’re a sight for sore eyes, darlin’.”
Dax looked over at the mention of me, but I kept my focus on Larry, smiling politely instead of snarling at this man who was always very vocal about supporting my dad. “Hi, Larry.”
He ambled closer to me. “Well, if you’re not at the cafe now, maybe it’s a TV dinner kind of night.”
I sidestepped him, putting a small distance between us. Larry had no clue about the ick vibe he gave off. He probably wouldn’t believe anyone who tried to tell him.
“I can’t wait to run into your dad and mess with him over all this DUI stuff. What great timing.” He shook his head in laughter. “How long you back in town for, honey?”
Dax stood and ambled closer, clasping Larry on the shoulder and propelling him to the door leading out of the garage. “Time to go, Larry. Your leaf blower is on the list. I’ll have it finished in a couple weeks.”
While Dax walked Larry out, I took in all the details of the drafty room that smelled like dust and oil. The floor looked like it hadn’t been swept in months, but overall, I was mildly surprised at the organization. The shop floor was a disaster, littered with motors, lawnmowers, leaf blowers, chainsaws…along with a boat on a trailer, but his tools were hung and organized on shelves and pegboards throughout the room. I glanced at the large clock on the wall made from boat propellers. Two hundred hours seemed a bit excessive when I had only been here two minutes and was already itching to leave.
Voices from the other room came closer, and for a second, I wondered if Larry was coming back. To my surprise, Beau Palmer and another guy close to my age wearing a suit stepped into the room.
“Hey there, Lead Foot!” Beau greeted me, his uniform looking freshly pressed and a teasing smile on his face.
“Oh, are we friends now, Officer?” I folded my arms across my chest.
“Are you still mad about the citation?”
I shot him a look while he laughed and held up his hands. “Friends don’t let friends plow into their other friend’s shop and not get a citation.”
Despite myself, I laughed and shook my head.
Beau grinned before asking, “Do you know Phoenix? He moved here after you left, but he comes around every now and then.”
“Hi.” I smiled and waved at the dark-haired man in a suit. This mix of friends seemed to cover all the bases: a mechanic, a cop, and some sort of businessman, by the looks of it.
“That still looks bad,” Phoenix said to Dax, pointing toward the room where the tarp flapped obnoxiously, a reminder to the entire town what I had done.
“How did you not get hurt?” Phoenix asked me, his dark gaze incredulous.
“Ivy can thank the roof of the golf cart for her life,” Beau said, plopping down onto the stool Larry had last occupied. For a second, I wondered if I should offer to disinfect it for him before dismissing the thought. “And her hero, Dax Miller.” Beau leaned toward Dax and roughly squeezed his shoulders.
Dax shot me a look, amusement lining his features. “If I had to have someone smash into my building while under the influence, I would have hand-picked Ivy out of a crowd.”
I glared at Dax while the guys laughed and looked like they would have kept talking along that line, but Dax shifted the conversation, looking toward Beau.
“Any cats that needed saving from a tree today, Officer?”
“Not today,” Beau said, tilting the barstool against the wall. “I spent most of my time trying to convince an old woman to not harass the staff in the retirement home.”
“Who?” I asked.
“Her name is Virginia. She’s sassy, mean, and has a massive crush on the boat mechanic next door.” Beau nodded toward Dax.
“Can I file a complaint for harassment too?” Dax asked, bending to clean out the underside of a lawnmower. “She’s made me blush twice already today.”
“Gotta keep the goods hidden, Dax. You’re driving the elderly wild.”
At my confused face, Beau filled me in. “He goes around with his shirt off all morning, fixing boats out in the marina, and the old ladies can’t get enough.”
“It’s hot,” Dax protested, a light flush crawling up his neck.
“They think you’re hot,” Beau said.
“Their eyesight must be going too, huh?” I said, while Beau and Phoenix laughed.
“Have you clocked in yet, Books?” Dax asked, for the sheer pleasure of annoying me.
“Where would you suggest I do that?”
He motioned toward a calendar pinned on the wall to the side of me. One glance told me exactly what I needed to know. The calendar was dated August 1967 and showcased a voluptuous blonde in a mini skirt and red-and-white polka dot shirt.
“Are you serious? Why is it set on August?”
He shrugged. “I think she was Keith’s favorite.”
My heart grew heavy at that. Keith McMannus owned the repair shop when I was a kid and had been a beloved member of the island. His sudden passing a few years ago had rocked the whole town.
“The days of the week won’t line up.”
“Won’t matter. Just write it on the same date.”
“Doesn’t the judge need something more official?”
He shrugged. “He just gets a report from me when you’re done.”
I tapped the calendar with my finger. “I’d hate to ruin such an heirloom. How about I keep track on my phone.”
He shook his head. “I want it on the calendar. I’d hate for you to cheat me out of what you owe.”
“You’re worried about me cheating?” I asked incredulously as several memories of him attempting to cheat off my test in our biology class came flying back to me.
As if remembering the same thing, a smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d have a DUI on your record, but you just never know about people these days.”
Before I could respond, he laughed and pointed toward something behind me. “There’s a pen on that bench. Mark the time you arrive and the time you clock out each day. Beau, come help me for a sec.”
Beau wandered over to Dax, holding the riding mower steady while Dax set the engine into place. Under lowered lashes, I couldn’t help but watch. His hands moved fluidly from one part to the next, deft and capable and basically…it was startling how attractive a man that knows his way around tools could be. Let me be clear, it wasn’t Dax that was attractive. It was the idea of him .
“Why is it always me? Phoenix is sitting right there too,” Beau complained, taking great care not to get any grease or grass clippings on his uniform.
“He looks too pretty in that suit,” Dax said.
“I do look pretty in this suit,” Phoenix confirmed, helping himself to a Coke from Dax’s mini fridge under the counter.
“You need to hire some help,” Beau complained, as the motor was set, and the boys stood tall once more.
“Why, when I have you two over here every day, stealing my food? It’s the least you can do.”
“We come for the music of our forefathers,” Phoenix said dryly as The Beatles played in the background.
“We’re going to grab some lunch. You in?” Beau asked Dax.
He hesitated a moment, tightening something on the lawn mower. “Nah. I’m good.”
Deciding I should move my focus somewhere else, I scratched my initials on the calendar along with the time and tossed the pen back onto the counter.
I turned to Dax. “Where do I start? The Legos?”
Dax stood, brushing the grass off of his hands. “We’ll get to that soon enough, but since I’ve got you here, I thought you could do a few other things first.”
My body tensed, immediately wary, a new energy suddenly buzzing around the room. “Like what?”
“I’ve got a bathroom here that—“ he began.
My eyes widened. “No.”
“I try to clean it every so often, but I just don’t have the time.” He motioned around the room filled with machines.
“No,” I said again. “I’m terrified of what ‘every so often’ means to you.”
The straight face he tried to keep intact faltered a bit at that. “I haven’t had any complaints lately. But—” he motioned toward Beau and Phoenix—“this place is like an airport with people coming in and out all day. If you were to clean it, it would really help me out.”
“That’s not what the judge sent me here to do.”
A smile crossed his face then. Whatever his trap was, I had walked right into it.
“I believe the judge said that you’re required to give me two hundred hours to help rebuild the Lego car and…” He paused for effect before adding, “…whatever else my business needs. And right now, it really needs the bathroom cleaned.”
I immediately looked at Beau, who was now scratching his neck and motioning for Phoenix to stand up.
“Well, we’d better get going.”
“Wait!” I called. “Beau, is that true?” My time in the courtroom was blurry, to say the least.
Beau shot Dax an annoyed look. “That’s what you were asking me to look up the record for?”
Dax smiled.
Beau sighed and looked at me. “It’s true. It was specifically for the Legos, but Judge Baylor also added that it could be for other things in the business too.” He gave Dax a look before turning his attention back to me. “But if the other things part gets out of hand, come talk to me.”
Beau and Phoenix left after giving me words of encouragement and looks to Dax that I wasn’t sure how to decipher. Dax very obviously wanted me to hate the very idea of this. And…honestly…I did. But he would never know. So when he handed me the bucket of cleaning supplies, I took it with a smile.
Except, Dax smiled too, motioning with his hands. “It’s just around the corner.”
Using all my willpower, I kept a smile pasted on my face before disappearing into the public bathroom of a very manly repair shop.
A small unisex room with one toilet and a pedestal sink greeted me. Nothing fancy .
It also wasn’t…terrible.
In all actuality, it seemed like it had been cleaned somewhat recently. There were still streaks on the mirror. I wasn’t about to entertain the thought that Dax Miller might have cleaned the bathroom in his shop before he made me do it, but I did wonder if his mother might have secretly done it on a visit to her son. That seemed like a motherly thing to do.
Clean bathroom or not, I did, however, milk a bit of time. There was only so much I could do to get back at Dax, so of course, I cleaned like a sloth. I could play games too.
A knock pounded on my door. “Get out of there, Books. I know what you’re doing.”
“I’m not done yet,” I said, leaning back against the wall, languidly reading a book on my phone that I’d started on my plane ride.
“The longer you take in there, the worse it will be out here.”
“Worse? I’m having a great time!” I lied.
“Good to know.”
I forced myself to pretend to read for two more minutes—on principle.
Flinging the bathroom door open, I stepped out, peeling the rubber gloves off my hands, and looked at Dax, who was sorting through papers on the counter. Invoices, it looked like.
“You know what I decided in there?”
In an obnoxious power move, he waited five seconds before he answered, pretending to look busy scratching on the paper. “Not sure. Larry says that’s where he does his best thinking, though.”
“Ew.”
Though he wasn’t looking my way, his grin was enough to devastate me, but I rallied quickly. “You don’t scare me. So let’s do this. Throw me your worst right now so you can get it all out of your system.”
“Worst? I was being nice starting you in the bathroom. ”
“Come on, what’s next? Do you need me to Clorox the blood off all your chainsaws?”
The puff of laughter escaping his lips felt like a double win.
“I wouldn’t trust you with an assignment of that scope, but I’m touched to know you’d do something like that for me.”
There was an exhilaration between us as we each played our own version of tug of war, something so reminiscent of the past I couldn’t help but feel energized. I had forgotten what it felt like to be around someone I could tell exactly what I was thinking. And he was just obstinate enough to like it.
Eventually, he stood and walked toward a storage closet on the other side of the room. Was it me, or did he have a bounce in his step?
He pulled out a large book that looked like a parts catalog and leafed through it for a moment. Under the guise of nonchalant glances and boredom, I allowed myself a moment to soak him in. He wore a pair of jeans and a black tank top. His dark hair was messy and disorderly. It was nothing special. The best thing he wore was the smirk across his face, and I would never admit that in a million years. So it didn’t make sense how the overall appearance of this man striding toward me had me tucking my wayward curls shyly behind my ear as he grew closer.
“This way, Books,” he said, brushing past me to fling open the doorway into the hall before leading me into the main lobby of the shop, where the noisy tarp flapped against the breeze. It was only noon, but with the tarp blocking most of the light, it felt much later than that. Dax stopped at the first black garbage bin of Legos.
“Holy crap,” I whispered, caught at an unguarded moment, once again taking in the sheer number of Legos in the garbage cans.
“I feel like now is the time to tell you that I’ve never played with Legos before,” I said .
“I guess now is as good a day as any to fix the travesty that is your life.”
I looked at him, my arms out wide. “Where do I even start?”
With great aplomb, Dax handed me the book he’d brought in from the other room. I turned it around to read the cover, only to discover that it was the guidebook for the Lego car.
It was the size of a phone book. An old school one. The hefty brick-sized ones you used to get in the mail before that thing called the internet was invented.
“One piece at a time, Books. Be sure to follow the directions to the letter. You’d hate to have to restart halfway through. Good luck to you.” He began making his way back toward the garage when my voice called out in a panic, “Wait! Where are you going?”
“Back to work.”
“I thought you were going to help me.”
He raised an eyebrow. “What made you think that?”
“I don’t know what I’m doing. And you…”—I motioned toward the Legos with my hands—“must love Legos.”
He smiled, a wolf on the scent. “I do love Legos. But some of us don’t have the luxury of playing all day.”
“Dax!” I yelped when he started moving again. “What do I do?” I hated that my voice was laced in panic, but I couldn’t help it. My brain was shutting down. The sheer number of Legos would be overwhelming to even the biggest Lego enthusiast, not to mention someone who had never really done them before.
Though I could have imagined it, a faint shadow of compassion crossed his face as he took me in, probably looking like Albert Einstein in a panic, hair and eyes wild in frantic alarm.
“If it were me, I’d dump the Legos out and start organizing them by type before you crack that book open. Or else you’ll be searching for each piece for days. ”
He took his leave, calling out his final parting shot before he left the room.
“Don’t forget to clock out when you’re finished.”
After a moment, I dumped a pile of Legos onto the ground and began looking for similar shapes. I suppose little boys everywhere might be jealous of an assignment like this, but other than the fact that I did feel bad about destroying it, being locked away by myself to build a Lego car of this magnitude felt like the worst kind of torture.