Page 29 of PenPal Hero

They reached the main part of town and turned onto East 1st Street. And there was his shop between a laundromat and a tire repair place. The sign read WINCHESTER AUTO DETAILING in fat capital letters. Since it was only a quarter past six, Holt’s new sign was still lit up. He had the timer on it set to turn off at the same time the streetlights turned off each morning.

“It looks amazing,” Bonnie breathed as he pulled in front of the twin red garage doors. “And it’s all yours!”

“Yeah, that part’s still sinking in.” Holt owed the miracle of business ownership to his generous new employers at K&G Security. Without the salary they were paying him, there was no way he could’ve afforded to take out a mortgage on a place like this. The next part was up to him. He needed to generate enough income now to make the place profitable.

“Did you return the call of that car lot owner who reached out to you?” Bonnie undid her seatbelt and picked up one of the boxes stacked on the seat cushion beside her. Both of them contained office supplies.

He pushed open his door and hopped to the ground. “I did.” The result of the phone call felt like yet another miracle.

“Well, what did he want?” she demanded eagerly as she shimmied his way on the seat, holding the box high enough to clear the steering wheel.

“He’s looking for a shop that’s willing to prioritize his orders since he plans to bring in steady business.” Holt assisted her to the pavement and maneuvered his way around the box in her arms to give her a tender kiss on the lips. “Thanks for being here for me, babe.”

Since she had to work today, she’d gotten up extra early to help him deliver his first load. She was one of those rare individuals who was as beautiful on the inside as the outside.

“I wouldn’t have missed this for anything,” she assured, kissing him back with her eyes. “This is an awfully big day for you, Mr. Business Owner.”

“No kidding.” It was hard dragging his gaze away from her white knit shirt, red slacks, and blue denim vest. Her wedge heel sandals were almost as tall as the ones his sister wore. “That used car lot owner is pushing to bring his first two cars over today.”

She looked surprised. “Guess he wasn’t kidding about all that business he intends to throw your way. I’d have never guessed a used car lot owner would need so much detail work done.”

“Me, either.” Holt shrugged. “But he claims the upgrades really increase his profits. Says he’s looking for custom paint jobs, trim packages, lift kits, sound systems, and spoilers. The whole works.” The kind of stuff that was right down Holt’s alley. He couldn’t wait to get started.

Bonnie tossed back her dark braids, facing the wind so that it blew her bangs out of her eyes as they moved toward the building. “The more business he brings you, the less you have to drum up on your own.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Holt unlocked the front door of the shop and held it open for her.

She moved past him to set her box on the counter where his cash register was sitting. “Want me to get these supplies put away?”

“If you don’t mind.” She was more organized than he was, so she’d do a better job of it than him. “Don’t forget to keep an eye on the time, though. I’ll stop and drive you to work whenever you need to boogie out of here.”

She fiddled with her cell phone for a few seconds. “I’ll set a timer to give us a fifteen-minute warning.”

“Good idea.” It would take under five minutes to get there. Underwood Realty was only a few streets over.

He opened the door that connected his shop to the auto bays and mashed the button against the wall to open the nearest garage door. Striding outside, he unlocked the rental trailer, rolled up the door, and started hauling equipment inside.

Since the guy who’d sold him the shop had specialized in auto repairs, he’d been willing to let go of some of his equipment real cheap. As a result, Holt now owned a commercial air compressor, diagnostic equipment, and a heavy-grade steam cleaner that would make running boards look as good as new.

He whistled as he continued unloading the trailer and getting moved in.

The rev of a car engine made him glance up in surprise, since he wasn’t expecting any visitors. It was the used car lot owner he’d told Bonnie about. Jett Briggs nosed in behind the rental trailer.

He was lounged behind the wheel of a classic Corvette with the windows rolled down — a 1967 model, no less, with a raised hood and epic quad taillights. The only downside was its peeling orange-red paint. A vinyl wrap, from the looks of it, one that had been put on poorly. There were bubbles on the flairs over the wheels that resembled an outbreak of the chickenpox.

Holt strode outside, wondering if he was looking at the first car he’d be working on in his new shop. “Hey, Jett!” He thrust a hand through the car window.

Jett clasped it and gave it a hearty shake. “I see you’re finally moving in.” He was a blonde Ken doll of a guy in a pink pastel shirt tucked into beige slacks. The short sleeves of his dress shirt showcased body builder arms.

Holt didn’t normally pay attention to stuff like that, but it was hard to miss the fact that Jett Briggs looked like he spent more time at the gym than he did selling cars. Then again, if the guy was mainly dealing in classic cars like the eye popping one he was driving today, he probably didn’t need to sell too many of them to stay in business.

“Yep, I’m moving in.” He glanced at his watch. “Unloading tools and gear as fast as I can.” The place had been turned over to him in move-in condition, clean and operational. Pretty much all he’d had to do was call to get the utilities put in his name and have a locksmith rekey the locks. “I’ll be open for business in less than two hours.”

“Good, ‘cause I’d like to check this one in for a paint job.” Jett reached outside the car to flick a finger over a cluster of air bubbles beneath the vinyl wrap on the driver’s door. “This vinyl is complete garbage.”

“Whoever put it on either didn’t know what they were doing, or they were in a hurry.” Holt shook his head. He’d installed a dozen or more of them himself, and they looked sharp when they were put on correctly.

“Well, I’d like some real paint on this baby.” Jett patted a tanned hand lovingly on the door. “Dark red without the bubbles. I’m gonna need to take a look at your paint samples first.”

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