Page 30 of PenPal Hero

“Sure. I’ll get my sample book.” Since Jett was ready to rock and roll on his first detail job, Holt jogged over to his workbench against the far wall. He opened and shut drawers until he found what he was looking for. Snatching up the paint sample book, he jogged back out to Jett’s car. “Here.” He handed it through the window.

Jett immediately started riffling through the pages.

Good gravy! Holt wasn’t expecting him to pick out the exact shade on the spot. “You’re more than welcome to take the book with you?—”

“This one.” Jett stabbed a finger at one of the samples. “It’s called, er…” Frowning, he leaned closer to read the name of it.

“Black cherry,” Holt supplied, wondering if the guy was near sighted. He was squinting like he needed glasses.

“If you say so.” Grinning, Jett handed the paint sample book back. “Work me up an estimate, and I’ll have a couple of my guys drop off the car after you order the supplies.”

“Already have that color of paint in stock.” It was a popular shade of dark metallic red. Holt scanned Jett’s features to gauge his reaction to the estimate he quoted him. “My terms are fifty percent up front. Balance is due at the end, after you’re happy with the job.”

Jett nodded in satisfaction. “Those are terms I can live with. What kinds of payment do you accept?”

“Cash, check, or charge,” Holt drawled. He was sort of kidding about the cash. Nobody paid in cash these days.

“Cash it is.” Jett gestured vaguely. “Or a direct transfer from my account to yours, assuming you bank in town?”

“I do.” Holt liked the thought of not having to wait for a check to clear. “I can get you set up for electronic payments in two snaps.”

“Perfect.” Jett waved two fingers at him. “I’ll be back after breakfast.” He revved his motor a few times and zoomed out of the narrow front parking lot, skidding a little in a patch of gravel by the curb. A tiny pebble zinged through the air and bounced off the chrome grate above the bumper on Holt’s truck.

Though no harm was done, he made a mental note to sweep up the gravel and toss it in the dumpster behind the building. He didn’t need any hot rods kicking up rocks and putting dings in the paint jobs and windshields of his customers.

He did a victory jig on his way back inside the shop.

Bonnie glanced up from the cash register booth. “Good news?”

“Just landed my first paint job.” He danced behind the counter and reached for her hand to twirl her closer. “We can celebrate over dinner tonight, if you’re available.”

“Hmm. I’ll have to check my calendar.” She pretended to think about it.

“Everybody gets hungry,” he coaxed.

“True.” She gave in, chuckling. “It’s a date!”

Man, but he adored her! She was fun and upbeat, the polar opposite of his last girlfriend. When he and his mother had made the move up from Dallas a couple of years ago, his ex had dumped him faster than a hot potato, claiming that most long-distance relationships didn’t work. Sadly, she hadn’t even been willing to give it a try.

Bonnie, on the other hand, was embracing life with arms wide open — grappling with the missing pieces of her memories, studying for her real estate broker’s license, and navigating the perils of living on her own for the first time, all while embarking on a new relationship with him.

She was amazing. Though he hadn’t told her yet, he was falling in love with her.

Hard.

Fast.

Completely.

He felt powerless to stop it, not that he wanted to.

Jett Briggs flooded Winchester Auto Detailing with so much work over the next several days that Holt could barely squeeze in any other customers. It was a nice problem to have. He just hadn’t expected to be booked up so soon.

It was only a week after opening day, and he was already kicking around the idea of hiring part-time help. However, he wasn’t sure when he was going to find the time to post a job opening, much less hold the interviews. Because of how busy he was, his encrypted daily report to K&G Security got pushed later and later.

It was how he ended each day of work — sharing the details of everything he’d observed first-hand in the local auto business. Today’s report didn’t happen until an hour past closing time. He locked the front door and flipped the sign in the window to CLOSED. Only then was he able to relax in his apartment at the back of the shop.

After much debate, he’d moved out of the guest quarters at his sister’s place and carried his sparse personal belongings to the shop. It would take a while to get the place furnished the way he wanted, but it was his. All his. There was a special kind of beauty in that.

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