Page 11 of Stuck with my Mechanic Daddies

He gave me a measured look. “Long enough to fix this, though?”

I rubbed my temple. I didn’t know. I shouldn’t have had to.

But what choice did I have? Let the debts follow me back to the city? Watch this place crumble because my uncle hadn't been responsible enough?

Frustration coiled tight in my chest. I didn’t like feeling trapped.

I pushed to my feet. “Send me whatever paperwork I need to look over.”

Calloway nodded. “Of course.”

I didn’t say goodbye, just turned and strode out of the office, my boots clicking sharply against the hardwood. The moment I stepped outside, the cool air hit me, but it didn’t clear my head the way I needed it to.

I dug my keys out of my bag before remembering… Right.No car.

Because, of course, I was stranded.

A gust of wind whipped through the street, sending a shiver down my spine. I tightened my coat around me, my fingers stiff from the cold and frustration. The thought of walking all the way back to the bookstore in these boots made my patience wear even thinner.

I barely had time to process my next move when a deep voice cut through the quiet.

“Need a ride?”

I turned toward the sound, already knowing who it was.

Ethan Grady leaned against his truck, arms crossed, expression unreadable. He looked like he’d been there for a while, watching.

Of course.

Because why wouldn’t my day get more complicated?

I exhaled sharply. “Have you been sent to babysit me or something?”

Ethan’s mouth twitched, something between amusement and irritation.

“No one sent me. I was at the hardware store.” He nodded toward the shop across the street, then arched a brow. “But if you’d rather walk back in those shoes, be my guest.”

I glanced down at my heeled boots. They were not made for Medford’s uneven sidewalks, let alone the walk back to Page Turners.

My pride told me to refuse, but my feet begged me to be practical.

With a resigned sigh, I strode toward the truck. “Thanks.”

He opened the passenger door, and I climbed in, the truck warmer than I expected.

Ethan slid into the driver’s seat, turning the key. The old engine rumbled to life, filling the cab with the scent of leather, coffee, and something distinctlyhim. Clean, a little rugged, like cedar and motor oil.

We drove in silence for a while, the quiet surprisingly comfortable. Medford passed by in a blur of small-town charm, and for a brief moment, I let myself relax.

Then Ethan glanced over. “You okay?”

I let out a dry laugh. “Not even a little.”

He nodded, as if he’d expected that. “Figured.”

I sighed, leaning my head back against the seat. “I was just at a lawyer’s office learning that my uncle left me a financial disaster. I can’t sell the store yet, I can’t just walk away, and if I don’t figure something out, I might lose my job, too.”

Ethan didn’t speak right away. He just kept driving, hands steady on the wheel.

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