Page 13 of Stuck with my Mechanic Daddies

“Thanks for the ride,” I said over my shoulder, already heading for the bookstore.

Ethan didn’t stop me. He just waited a beat before saying, “You know where to find me.”

I didn’t look back.

The bookstore was just as I had left it—dusty, dimly lit, and smelling faintly of old paper and something vaguely floral. Probably some ancient potpourri my uncle had never bothered to throw out.

I dropped my bag onto the front counter and took a slow look around. The place could have been charming if it weren’t one gust of wind away from total collapse.

I was trying to figure out where to even start when the bell over the door jingled.

I turned, expecting another nosy local, but the woman who stepped inside wasn’t just any local.

She was formidable. Mid-sixties, pressed slacks and a cardigan buttoned up just so, with the kind of posture that suggested she took absolutely no shit from anyone.

Her sharp blue eyes swept over me like she was assessing every single one of my life choices, and judging all of them.

“Miss Bennett,” she said, her voice crisp. “I thought I might find you here.”

I blinked. “Uh, and you are?”

Her lips pressed together like she was disappointed I didn’t already know. “Beatrice Callahan. I worked for your uncle.”

Right. Calloway had mentioned something about an employee.

“You were his assistant?” I asked.

Her eyes narrowed. “I managed the store.”

Well, okay then.

I gestured vaguely around us. “So you know what kind of mess he left behind.”

Beatrice stiffened. “Your uncle cared deeply about this store.”

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. “That's nice, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s falling apart and drowning in debt.”

She exhaled sharply, her gaze flicking to the bookshelves like she couldn’t believe I’d talk aboutherstore like that.

I leaned against the counter. “Look, Beatrice. I’m just trying to figure out what exactly I’m dealing with here. My uncle never really talked to me, so I don’t know much about him or this place.”

Beatrice’s expression didn’t soften.

I tried again. “Did he ever mention anything about the finances? Maybe why the debts piled up?”

Her jaw tightened. “Your uncle kept certain things private.”

Which was a very polite way of saying,I’m not telling you anything.

I crossed my arms. “Right. And you're not interested in helping me now, either?”

She leveled me with a look. “You’ve made it clear you don’t plan to stay, Miss Bennett. So forgive me if I don’t feel inclined to hand over your uncle’s secrets to someone who sees this place as nothing more than a burden.”

My stomach twisted because she wasn’t wrong. But it still stung.

Beatrice adjusted her cardigan. “I came by to collect a few personal belongings. I won’t trouble you again.”

And just like that, she turned and walked toward the back office, her heels clicking against the wooden floor.

---