Page 110 of Stuck with my Mechanic Daddies

I just needed to figure out what my next move would be.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Owen

Page Turners looked unlocked.

I wasn’t surprised. With everything going on, I was sure Aurora was running herself into the ground.

The fight with Hank Lawsonhadto be the reason I hadn't seen much of her. None of us had.

So, I stopped by The Brewed Bean on my way over and grabbed her a coffee.

When I pushed open the front door of the bookstore, the little bell above it chimed softly. The place was empty, dark except for a lamp glowing at the front counter and a single overhead light coming from the back of the store.

I knew where to find her.

“Aurora?” I called, making my way toward the storeroom.

No answer.

I stepped over a pile of books she’d left scattered near the register and kept going, the scent of old paper and ink growing stronger.

Then I heard it. A muffled grunt, followed by the scrape of something heavy shifting against the floor.

I picked up my pace.

When I reached the storeroom doorway, I stopped short.

Aurora was kneeling on the floor, hair spilling over her shoulder, her sleeves pushed up as she braced herself against a massive metal safe built into the wall.

A heavy-looking cabinet had been dragged aside, revealing a loose wooden panel behind it. Papers and books were strewn across the floor around her, like she’d torn through the room in a hurry.

I frowned. “Are you planning to rob your own bookstore?”

She startled, her head whipping toward me.

I held up the coffee in my hand. “Brought you something. Figured you could use the caffeine before your big heist.”

Aurora let out a breath, shaking her head. “Jesus, Owen. You scared the shit out of me.”

I walked in, setting the cup on a nearby table. “That makes two of us. What the hell is this?”

She exhaled, wiping a smudge of dust from her cheek as she sat back on her heels.

“A safe. I found it behind this panel.” She gestured toward the exposed wall, the heavy iron door of the safe looking as solid as the day it was installed. “It’s what the key unlocks. Although the lock isn’t budging.”

I crouched beside her, running a hand over the metal. It was old, probably hadn't been opened in a while. The hinges were thick with rust, the keyhole nearly swallowed by years of dust and grime.

“Let me try.”

Aurora handed me the key, and I slid it into the lock. It fit perfectly, but when I turned it, nothing happened.

I tightened my grip, twisting harder.

The lock barely budged.

“Damn thing’s seized up,” I muttered.

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