Page 19 of Mustang Summer

“He was born without that gene.”Aaron said it sarcastically but Brock stiffened at the reminder that Aaron wasn’t wrong.“If he said you were in his barn, then you were.”

Josie loosened her grip from her bag and rose.Brock didn’t back up and it brought her close to him.He had to look down at least eight inches, even with her in heels.

“I don’t appreciate feeling like I’m being attacked at my brother’s trial.Have a little sympathy.”

Once she made the request, it clicked for Brock, as it often did when he was prodded, or remembered his mom’s advice.Her eyes were filled with worry and not because she was faced with four men who stood a head taller than her.It’d be like if any of his cousins were on trial.

And she was the only one here for Jesse.Brock didn’t like the man, despised what he’d done to their place, and how he added stress and remorse for Gram.But none of it was Josie’s fault.She might’ve been in his stuff, but she’d just said she was more interested in the cars.

“Where’s your family?”he asked.

Her eyes shimmered.“Our mom passed last year and Bill—my dad—couldn’t take off work to come here.”

“What does he do?”The rest of the world faded and it was him and Josie.His cousins didn’t move away, but didn’t break in.

“He’s a mechanic.”

“That’s why you like cars.Did you help him at all?”

She hastily wiped her eyes.“When I was younger.Now he has employees and thinks my place is somewhere else besides under a hood.”

“Why?”

She peered up at him, but didn’t answer.“You really surprise me sometimes.”

“Why?”

A chuckle escaped and he was grateful her tears were gone.“Because you interrogate me about a single subject then throw me for a loop by treating me like a real person.”

“You are.”He sensed he was getting into territory where he’d soon not understand what she was talking about.“I’d quit asking the questions if you answered.Truthfully.”

“And if I said I was lying and I was in your barn, would I end up in Jesse’s place?”

“Would you have destroyed my collection?”

Her mouth dropped open and her brows cinched—clearly horror.“Absolutely not.It’d be like burning history.Okay, say I was admiring your cars.Would you have a problem with that?”

“No.I’d say call first next time.”

“I don’t have your number.”

“Tell me yours and I’ll text you so you have it.”

Everything went quiet around them and she studied him a moment before she rattled it off.

He committed it to memory.Numbers came naturally to him.They weren’t burdened with emotions and subtleties like words.In school, his teachers marveled over how well he handled math but then tanked his reading comprehension tests.All of which he thought were pointless because he understood what he read just fine.

“I was surprised,” she went on, “that you didn’t have more.You had only two in your barn.”

“The rest are in the long garage.”

“Makes sense.”

“That’s where I do the detailing and work that needs a finer touch.”

“How many do you have in there?”

Brock was about to answer, but Cash broke in.“Why are you asking?”

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