Page 44 of Mustang Summer

They got Josie’s car parked in the garage and she was busy wiping her feet on the welcome mat while he went in to turn on The Weather Channel.

He was planted on the edge of the couch with his elbows on his knees when she sat beside him.

The radar showed a red swath approaching Moore and in the middle of the red was some pink and even a few dots of white.

Josie whistled.“Damn.Tornado?”

“No.”Brocks words were terse.“Hail.”

“Thank you for getting my car inside.”

“You’re welcome.”

She studied him, a slight tilt to her head.He ran the conversation over in his mind.Had he said something wrong?Not said something?She said thank you and he was programmed to at least say you’re welcome.

She rested her hand on his knee.“Where should we wait out the storm?”

“I’ve got a weather radio downstairs.”He flicked the TV off and stood.“Grab your stuff.”

Chapter8

Josie padded downstairs after Brock.The bottom level of the split ranch was cooler, but cozier.Wall-to-wall carpet squished between her toes.His parents had sprung for the good stuff.

Brock flipped on a light in the main area and she stopped short to look around in awe.A sensory mecca was the only way she could describe it.

The plush carpet she’d already been introduced to, but the walls were painted the most pleasing shade of taupe.A free-standing hammock sat at one end of the room and candles were scattered along the ledge of the wainscoting.

“Whoa.”She spun a small circle.

It was like a DIY spa.The smell was even relaxing.She picked up the nearest candle.Vanilla lavender.She checked the label: soy wax.Weren’t those supposed to be less toxic?Her gaze lifted to land on speakers.There were four—one mounted in each corner.

Brock had gone into an adjacent room, and she stepped to the doorway.He rummaged through a shelf in the corner, then withdrew a radio.The makeshift storage room looked like it could’ve once been a bedroom.Boxes with the names of car places and car parts on them were stacked along the walls.The closet door was open, the space was filled with various pairs of overalls.

All of it was tidy.If she were to shout a make and model of air filter, Brock could probably point to exactly where it was stored and how many he had.Hell, his overalls were probably categorized by task, like snow removal, mechanic work, and whatever else a farmer would use coveralls for.

Boots lined the floor under the hangers.Snow boots.Ski boots.She peeked in farther and saw cross-country ski equipment and snowshoes.

The Walkers had this awesome acreage and were still able to do all the snow sports that she either couldn’t afford or didn’t have time for.

A twinge of jealously flared, but she couldn’t hold it against Brock.He worked hard for everything and everyone around him.

Most girls would’ve been offended that he’d inspected the car for damage immediately after doing it on the hood, but not her.He’d said he was restoring it for someone and in the little time she’d known him, she’d seen how much his work meant to him.So the fact that he’d lost his common sense to take her on it in the first place was incredibly flattering.

A vibrating sound jerked her out of her musings.

Brock glanced at her backpack where her phone was going off before he went back to fiddling with the weather radio.

She went back into the relaxation room and dug out her phone.

Her heart sank.It was her father.

“Hey, Bill.”She’d called him that for so long, it didn’t faze him anymore.

“Where the hell are you?”

“I didn’t have any weekend plans so I came down to see Jesse.”Not exactly a lie—she’d probably visit him before she left.

Bill’s long-suffering sigh clenched her gut.“I know you and your brother are close, but you can’t waste all your time and money on the boy.He dug his own grave.”

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