Page 8 of Mustang Summer

They would put that puppy in the parade next year and his cousins would have Brock drive so they could ride horses around it and toss candy.Brock preferred the arrangement.No one expected him to smile and wave.

A word in the forum stopped him cold until he noticed everyone standing for the flag passing by.He rose and put his hand over his heart until the flag passed, then settled back and searched the online conversation.

Brock couldn’t believe it.A collectible Mustang was for sale—for a reasonable price even.He read further.The owner was very picky about who could buy it.He tapped on the link.

Detroit Lakes.That wasn’t so far away.If he left in the morning, he’d be back by dinner.He’d bring the trailer, just in case.

He went back to the forum as the Moore high school’s marching band passed.

Elle laughed and clapped her hands in delight as candy scattered at her feet.

Brock glanced up.Cash and Dillon were passing.So, Elle’s man had gotten rooked into riding.Travis must not have made it in time.

Dillon smiled and tipped his ball cap to Elle.His mouth quirked when he saw the phone in Brock’s hand.Dillon pelted him with a few suckers.

Brock snatched them out of the air and went to back to the forum.

“Good catch.”Elle wore a huge grin.

At least someone was having fun.

Brock’s heart sank down to his worn Ropers.The owner of the ’68 Shelby GT500 wanted a worthy buyer, someone who could express what the car meant to him.

Brock was screwed.

He swore and flipped his hat off to swipe at his knee.

“Are you okay?”Elle watched him as if clowns on bicycles weren’t rolling past her.

That’s what he liked about her.Perhaps it was her mental health background, but when she spoke, he knew who she was talking to.She made eye contact and her words were direct.No subtle sarcasm, no hidden meaning, and she kept her attention on who she was conversing with.

“Fine.”Just found a car he and his dad had always wanted to go fix up.There wasn’t much he bonded with his dad over, but put an engine between them and they could finally speak to each other.

Other than Dad pointing out how hard he was as a child, they had nothing in common.

He scanned the forum and clicked back to the car’s ad.He’d have to try.

Chapter3

Josie strolled to her dad’s garage and sucked in a deep breath.A block away and she could feel the testosterone cloud surrounding her.

The garage played neighbor to a house, but the house was deceptive.Each room could be turned into a detailing studio for the pieces that ran through her dad’s control.

Pieces.She rolled her eyes to the clear, blue sky.

Pieces of hot cars meant her dad didn’t run a chop shop—in his eyes only.Not if the car was chopped before it got to him.He just “helped a guy out” if they wanted their “new” car repainted…one piece at a time.The law may have a different interpretation.

She entered the garage where the official works that he refurbished to sell for big money were restored.

“Where’ve you been?”

She glared at the tall man swaggering toward her, wiping his hands off on a rag.Gage knew how good-looking he was and he wielded it like a weapon.

His mouth turned down and he took in her hair.“Why’d you cut your hair?”

Cuz you liked it long.“It’s summer.It’s hot.”

“Well, grow it back out.”

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