Page 82 of Call it Reckless

“Oh, yes. She does.”

I picked up my plate and carried it to the kitchen, which was nearly twice the size of Bristol’s. Her family really knew how to design houses when they were building them.

After the table was cleared, Marta, Chase’s housekeeper, shooed us out of the way. Bristol led the way, and in minutes, she, Iain, and Lex had climbed over a wooden fence and were walking toward a wired enclosure with a three-sided shelter. Three goats stood watching, their bleats growing more frequent when they realized they were about to get some extra attention.

Chase and I watched for a few minutes, chuckling as Iain and Lexi shrieked each time one of the goats licked them.

“Iain loves it here. Looks like Lexi will, too,” Chase said, finally breaking the silence.

“Yep.” I leaned my arms on the wood rail. “Say what you want, Chase. But you better smile while you’re doing so because I guarantee your little sister is over there watching and thinking about how to turn you into goat feed if we don’t get along.”

Chase threw his head back and roared. “Ah. You really do know her well already.”

“I’m learning, but I don’t think she’s the kind of person you ever know everything about upfront. But I find that exciting. We’ll learn our way together.”

“And what if you learn something about her you don’t like? Something long after you both fall for each other, and if you don’t think she’s falling for you, you don’t know her very well after all. She doesn’t let many people get very close to her, so for her to include you like this, it’s very telling.”

I digested what he said. It was a good question. “I think that’s true for any relationship. It’s always a risk. But I can tell you she’s the first one since my wife that I’ve felt like taking that chance on. That tells me something. And I know I’d be a fool not to try.”

I watched as a goat chased Lexi as if it were a puppy. Her laughter warmed me more than the sun on my back. This was good for her. Not just the farm but having a fun and loving family.

“Bristol has always been a little fighter.” Chase plucked a tall piece of grass and fiddled with it. ‘She was born screaming,’ Dad used to say. And for whatever reason, she and Dad had this special bond, even before Bristol was old enough to learn anything about cars. Maybe it was because ourmother,” he practically spat the last word, “was too busy always dolling herself up for some competition. Honestly, I think Bristol gets her competitiveness as much from our mom as our dad. But either way, she never seemed to have much use for Bristol, who never wanted to wear the fancy dresses and shiny shoes our mother wanted to dress her in. I think because Cam never minded, even liked it, Mom always thought Bristol would follow naturally. When she didn’t, Mom didn’t pay much attention to her.

“After Mom left, Bristol started wearing all those stupid, frilly dresses. I think she hoped it would bring Mom back. When it didn’t, she went in as far an opposite direction as she could to be different from our mother. When Dad moved us here, she resented our mom even more. Hell, for a time, she resented everyone. I think that’s partly why, consciously or subconsciously, she became interested in cars—to keep Dad’s attention.”

“And now he’s gone, as are her grandparents,” I added quietly.

“I think it’s why she feels she has to be so goddamned independent.” He arched an eyebrow. “I hope you understand I’m not trying to be an asshole. You won’t find anyone better or more loyal than my sister. I think you’re good for her. But don’t be surprised if she pushes sometimes. Just don’t give up on her when she does.” He threw the grass, and we watched it nosedive to the ground.

Somehow, it almost felt symbolic of what could happen if Bristol and I weren’t careful. If we got too stuck in our own heads about our pasts.

“I won’t,” I promised as Bristol headed back toward us with both kids skipping beside her. She was laughing at something Iain said, but even from the several yards that still separated us, I could see the concern on her face.

“Everything good?” she asked as soon as she reached us, glancing between her brother and me.

“It’s all good,” I answered. Because I would make sure it was. I would not let her down.

CHAPTERTWENTY-SEVEN

Bristol

Irubbed my temples and checked my phone to make sure the clock on the wall hadn’t stopped working. We’d been open for a month, and all had gone well—until today.

So far, the day had been nothing but one frustration after another. When I arrived at the garage this morning, I discovered that one of the lifts wasn’t working. After a quick inspection, I found a puddle of hydraulic oil, then spent half an hour on the phone with the installer who said he could work me in next week for a repair. We were already booked solid for the next two weeks, and for a piece of new equipment, that wasn’t acceptable. I questioned whether they could work us in earlier, especially given that the lift was new and under warranty.

His tone became indignant. “Calm down, lil’ lady. Your boss will understand how these things work.” Fifteen minutes later, I was pretty sure he understood that not only wasIthe boss and knew very well how things worked, but I was pretty sure my chosen words convinced him I was also not always a “lady.” He had someone here shortly after lunch.

On top of that, one of my mechanics was a no-show. When I called him, he informed me he was moving to Arizona and wouldn’t be back. Not even a two-week notice.

Max, my youngest mechanic, was finishing a tire rotation on Mrs. Willoughby’s car while I took another thorough look at the engine of the Chevy that was in bay two. It belonged to Mrs. Mary Smith, a woman as sweet as they come. She had an ability to remember everyone’s birthday or anniversary—family, neighbors, church members…anyone she knew—and never missed bringing them a card. And despite living on a limited income, she made cookies for newcomers, homemade soup for the sick, and casseroles when a family member died. She could rattle off a home remedy for just about anything, and you could count on her to always have a tissue or butterscotch candy in her purse because “you never knew when someone needed one.” She was like having an extra grandmother, and ironically, she’d been one of my grandmother’s best friends.

However, I don’t think she’d bought anything major since the 1980s, including her car. I never trusted that these cars had been kept up, and as old as it was, I wanted to make sure she was safe. But everything looked good under the hood—now.

“Great job, Max. Good catch with that radiator leak.”

He gave me a thumbs-up.

“Bristol?”

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