Page 19 of Mechanic Daddy's Girl
And as much as I hate to say it, not with me.
“I thought you said it would take until Monday. Maybe longer.” Callie’s sorrow burrows deep into her words. On the verge of tears but fighting them off as best she can.
I don’t want her to feel this way, but it gives me the feeling that not all hope is lost. She storms toward me, clearing the distance in an instant to look at the box between my legs.
“Guess I was being hopeful.” I’ve never been one to talk much, but until today, it’s been by choice.
This time, I find myself at a loss for them. Struggling through an endless torrent of thoughts to convince her to stay. Wanting to plead my case, like some two-bit lawyer. Offer her a world I can’t afford and a life that’s just out of arm’s reach.
“Well…” Callie’s disappointment fades with that single word, and my heart sinks deeper into my guts. Here it comes, theit’s been fun but it’s time I run. Instead, Callie’s hand raises from her side, meeting mine before interlocking our fingers. She stares into my chest, a smile replacing her frown, as she speaks again. “I can’t say it’s the worst thing that could’ve happened. I’d feel much better running errands in my own car than yours.”
“Wh—” I choke and awkwardly clear my throat before I try again. “What was that?”
Callie chuckles, squatting down to meet me at eye level. Her free hand moves up my arm and over my cheek, nudging my gaze to meet hers.
“I don’t know what you thought would happen, but you’re not getting rid of me that easily.” She presses her lips to mine, and we kiss, soft and gentle. “After all, Daddy needs his little princess.”
Her confession nearly floors me. Makes me want to launch out of this chair and jump for joy. It shouldn’t be this surprising. Things between us have gone perfectly, and that will only continue. But making assumptions is a dangerous gamble. Expecting the worst and receiving the best is better than the other way around.
“You’ve gotta be careful saying that so close to Cinnamon. She’s the jealous type.” Cracking a joke when seconds ago I was on the verge of crumbling seems fitting. Break the tension and lighten the mood because Lord knows the other option involves our naked bodies denting the hood of her Picanto.
“Speaking of which, you’re gonna have to introduce me to her sometime soon. And, you know, give me a tour of your place.”
I wink at her. “Would’ve done that on day one if it wouldn’t make you think I was crazy.”
She strokes my cheek with her thumb. “But being crazy is half the fun.”
“Then we’re going to have a blast. I’m as nuts as they come.” Don’t know where that came from, but maybe I’m just rolling with the punches at this point.
Suddenly, I notice a shift in Callie. As quickly as the elation washed over her face, it fades. Her gaze shifts to the ground, and that precious, warm smile transforms into a nervous pout. She squeezes my hand tight. Too tight for the tenderness this moment calls for. Like it’s a sign that danger’s close, and she needs a big, bad monster’s help.
Don’t worry, baby. You’ve got the biggest, baddest one of all sitting right here.
“What’s wrong?”
“I…” It takes Callie a few attempts to speak. Stuttering the vowel a few times over before she gets it out. “I saw Travis in town.”
“What the fuck?” I roar so loud it echoes through my workshop.
“He put a tracker on my car. Followed me here when I didn’t answer his calls.” Callie’s speaking so fast I can barely make out the words. She relays some more information about their conversation outside the Mexican restaurant. His creepy vibe, her fear of what he might do if he was willing to track her here, and finally, “I’m sorry, Boone. I don’t want to ruin this moment with bullshit, but I don’t know what to do.”
Angry is an understatement. I’m practically vibrating in my chair, with a jaw clenched so tight my teeth are starting to ache.
“You never have to apologize to me, Callie. I’ll take care of this. Of you.” Whatever it takes, I’ll make it happen.
That’s a damn promise.
11
CALLIE
We eat together in Boone’s workshop, but I can see the Travis dilemma weighing on his mind the entire time we’re sitting there. Through the smiles and any attempt at keeping things light, Boone’s face always goes back to stern and contemplative.
After dinner, I perch myself on Boone’s knee, listen to the rhythmic hum of his heart beating, and stare out into the night, somehow hoping the dark will give me an answer. None comes my way. Only a distant bark of someone’s dog in the distance, and Cinnamon responding with one of her own.
But, as if their howls were the solution to this puzzle, Boone chuckles. “I’ve got it.”
“You do?” I snap my head in his direction.
