Page 13 of Caught in the Axe
We left the building just as the last few rays of sunlight disappeared behind the mountains. I couldn’t help but scan the horizon, in awe of the beauty surrounding us, as I headed toward my car.
Halfway there, I realized Owen was no longer beside me. I spun, finding him staring, slack-jawed, at my minivan.
I smiled and threw one arm out, gesturing to it like I was a game show hostess and the van was a coveted prize. “This baby is a 2002 Chrysler Town & Country. Don’t be intimidated by her grandeur. Priscilla’s just a car.”
Owen blinked, pressing his lips together in a straight line.
I fought back a laugh at the skepticism written all over his face. I loved my girl. When I found myself back in Maine last year, I needed wheels, and Todd, the owner of the used car dealership in Heartsborough, was a friend of my great-uncle Louis. There weren’t a ton of options in my price range, but even if there had been, I would have chosen Priscilla.
She was equipped with all-wheel drive, which was necessary up here, and she was roomy. This was the kind of car I’d wished my mom had driven when I was a kid. The kind of vehicle the normal kids had, with captain’s chairs andlittle baskets of snacks and coloring books for long rides to visit relatives for the holidays.
So what if I didn’t have or evenwantkids? The price had been right, and Priscilla and I had understood each other from day one.
And we’d been blissfully happy together ever since.
“She’s got new brakes and working heat,” I chided. “Get in!”
With a huff, he shuffled toward the passenger door. “What is a single twenty-eight-year-old woman doing driving a minivan?”
“First of all, this beast gets decent gas mileage. Probably a whole lot better than your luxury SUV. Second, she’s got tons of space. I’ve got stow-and-go seats and everything. You don’t even know what you’re missing.” I patted her steering wheel and gave Owen a wink. “Priscilla here is a van-imal.”
The man just stared at me like he worried he might have to have me committed.
“Van-imal,” I repeated. “Get it?”
He bit his lip and smiled, and my stomach dipped. Damn. I hated how sexy such a subtle movement was. The last thing I needed was to be attracted to my new boss, who also happened to be my ex’s older brother. But we were truly past that and now veering into hopeless tween crush territory. If I wasn’t careful, I’d dig a Lisa Frank notebook out of my mom’s basement when I got home and start doodling his name surrounded in hearts.
“Are you doing home improvement projects?” he asked, peering over his shoulder. “What do you need to transport?”
Shaking my head, I pulled out of the parking lot. “You have so much to learn about Lovewell. Buckle up. You cantalk accounting to me while I drive. If we’re gonna be working together, you’ve got to communicate, big guy.”
He slid a hand between the passenger seat and the door, then turned to me, wearing a confused frown.
It took me a moment to understand what the look was for. “Ah. It doesn’t have fancy controls,” I explained. “Just the bar under the seat.”
He leaned forward and grabbed the bar between his feet, and suddenly, his seat slammed all the way back.
I couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped me. He was so uncomfortable. I bet Mister Thousand-Dollar Shoes had never even come near a minivan.
With a grunt, he adjusted the seat so he had ample leg room but wasn’t all the way in the second row and buckled his seat belt.
“Where were we in our discussion about the records?” I asked as I took a turn. “Sorry I couldn’t stay any longer. I promised Vic I’d help with deliveries tonight.”
He raised one eyebrow, his full lips pressed in a tight line. “You’re not running drugs, are you?”
I tilted my head and stuck my tongue out at him. “If I was a drug dealer, I’d probably have a much nicer car.” I was not sassy by nature. It went against every polite, pleasing instinct I had. But Owen’s stoic demeanor made me want to roll my eyes and make snarky comments just to get a rise out of him.
He crossed his arms and looked out the windshield. “Fair point.”
I squeezed the steering wheel and sat up a little straighter. “So about those records.”
By the time we reached our destination, we haddiscussed GAAP, records retention, and the best way to itemize receipts. Despite the professional, big-city rich guy persona, Owen was a pure math nerd, and I was enjoying myself.
I didn’t have anyone in my life to talk about this stuff with. No one who had professional experience to share. Outside of school, I’d been alone, doing my thing and learning as much as I could. Now, though, I had access to a man with decades of experience. Not only that, but a person who could appreciate my hilarious war stories.
“Where are we?” he asked as I parked along the street in front of an old Victorian in town. It had probably been exquisite in its heyday, but these days, the paint was peeling and a couple of the third-floor windows were boarded up.
An old-fashioned cinder block garage sat at the end of the long driveway. Inside the crumbling stone structure were rows of commercial refrigerators.
