Page 6 of Until Nalia
Getting Dozer out, I walk to the front door and let him in before me, then head down the hall to the office, where I can hear voices. As I step through the door, I find Benett at the desk with a cup of coffee in one hand, a donut in the other. Hector sitting on the bench seat we pulled from an old pickup and put in the office for seating with a cup of coffee. Benett and I were friends in high school, but we lost contact when he went off to college, and I joined the military. After doing six years of service and specializing in mechanics, where I met Hector, I came home and opened my shop. A year later, Hector retired from the military and came to work with me. About four years ago, I ran into Benett and found out that he was working at a shop downtown, custom wrapping cars with a buddy of his. I mentioned I had my own business, and not liking where they were or the cut they were getting from the custom work they were doing, they both came to work for me.
“Morning.” I jerk up my chin as Dozer waddles over to greet the two of them.
“Yo,” Benett mumbles over a bite of donut. “Lucy made donuts.” Lucy is his sister who owns a treat truck slash bookstore that drives around Nashville and sets up at events. I don’t know where she came up with the idea, but she has done well for herself the last couple of years.
“Nice.” I walk to the desk and set down my coffee then pick up one of the cinnamon sugar donuts out of the open plastic container.
“Some chick called about ten minutes ago,” Hector says and continues. “She asked if she could drop by and have us look at her car. Said Bax told her to call.”
“Did she leave a number?” Normally we don’t take drop ins, we have too many customers waiting for us to do that, but Bax Mayson saved my ass and I owe him a favor for recommending the contractor I used to remodel my house after my first contractor flaked and I was left with the interior of my house in shambles.
“Yeah, it’s on the notepad.” He motions to the desk, and I rip it off the pad. Shoving the doughnut in my mouth, I chew as I pull out my cell and dial the number Hector wrote down, then put my cell to my ear.
“Hello?” A woman with a soft voice answers.
“Hey, this is Logan from Rafe Motors; you called this morning.” I wait for a response, and when one doesn’t come, my brows drag together. “Hello.”
“Sorry.” She clears her throat. “Umm, yes I called, my Bronco is making a noise and my brother told me to call Lo at this number. He thinks it might be the fan belt.”
“That’s me, Logan. I’m at the shop now if you can swing by.”
“Like, come over there?”
“I don’t think there is another way for me to look at your car without you coming over here.” I laugh.
“Of course, that makes sense,” she mumbles. “Could I come by in like fifteen minutes?”
“That works, just ask for me when you get here.”
“Okay.” She hangs up, and I click off the call and shove my cell back into my pocket.
“She coming by?” Benett asks.
“I think so.” I pick up my coffee and take a drink then grab another donut. “You need to tell Lucy I’m going to start charging her for my gym fee.”
“You don’t go to the gym.”
“I’m going to have to start if she keeps sending shit here every other day.”
“She’s paying us back for hooking up her van.” He grabs another donut and stands. “I’m going to get to work. Hanson won’t be in for a while; he was here late last night.”
“Sure.” I take a seat in the chair he vacated while he leaves the office. “You good?” I turn to Hector when he stands.
“Fantastic.”
“You sure?” I ask, knowing he’s lying.
About a year ago his wife and him divorced and his two girls that are around the same age as Billie are in the middle of it thanks to their mom who shares everything with them.
“Taking it one day at a time.”
“I’m here, you know that.”
“Yeah, man.” He pats my arm. “I’m gonna get to work.”
“Sure.” I watch him leave the office, then turn to the computer on the desk, wiggling the mouse, bringing the screen to life. I need to get some stuff ordered this morning so that it will be here by the end of the week. As I’m pressing the button to purchase the order, Hector shouts my name, so I push back from the desk and grab my coffee. When I step into the garage, a Tiffany Blue Ford Bronco that is at least twenty years old is parked just outside the open bay doors. The woman who caught my attention last week at Coop’s school is standing at the hood with her arms wrapped around her waist as Hector talks to her. She’s gorgeous, long dark hair that is a mass of wild curls, soft, feminine features, full lips, and a petite frame covered in a pair of tight jeans and a tank top that accentuates her curves.
When she hears my boots on the concrete, she turns her head my way, and her startling blue-green eyes meet mine seeming to flare ever so slightly. It’s an interesting reaction. The same one she had the last time I saw her. I don’t know her, and I have never seen her before, but it makes me think she knows me.
