Page 10 of Penalty Box
Mason stopped a few feet from his car, and turned to face me. His face immediately broke into a wide smile. Half-surprised, but mostly happy to see me.
I wasn't about to dwell on that little detail.
“If you insist on calling me Rookie, I’m going to keep going with Zamboni girl,” he said once I’d reached him. “Seeing as you’ve refused to give me a real name to work with.”
I ignored his not-so-subtle play, and held out the bag. “For the Ford.”
He stared at it, then at me, like I’d just offered him a pile of un-laundered cash. “What?”
“Don’t be weird,” I said, shaking the bag. He took it, and peeked inside. “It’s a starter solenoid. You mentioned something about not being able to get it started, and this is the most common fix for a truck like yours. Give it a try.”
“Wow, this is… I can’t believe you did this.”
“It’s no big deal.” I shrugged, breathing deep and slow to get my heart to slow down to normal rhythm. “I was picking through my stuff at home, looking for a filter for one of the plows when this jumped out at me.”
I didn’t have stuff at home. I’d deliberately gone to a store and paid for the thing. But he didn’t have to know that.
“You did this for me?” He held the solenoid to his chest like a precious treasure.
“Don’t flatter yourself.” But I couldn’t look at him, and shifted my weight from one foot to the other.Why did this guy make me feel so damnnervous?
“No, seriously,” he said with the lightest touch to my arm so I’d look at him. “Not only did you remember what I said, but you tracked me down to give me the part.”
“So? It’s no big deal, like I said.”
Mason chuckled. “This is either a very specific kink or you secretly like me.”
“Or,” I said, stepping back with a smirk, “I just like old trucks.”
He looked at the bag again like it was a love letter. “This means I might actually get her running. Swap out this old lemon for something reliable."
“Don’t get your hopes up,” I scoffed. “You’ll have to install it without breaking anything.”
“I’ll be gentle. I promise.”
The low rasp of his voice made something flutter under my ribs. Dammit. I should’ve walked away. Should’ve turned and left him in the lot with nothing but that damn half-smile.
I didn’t.
On the ice, that’s how careers die.
My dad’s voice raked through all the warm and fuzzy I was feeling, like nails on a chalkboard. There was no escaping it. I’d watched Mason’s trajectory in his first season. He was set to be an even bigger star than Grayson if he played his cards right.
“You look like someone who gets a lot done,” he said. “Do you ever take breaks?”
“You look like someone whose car won’t start unless a woman fixes it for you.”
He laughed, bright and melodic. “That’s fair.”
Was it fair that the sound of his laugh made me want to invite him somewhere warm and private?
I glanced toward the rink doors. I was still in the safe zone. “I have to go.”
“Again?” His reaction was too quick for him to also hide his disappointment.
“Yeah, that’s kind of how it goes,” I laughed. “I show up for my shift and when it ends, I go home.”
He didn’t move. “Seriously. Thank you.”
