Page 23 of Crashed
She shut those thoughts down quickly. That wasn’t the issue here.
If he reneged, would he go ahead and put the garage up for sale right away?
When she walked into the workshop, Piper was in her office and Rusty, already in coveralls, had her head under the hood of Mr. Cannon’s 1968 Dodge Charger.
She looked up, and a grin spread across her face. “Look what the cat dragged in.”
“I know.” Alex held up her hands. “I slept in.”
“Yeah?” Concern creased her friend’s brow. “Trouble sleeping?”
“Something like that.”
Rusty put down her socket wrench and straightened, rubbing the grease from her hands on the ass of her coveralls. “The dream?”
Alex shrugged, not wanting to get into it, not wanting to worry her friends, and definitely not wanting to dwell on the reason she thought she’d started having them again.
Rusty walked over and gave her a quick hug. “You think this is about your date the other night? You like this guy?”
The woman was too damn perceptive for her own good. She’d always been able to read her like a book. “Nah, it’s nothing serious. You know me.”
Rusty stared at her for several seconds, her intense gaze so much like her brother’s in that moment it made her squirm. “Okay. If you say so. But you know I’m here if you need to vent, right?”
“Just try to stop me.”
Rusty’s stunning grin returned, then her eyes lifted to something over Alex’s shoulder. They widened. “Holy shit.”
“What?” Alex spun around in time to see a 1970 Dodge Super Bee 426 Hemi Flashback pull up in front of their garage.
Purple.
Her knees actually went weak. This was the car. The car of her dreams. Instead of actors or singers on her walls when she’d been growing up, she’d had a poster of this car—well, not on her walls, because she wasn’t allowed, but the picture had gone to every one of her foster homes with her.
Super Bees were only in production for four years, so there weren’t that many on the road. She’d never thought she’d get to see one up close. Whoever owned it had to have some serious cake.
The door opened and Jarrod Prescott stepped out, all flashy suit and smooth good looks. His gaze landed on her, and his lips quirked up at the side, followed by a knowing wink. She slammed her unhinged jaw shut.
“You know that guy? Sheee-it. Is that the guy you’re messing with?” Rusty hissed in her ear.
“Um…”
“Hot…the guy’s not bad, either.” She snorted. “No wonder you’re going out with him—he drives your freakin’ dream car.”
Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.
“Just, ah…give me a minute.” She speed walked over to Jarrod before Rusty had a chance to interrogate him. But Rusty had already peeled off, heading to the office to get
Piper. Dammit.
Jarrod slid his hands in his pockets and smiled down at her. “Alex.”
“Yeah, hey. Look, I ah…I need your help. You’re gonna think this is nuts, but I’m going to need you to pretend we’re going out.”
His brow scrunched. “Pardon?”
“I know this seems weird, and I know I’m asking a lot.
But Deacon’s sisters are my best friends, and they don’t know me and him are…that we’re seeing each other. But they know I’m seeing someone. Rusty got the wrong idea when you pulled in, so if you could just help me out, I’ll owe you,” she blurted in one breath.
