Page 3 of It's Going to Be a Chrome Christmas
The radio beeped beside her before she heard Joey’s voice say, “Boss, you have a visitor.”
Grumbling, Trixie rolled herself out from under the GTO. She picked up the radio where she’d left it next to her toolbox and water bottle. “Who is it?”
“Greg Wynn.”
Despite not being happy about the interruption, a smile appeared on her face. She immediately stood. “TellTìoGreg I’ll be right down.”
Greg Wynn had been herabuelo’s best friend. He’d practically raised herpapá, Zyn, who’d grown up alongside Greg’s son, Josh. Trix had never met Josh. He’d been incarcerated before she’d been born and then vanished soon after his release. Towards the end of his life, herpapá’s struggle with lung cancer had prevented him from working in the shop with the cars he loved so much. Herabuelo, Bobby, had owned the shop, but it had been Zyn who’d run the day-to-day operations. When Trix had been old enough, Bobby had taken her under his wing and taught her everything she knew. Unlike her brothers, whose interests lay elsewhere, Trix’s heart and soul had never wandered outside these walls. Zyn had finally lost his battle with cancer and Bobby had followed his son to an early grave eleven months later.
Though willed to all four of his grandchildren, Trixie’s brothers had given her their shares outright. She’d expected needing to purchase them, but her siblings had signed the shop over to her without asking for a dime. Still raw from herabueloand best friend’s passing, she’d never cried so hard in her life as she’d hugged her older siblings. Later on, she’d suspected that herabuelohad somehow manufactured that from beyond the grave. It would have been something magical she’d expect from him to bring the siblings closer during their time of grief.
While her family tragedies did not stop with the deaths of herpapáandabuelo, the Romeros were strong and resilient. There was no beating them back or down.
Careful to make sure she had wiped all the grease from her hands, Trixie walked past the other mechanics working hard. She pressed the code to open the door to the hallway. The bay was filled with priceless wonders, so security was a big concern of hers. No one entered or exited the bay without inputting an individual code. Key cards were too easily swiped, whereas codes had to be told.
To get to her private projects, she had a retinal scanner installed. Only herself, her assistant Joey, and her head mechanic Jeff had access to that room. That was her sanctuary, her Fortress of Solitude. No one was getting close to her babies until she was ready to either auction or display them.
Heading up the stairs to the main floor of the showroom, Trixie caught her reflection in the glass door. Fuck, her hair looked like a rat’s nest. Her long black curls had always been a pain in her butt. ButAbuelohad loved her hair. He claimed she’d inherited two things from him: his love of cars and his thick, unruly hair. With those words constantly ringing in her head, she’d never cut it, even if it would make her life easier.
She quickly took the hairband out and tried to throw it up into a messy bun. Her work coveralls were grease and oil stained, so she unbuttoned the top half and wrapped the arms around her waist to tie off at her navel. The white tank she wore under her coveralls was skimpy but at least it was clean. She probably should have stopped by her office to put on some more deodorant, darn it. Her office was on the second floor above the showroom.
Screw it, she silently determined. Greg had seen her in far worse condition. She wondered if Peggy had come with him. She hadn’t seen her surrogate aunt in ages.
Trixie took the time to wipe her work boots against the doormat before walking through to the showroom. She nodded to her sales crew, all finely dressed, before hurrying past to thefront desk. With a shout of joy, Trixie launched herself into the old man’s tight grasp.
Despite only living a few miles from each other, Trixie was ashamed to say she hadn’t visited with herabuelo’s best friend in a long time. It was really good to see him.
Greg returned her hug with vigor. Either he didn’t realize how bad her hair was or he didn’t care, because he dropped a rough kiss onto her curls. “Trixie, baby, you’re looking good.” Setting her down on her feet, he gripped her shoulders as he took a step back to get a better view of her. “I swear you get taller every time I see you.”
Her cheeks reddened. He’d been saying that since she was two feet tall. Now, at twenty-five, she stood only an inch under him. “Stop it. I finished growing years ago. But look at you. Is that another gray hair?”
He chucked her gently across the chin. “I only have gray hairs.”
Her grin widened. “IsTìaPeg with you?”
He shook his head to her disappointment. “No, but she did invite you to dinner on Sunday night.”
That brightened Trix’s mood. She missed Sunday dinners with the Romeros and Wynns. It had been a long time since she’d been with her entire family. There hadn’t been a lot to celebrate recently.
“I’ll be there.” She missed Peggy. And she would never turn down a free meal. Trixie’s version of a gourmet meal was a bowl of cereal. Evenshecouldn’t mess up pouring milk into a bowl, though that was not from lack of trying. “What brings you by?”
“Well, I was passing by and wanted to stop in.” The man lived three miles down the road; when was he not passing by? “Peg got that old picture of me and Bobby fixed up, and it got me thinking that I hadn’t been by to see you in a while.”
The guilt on his face was clear. In his defense, Trixie also hadn’t been by to see either him or Peggy either. She reached out to grip his arm affectionately. “We’ve all been busy. It’s really good to see you.”
He squeezed her hand on his bicep. “I know, sweetheart. I’ll make more time, I promise.”
Greg and Peggy ran a halfway house. Their time was certainly kept busy. Trixie worried about them, especially Peggy. She knew opening their home to ex-cons trying to get their feet back under them was their way of being close to their son again, but she still worried. Peggy was stern and had a good heart, but she was still a woman in a house with a bunch of unknown men. Trixie didn’t know how Greg handled it.
There had been a few instances when the cops had had to be called. In fact, the time Trixie had passed the house almost three months ago to see a bunch of cop cars outside had probably been the last time she’d seen Greg or Peggy. One of the residents had taken a knife to another. Strong and resilient Peggy had been more upset about the hole in her kitchen wallpaper than she had been about the man who had used a knife to threaten her. The picture Greg was referring to had also been damaged in the scuffle, the blade piercing the glass and paper of the old photo.
Trixie was glad Peggy had been able to get it repaired. A copy of that same picture was framed in Trixie’s office, inherited from when it had beenAbuelo’s. If Peggy hadn’t been able to get Greg’s repaired, she would have offered up hers as a replacement or seen if it could be copied again. The original film had been long lost.
A man stepped up next to Greg, and Trixie blinked in wonder.Whoa.He wasn’t handsome by Hollywood standards. Like her Marine brother, his nose had been broken too many times to sit straight on his face. He was tall and muscular, filling out his button-up and jeans quite nicely. He wore workboots similar to her own. The short sleeves revealed extensive, incredible tattoos on both of his arms and hands. With her height, she rarely had to look up at men to meet their eyes, but she did for him. He towered over both Greg and Trixie.
It was his eyes that held her attention, though. One was bright blue and the other was sea green. The contrast was breathtaking. She loved unique things, always finding them more interesting than most. She didn’t know how common heterochromia was, but she certainly found it unique on this man.
Apparently, so had her body. As soon as he’d approached, her mouth had gone dry and her panties had gotten damp. Very, very damp. A shiver ran through her as his eyes met hers, making her grateful she’d decided to wear a bra today. Her small excuses for breasts didn’t often require one, especially when she was planning on wearing her coveralls. Knowing she was going to be working on her back for most of the day under the GTO, she had worn one to keep herself secure. She could feel her nipples perk up against the polyester.
