Page 14 of A Very Merry Mistake

“There’s no rush,” Claire states. “You can take care of it after the storm clears.”

Hank gives me a look with an arched brow.

Claire notices. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, no. He’s just being dramatic. It’s nothing to worry about.” I take a big swig of my cola. “It’s going to be fine.”

He needs to understand it’s too late for me to pull out of this now.

I’m committed to this woman until she leaves. I’m all she has.

Hank nods. “Okay. Whatever you say. I’ll get to this as soon as we open again. It could be a few days if the storm is as they expect.”

This news seems to deflate her. “A few days?” she asks.

Or is she acting?

Hank has me questioning her motives.

“Yeah. But I’ve been told it could shut us down for up to a week.” Hank glances at me and then Claire.

“I was hoping I could get back to the airport as soon as possible. Let’s say you can’t fix my vehicle before I can book a flight. Could I pay you to tow it to the rental center?”

Hank tilts his head at her. “That would be quite expensive.”

“Money doesn’t matter,” Claire tells him with the confidence of a royal heir. And I find it sexy as hell. The woman who wanted to crawl into the grave after tripping on the raised lip of the door has vanished.

“It could be close to two thousand dollars,” he warns.

“Then I’ll double it,” she states.

Hank is just as confused as me. “I know you’re not from around here, ma’am, but that’s not how bargainin’ works.”

She smiles, and her eyebrow perks up. “Oh, I’m aware. I’d like to make my inconveniences worth your time. Plus, maybe it will help you forget my grand entrance. Please, just keep me updated with the progress. If Merryville doesn’t work out for me this season, I’d rather be in New York, where I’m not a burden to anyone. Never mind on the last part. I’ve realized what I’ve said. Seems I’m a burden wherever I go, but at least I’d be home.” There’s more behind those words than I think she meant to reveal.

Hank notices, too, but he manages to keep his mouth shut for once. “Sure. Want to leave me your number?”

“I don’t have any business cards on me, but if you have a pen and paper…”

Hank pulls a yellow, lined notepad with different prices scribbled on the side and picks up a dull pencil with grease stains and teeth marks on it. He hands it to Claire, and she looks down at it, then back at him, and her lip curls ever so slightly.

He snatches a pen off the top of the counter. “Sorry ’bout that. We’re all mechanics here. Not afraid to get our hands dirty.”

I narrow my eyes at his ridiculous attempt to flirt with the woman he just accused of being a mail-order bride, a prostitute, and a serial killer.

“Yeah,” she says, completely unamused, not giving him a second glance as she jots down her information. Then she turns to me.

“Ready?” I ask with a side smile.

“I am now,” Claire says as she walks past me.

I look at Hank over my shoulder, and he laughs.

“Keep me posted,” I tell him, referring to the truck.

“JJ. Hold up.” Hank runs toward me and places his hand on my shoulder. “Remember, back in the day, when you told me that you could make anyone fall in love with you, and if you couldn’t, you’d give me your motorcycle?”

I glare at him. “You remember that?”

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