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Shit. I need to get out of here.

“I can get my check,” she says, slipping her hand from mine, still clasping the wrinkled receipt.

I pluck it from her fingers. “Let me. We haven’t even figured out how much that van repair is going to cost yet.”

I toss her a wink, but she doesn’t flinch. She holds my gaze until a metallic clang pulls my eyes down to the table. Bouncing on the surface is a black credit card that I don’t have to hold between my fingers to know it’s not a normal weight.

“I said I got it, Sylvester.” She draws out my full name with an acrid bite, but I hardly notice because I’m still wondering how she has that card and why my body is responding to her touch the way it is.

I know her parents were convicted, but they went bankrupt after they had to give back all the money they stole, or at least what they still had left. That card clearly isn’t from her family. So how the fuck could Josie hit the income and spending requirements to have one of those cards living out of her van? Then again, I know very little about her life now, so maybe I shouldn’t be surprised.

I let go of her hand and hold up both of mine in surrender. “Alright, my bad. Sorry.”

She clenches the receipt in her hand, drawing my eyes to her nails. She always picked fun, quirky colors, and the glittery red matches her hair.

For the briefest of moments, my mind drifts to how those fingers would feel wrapped around my cock and what it would be like if she dragged her nails up my⁠—

Fuck.

Before I have time to fully process that thought, Josie slides toward me before lifting herself off the cushion in the booth. Somehow, in the confined space, she manages to lean out over the table, step over my legs, and wriggle herself between me to squeeze her way out of the booth. I don’t even realize what’s happening before I get an eyeful of her perfect fucking ass while she shimmies over my lap. Those leggings leave nothing to the imagination, and I’m no longer thinking about those red nails. Instead, I imagine pulling her into my lap and holding her, like I have so many times in this exact goddamn booth—the same one that my sadistic family trapped me in with her.

Somehow, I find the restraint to not do that. Actually, maybe I didn’t even find it. Maybe I’m just too fucking paralyzed around her, and that’s why I sit here as she springs free, like a wounded doe escaping a trap. She does just that, bounding away from me, taking her card and the check up to the counter.

After tapping her card to the tablet and a quick thank you to Riley, Josie stops at the door and looks back at me. “Do you think you’ll have an idea of what’s wrong with my van before closing time?”

I sit there dumbfounded but manage to collect myself. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks,” she says, the corner of her mouth twitching with a hint of a smile that never quite forms. Then she turns and heads out the door. I watch as the door swings shut behind her and she crosses the street back toward the motel.

I hang my head and bury my face in my hands. What the hell was that? I thought this would be a mundane Saturday morning, and maybe I’d have to see her later today. Instead, I was blindsided by the redheaded storm that still haunts my sleepless nights. That’s how I ended up here, with two coffees to go, sitting alone in a booth.

CHAPTER 6

SLY

Whistling

Thankfully, the rest of the day has been far less eventful. After getting back to the garage, I set out to decompress after the run-in at the diner by working on Josie’s van and diagnosing what’s wrong with it. Dad’s over at the desk, handling parts orders because I don’t like fancy technology, if you could even call our old computer that. I like old, vintage, and analog, like my classic muscle car.

After crawling under Josie’s van and inspecting the transmission and drivetrain, I must admit this rig is by far one of the best I’ve worked on, even if it has far more onboard tech than I like. This isn’t some weekend warrior rig. I can tell it was custom-built and clearly lived in full-time. Every detail was considered and is Josie’s. From the lifted suspension for accessing remote terrain, to the heavy-duty insulation for winter use—all of it screams self-sufficiency and independence.

She was always the town wild child. This van fits perfectly with that, minus the part about the transmission being absolutely fucked.

Yeah, that part doesn’t fit with her free spirit, able-to-move-on-a-whim personality, because this needs to be replaced.

A bead of sweat drips down my forehead while I look up at the crack in the transmission body from my mechanics creeper under the van. I rub my arm across my forehead to wipe it away, wondering how this managed to happen in the first place. I’m sure it was some fluke thing, or maybe just bad luck with a defect, because every other part of this rig is perfectly cared for and maintained.

I remember our last year of high school when we first started seeing climbers and outdoor thrill seekers come through town more frequently. The first time she saw an earlier model of one of these vans parked in front of the diner, her eyes lit up, and all Josie could talk about was renting one together before she left for college or during her first break. She instantly saw the potential of van life and the freedom it offered compared to the small town we lived in.

While she was away at school, I was already planning to stay in Sterling Springs. We were going to make it work by taking turns visiting, since Utah is only about a half-day’s drive away. We’d see each other whenever we could, holiday breaks and weekends. We knew it wouldn’t be ideal, but we would have time together. I was even honestly looking forward to renting one of these things with her eventually.

Maybe we were just delusional kids, but we sure as shit thought we had it all figured out. We even had a plan for what we would do after she graduated. She’d come back to work at the ski resort her parents were running and redeveloping, and I’d start to take over the garage. At that point, both of my brothers were out of the picture of ever coming back to town. We even dreamed of one day building our own van and what it would be like. I knew I could build something special for us, for her.

Most of all, Sterling Springs was our home and where we always pictured living together. It’s where we grew up, it’s where our families lived, it’s where we saw our future—even if we wanted to add in some adventure.

Everything was going great until the summer before she was supposed to start college. I remember it like it was yesterday. I was with her at her house on the day the news broke that her parents were being charged with fraud. I held her hand while we watched the sheriff arrest them. Their arrest made the last weeks of that summer hell for all of us.

Part of me is proud of her because it looks like she did what she always wanted. Of course, she would dive headfirst into van life. It fits her so well, and I wasn’t going to be the one to hold her back from that.