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Davis gave her a warning glance and she smiled, turning her attention back to the task at hand. That should shut him up.
Five minutes went by as Charlie focused on the carburetor. Five minutes of nothing but the faint strains of some country song (she’d like to know who’d changed her classic rock channel to new country) talking about broken hearts, whiskey, and a flat tire. Deep stuff,
she thought wryly, swaying a bit because, well, the melody was kind of cool and the guy did have a great voice. A little rough around the edges, like it’d been soaked in that there whiskey he was singing about.
“Bet he’d take you up on an invite to the Valentine’s dance at the community center Saturday night.”
Sweet Jesus and Joseph and Mary and anyone else for that matter. Guess her five minutes were up.
“Davis, since when do I have time to go dances?” She turned the carburetor over in her hands, eyes inspecting every inch of it. She was just about done.
“You used to.”
“Yeah, well, I used to do a lot of things.” She tried not to sound bitter, but even Charlie winced at the heaviness that colored her words.
“That’s my point.”
Oh. My. God. Now glaring at Davis, she set the carburetor down because, in fact, she wanted to throw it at him. And knowing that she was more than capable of doing just that if her temper got the better of her, Charlie stepped away from the bench. They were too busy for her only mechanic to be out with a head injury.
“Why in hell would you think that I’d consider sleeping with a guy I just met?”
Davis’s mouth twitched. “I didn’t say anything about sleeping with the guy.”
“I know exactly what you’re getting at. Just because I haven’t had sex in like forever, doesn’t mean you have the right to offer me up like some goddamn prize to some random man who happens to be staying in town for a few weeks. Rick whoever-the-hell-he-is can get his rocks off with someone else.”
Okay, now her cheeks were burning, but she didn’t give a rat’s ass.
“I just mentioned a dance is all.”
“A dance that I have no intention of attending.”
“If it wasn’t Valentine’s Day, would you go?”
“Nope.”
“When’s the last time you had some fun anyway?”
“What?” Now she was shooting daggers at her mechanic. He was treading just a little too close to home.
“Fun? You remember what that word is, don’t you? It’s got three letters?” As if she couldn’t count, he held up three dirty, greasy digits.
She didn’t answer him because she’d gone from irritated to pissed in less than two minutes, and well, she couldn’t answer him even if she wanted to. Not without lying. Fun? That was a word that had no place in her life anymore. At least not right now.
Maybe never.
“I know you’ve had it rough with Connor and all. With what happened with your dad and how the little guy’s handled it. But Jesus, Charlotte you’re wasting away here. You had so much…”
“So much what?” Her throat was tight and she could barely get the words out.
“Potential,” Davis said softly. “Don’t let life beat you down, Charlie. You’re not getting any younger and last time I looked, Fisherman’s Landing wasn’t exactly crawling with eligible men. Rick’s into you. Hell, Ava and I both knew it Friday night.”
How the hell had they gone from fixing a damn truck to talking about her non-existent sex life?
“Davis—”
“And since we’re on the subject,” he interrupted. “It might be time for you to jump on that horse again.”
“And you think Rick’s a horse that I need to ride?”
