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Chapter 4
Arden
Holden’seyeswidenwhen the doorbell rings Monday evening. I wish I could share that level of excitement and fascination. I’ve been torn all day about my decision to let Dash fix the Saturn.
“Don’t move.” I climb up from the play mat where we’ve been playing with his toy blocks and flatten my shorts against my legs from where they’d ridden up.
My hand clenches at my side as soon as I see the bearded silhouette through the curtain, but I force a neutral expression and open the door.
Dash is wearing a plain, fitted shirt, worn jeans, and a subtle smirk.
I am definitely going to regret this. I already do, but as we’ve already discussed, I don’t have a lot of options right now.
“Ready for me to get to work?”
“So, you just need me to pop the hood, or...?”
Dash’s gaze drops lower, and his smile widens. “Hi there.”
Holden giggles and headbutts the back of my leg.
“Yeah, if you want to pop the hood, I’ll grab everything from my truck.”
Holden follows me outside, watching while Dash unloads the equipment from his truck and sets it out in front of the Saturn. While Dash gets started, I sit down on the edge of the patio and watch Holden run around in the grass nearby. Within a few minutes, however, Holden gives up his fascination with running and takes an immediate interest in whatever Dash is doing, running toward the Saturn and grabbing the bumper before I can even get my ass off the concrete.
“Hi,” Holden says. “Me help.”
“You want to help?” Dash asks, just as I grab Holden and swing him up to my hip again.
Holden lets out a long whine. “Mommy.”
“Baby, I don’t think you’re going to be much help.”
He pouts, jutting out his lower lip.
“You want to hold on to this for me?” Dash asks, holding out a pocket flashlight. “That’d be a big help.”
Holden’s expression brightens as he takes the flashlight and shakes it back and forth. “What’s that?” He points to something under the hood.
“That’s the compartment for the air filter.”
“What’s that?” Holden points to something else.
“Let’s let him work without a hundred questions.”
Dash chuckles. “It’s fine. I grew up climbing over cars while Dad fixed them.”
I let Holden stand on the front tire, overlooking the engine while Dash continues to work. Every now and then, Holden finds something else to question, but for the most part, he’s as content as watching his favorite television show.
Holden reaches over where Dash is working and points to a hook. “What’s that?”
“The dipstick.” Dash pulls it out and then gives me a look.
“Don’t. I know.”
He nods skeptically, then looks at Holden. “This tells you how much oil you have in your car and if it’s gone bad. Without oil the engine will go clunk-clunk instead of vroom-vroom.”
I sigh, biting my lower lip to keep from laughing at his description or snapping at the obvious jab until I can compose myself. “I’m sure it’ll last a couple more weeks.”
He continues staring with one eyebrow arched.
Self-doubt and panic set in. “Right?”
“Max.”
“Well, we’ll just add that to the hundred other things I need.” Maybe I should cut him some slack.
Dash twists and bends, sliding his hand between the engine and the front of the car to reach whatever he’s doing. Holden is completely immersed, but standing here in silence while Dash works feels awkward. “So, you do this often?”
“What? Fix cars for people I randomly meet at a restaurant? No. Sometimes I miss working on cars, but that nostalgia fades fast.”
“So you became a contractor? It kinda sounds just as strenuous.”
