AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Tears burn the backs of my eyes when thinking about my mom and all her amazing stories. She was beautiful and kind. She always had a way with words.
My father always said I reminded him of her when they first met. He said I looked just like her and wasn’t surprised when I started high school freshman year that Marcus immediately asked me out on a date.
Marcus never let me go after that day, until recently. When my parents died, so did everything else, it snuffed the light in my life. Everyone and everything I knew, died with them only leaving precious memories. As for Marcus, it’s disappointing when you realize you weren’t important to someone as you thought you were. His avoidance and his silence is proof of that.
I get out of the car not giving Henry enough time to open my door in my haste and make sure it is clear to cross the parking lot and head over to the shop. Looking at the closed garage door, I notice a sign and that reads, “We’re open. A/C inside”.
Turning the knob to the office door, I enter and notice a small office and five street racing cars suspended on different lifts. The place looks like a modern version of a race car shop you see on TV.
The garage floor gleams like a mirror, and everything looks organized. Red toolboxes and shelves align the walls and I notice this is not just your typical mechanic shop. This is a street performance group that specializes in building cars to race.
Walking farther into the garage that smells like faint gas and oil, I call out. “Hello?”
“Give me a minute.” I hear a man’s voice but when I look around, I don’t see anyone. There is a sudden noise of something hitting metal. When I look under one of the sports cars on my left, I see a man dressed in mechanic overalls lying on an automotive mechanic bed under the car.
“Oh, okay. I was just inquiring about the Jeep you have for sale out front,” I say in a soft voice.
He grunts, and something slips and falls with a thud. "I said, give me a minute,” he says, raising his voice in an aggressive tone that makes me flinch. He has a deep, manly voice that doesn’t sound like he is old.
From where I’m standing, his sneakers look like they belong to someone young. Checking the time on my phone, I realize I’m taking too long and must get back to head into the grocery store before I’m late. Leaving me no choice but to leave and come back another day.
Taking a deep sigh, I turn to leave. “I’m sorry to have caught you at a bad time. Have a nice day,” I say as I walk away.
He was so rude, but I guess he was busy and annoyed by my interruption. What is wrong with people in this part of Spencer? They are so rude and entitled. They think they can treat people like crap.
The sound of wheels sliding over concrete echo in the garage, but I ignore it because I really need to get back. The last thing I need is for Mrs. St. Claire to regret her decision in allowing me to switch tasks with Camila. Kalum has been moody since I showed up and crashed his senior year. Avoiding him is the best thing I can offer and the best therapy for his hate. Having her regret her decision is not an option for me.
My hand reaches the handle of the door to exit the garage and the sound of footsteps reaches me. The door swings open and I’m about to step outside when the man’s voice has me stopping almost in mid-stride.
“I apologize for being rude back there,” he says. This time his voice is a deep rumble. “You said you wanted to inquire about the Jeep?”
When I turn around slowly, my eyes meet dark brown. His eyes caress my face for a second longer than necessary and then he clears his throat and looks down at his hands that are smudged with oil and grease.
He looks around and finds a rag laying across a metal tray with wheels and retrieves it quickly. He is certainly not old and, surprisingly, young. He has dark hair that is straight and nicely shaped eyes with dark lashes. He reminds me of a young Josh Hartnett when he played in the movieHere on Earth, except his arms are more muscular and defined. He is wearing a tank top under his work overalls and his forearms are well corded with muscle from a man that works day in and day out as I watch him wipe his hands attempting to clean them.
The door is still open, and my body turns back in the direction to leave because I have already wasted too much time and answer him as I continue to walk out the door.
“Yes, I’m sorry to have bothered you, but I don’t have much time and have to get going.”
My eyes squint against the sun setting in the sky from being inside the garage and give myself a minute for my eyes to adjust before making my way down the parking lot.
“Shit.” I hear him swear softly as he quickly catches up with me and walks ahead of me and turns to face me causing me to stop. “Are you really interested in the Jeep?”
“Yes, I was, but I have to get going or I’m going to be late.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, late for what?”
My chin tilts up because the last thing I need is more judgment about my situation. I don’t know why but I tell him. “For work. I’m late for work.”
“Where do you work?”
“Does it matter?” I volley back.
He crosses his arms over his chest and I notice he has tattoos of different types of cars and gears with letters written across his forearms that read, ‘If it’s fast, I built it.’
His gaze looks over my uniform and quirks a brow. “I have never met anyone that attends Spencer Academy to have a job.”
That makes sense. He is right. I don’t think anyone that has ever attended Spencer Academy knows the meaning of a job.
