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Ryan walks next to me, holding the umbrella over our heads until we reach the metal door leading to the mechanic’s shop. Then he offers the umbrella to me, pulls the keys from his pocket again, and fumbles through them until he finds the one to the shop and unlocks the deadbolt. I watch his back as he unlocks the door and pushes it open. The wet shirt does nothing to hide his muscles. Being a tow truck driver must be harder work than I imagined for him to maintain a physique like his.
He steps inside the darkened building and flips several light switches, illuminating the garage with halogen lights hanging from the rafters. Ryan turns and beckons to me. “Come in outta the rain. It’s warmer in here.”
I close the umbrella, shake off the excess moisture, then step inside. Ryan takes the umbrella from me, propping it against the wall next to the doorframe.
The shop has five bays with two cars elevated as if the mechanics weren’t done doing repairs. The other three bays also had cars, but the cars are sitting on the cement floor with their hoods open. The shop smells of gasoline and exhaust, and a layer of dust covers almost everything. Other than that, it’s surprisingly tidy.
I follow Ryan to the office area and he gestures to a chair in front of a large metal desk with a laptop. “Have a seat. It’ll take just a couple of minutes to get your car into the system, then we can take you back to your hotel.”
His eyes dart up to mine and he hesitates. “Or, if you’re interested, we could get a bite to eat. I haven’t eaten yet today, so I’m starving.”
My stomach gurgles as if in agreement. I hadn’t had breakfast this morning because the stress of the funeral made me sick. But now that it’s over, I’m ravenous. My mind flashes back to the time he offered to give me a ride and I declined. I’d regretted my answer pretty much every day of my high school life afterward. I am not going to make that mistake twice. Even if it’s something as benign as having lunch.
“Sure,” I say, offering a smile. My stomach flutters again, and I internally scold it. Don’t read anything into the offer. It’s lunch. Two old friends—acquaintances?—having lunch and catching up. He’s just being polite. “That sounds wonderful,” I say.
His posture seems to loosen slightly and he flashes a dimpled smile. “Great. Gimme a couple of minutes and we can get out of here.”
Chapter 5
Biting The Hand
Flashback: Ryan
I'vebeenaresidentof Walla Walla all my life.
Big fish in a little pond, that sort of thing.
This year, the Varsity Quarterback position is a shoo-in. I just have to go through the formality of tryouts. I'll probably be Homecoming King, too. But none of that really excites me. This small town is closing in on me and I'm counting down the months till I escape to college.
I pretty much sleep through the on-loading and driving in the vans to the lake for our church activity. I hadn't planned on going, but I did it as a favor to my mom.
Then I get off the bus, rub my eyes, and sit with the other kids at the picnic tables to get a rundown of the rules for our all-day gathering. As our leader gives us the standard rundown, I glance around the group. My gaze stutters to a stop on a girl I've never seen before.
She's cute with long brown hair pulled into a braid down her back. She's wearing a white tank top and hot pink shorts over her swimsuit with tanned legs that seemed to go to her armpits.
That's when I notice the guy she's sitting with. Boyfriend or brother?
I lean over to Cimmeron who has his face on his arms. Nudging him, I say. "Who's the new girl?"
"Hmm?"
Cimmeron looks up, his eyes bleary from sleep and his red hair sticking out in all directions like he didn't comb it this morning. We've been friends since Kindergarten, and play on the football team together. Pretty much anywhere I go, he goes, and vice versa.
I nod toward the girl at the table next to ours. "Do you know who that is?"
Cimmeron yawns and stretches, catching the attention of the girl at the other table. She turns toward us. I catch her eye and smile. She smiles, blushes, and turns away.
I spend the rest of the lecture watching her and wondering what she's all about.
For the first part of the morning, I watch her from a distance, trying to figure out if she's worth the effort. Is she nice? Snarky? Smart? Stupid?
When she gets onto the boat to go water skiing, I get on too. When it's her turn, she strips off her tank top and shorts, revealing a hot pink and orange swimsuit that brings out the tan in her skin and the blue in her eyes. As she straps her life jacket back on, I notice the lean muscles on her legs, proving she's an athlete, not one of those girls who starves herself skinny. When she flashes a dazzling smile and thanks the boat driver before jumping into the water, I stare after her. I have to know who this girl is.
She gets up on her skis on the first try. The tension on the rope makes the muscles in her shoulders and arms tight, giving her arms definition I rarely see on girls. I can't keep my eyes off her. She zigzags across the wake in long passes, grinning from ear to ear. Finally, She lets go of the rope and gracefully descends into the water until her head's bobbing up and down in the lake, the tip of her skis poking out of the water.
When she gets back onto the boat, one of the other guys tries to compliment her, but she seems oblivious to his flirting. She sits next to a couple of other girls for the rest of the ride, bantering, and laughing with them. But I catch her name: Carrie.
After we return to the doc, Carrie climbs out of the boat just as one of the leaders calls, "Lunch time!"
