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From the corner of my eye, I catch Lizzie raising a brow at me.
“For what car?” she asks.
Oh, right.
I open my mouth to question why else she’d want to make Winters Auto-Repair her first stop on the grand tour of the Forge but the way her gaze has latched onto that sign—like it’s the new core of her universe—has me snapping it shut again.
There is no end to the strange world of the female species, I decide.
“Oh good, they’re open,” she breathes as we turn onto Main and I cut across the empty street to park out front of the repair shop.
Despite the early hour, Jace is already present and accounted for, wearing overalls and a company baseball cap. After unlocking and throwing open the first of the two shutters, he pauses at the sound of my truck. A hand to his brow shades his eyes from the rising sun as he squints at me.
“Walker?” he calls in surprise. “Your clutch go again?”
I’m not slow in vacating the truck but Lizzie is faster still. There’s a creak and a slam as the cab door closes and she’s immediately striding over the asphalt with purpose.
Unsurprisingly, Jace has far less of an issue with the sudden company of a pretty woman than I’ve been having. His eyes skim over Lizzie appreciatively and a smile breaks across his face. I can’t exactly fault him for it. The blonde had already proven herself to be impossible to ignore.
“Mr. Winters, I presume?” Lizzie drawls and holds out her hand, showing off a smile that lights up her whole face.
Jace glances between the two of us, clearly confused. I can’t decide whether he’s been sent into his state of euphoria by the direct attention Ms. City is giving him or just the bizarre image the pair of us make. I can practically see it stamped on his features. Hermit Walker and the Blonde Bombshell. Not exactly a normal day for East River Forge.
“Only my old man goes by Mr. Walker, ma’am,” Jace steps forward, eager to take Lizzie’s hand. “With me, it’s just Jace.”
“Oh, surely not?” Lizzie cajoles with the click of her tongue and the shake of her head. “I’m learning there’s nothing ‘just’ about anyone in this town, Jace.”
I ignore the glance Jace shoots me over Lizzie’s shoulder. With the barest inching of an eyebrow, he’s throwing hot suspicion my way. Instead of getting back in the cab and heading on down to the Miller place, I lean my backside against the truck. I fold my arms, cross my ankles and try to adopt a position of carefree disinterest. Lizzie’s magnetism has my ear as much as it has Jace’s… well, Jace’s everything.
“You’re charm itself, sweetheart,” he tells her, releasing her hand.
For a moment, I wonder if his palm is now tingling the same way mine had after helping Lizzie up out of that underbrush. Electric sparks, like static, had jolted up my arm. Warmth had flooded my fingers.
That had been my first warning of danger.
Why I’d not listened and immediately left her there is beyond me.
“—handy too.”
My ears prick as Lizzie begins to sell herself. She’s smiling, flipping back her hair, and using all the classic buzz words like ‘work-ethic’ and ‘never tardy’.
Understanding dawns on me and brings a few aftershocks along for the ride—she’s actually propositioning him for a job.
Ms. New York wants to work with oil and metal?
“You want to work here?” I suddenly demand of her, cutting into the conversation.
“Hey!” Jace calls back, affronted by my tone. “We’re not that much of a shithole. I like working here.”
I’d have never argued against it. Winters’ Auto Repair had always been a decent business, run by decent people. But any work with cars is a greasy job. Not to mention physically strenuous and potentially dangerous.
“You’re a mechanic,” I remind him.
“So am I.”
Jace and I freeze in place and stare at Lizzie. With three small words, she’d brought the conversation up short and had us both chewing on our back teeth.
“What?” Jace is the first to break the silence.
