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Something in my demeanor must be giving away the source of my distraction because Lacey is now watching the exchange out front of the repair shop with an unpleasant shadow in her eye. Her stare is hawkish as it lands on Lizzie.
“Honestly, it was my fault,” I say again, unsure why I’m so determined to take the blame. “I can be over there to look at it in an hour.”
Significantly shorter than me, Lacey has to tilt her head back to look me in the eye. Her lower lip is a little larger than the top, turning her expression into a natural pout.
“But I’m not on shift ‘til tonight,” she drawls.
“Hey, Walker!”
My focus is torn in two again when Jace calls out to me.
Lacey throws back her mane of curls and glares in his direction.
“We are having a conversation here, Jason!”
“Bite me, Laila…” he calls back, teasing a set of perfect white teeth at her. Lacey blushes and the battle is lost. Jace moves right on over her.
“Listen, Walker—you haunting my doorstep all day or what? I’ve got a delivery to make.”
I look at Lizzie who is watching Jace’s finesse over women with amused derision.
“I’m just waiting on—”
“Oh, Lizzie’s staying,” he interrupts me, and I come up short.
“You’re hiring her?” I can’t believe it. Five minutes in town and the woman has a steady job.
At my tone, Lizzie’s fists find her hips, and those long, golden tresses are thrown back in defiance. At first, she seems to be psyching herself up for another lecture on just how badly I’ve inserted my foot into my mouth, but the impulse passes. She simply waves a dismissive hand, as if I’m nothing more than an irritating fly, and makes a beeline for the workshop.
“I’ll get changed and meet you under that Ford in a sec,” she says, slapping Jace on the shoulder as she goes by like they’ve known each other for years.
“You got it, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart?
Only when she’s out of earshot do I dare repeat my question. This time, the accusation is deeper, infused with a menace I can’t seem to shake.
“You’re hiring her? Seriously? You don’t know her.”
Jace has always been impulsive. Even in high school. He’d been an adrenaline junkie with a band of followers who loved him for his reckless courage and general rage against any and all limitations.
But he’d never been stupid. And he’d never done anything that would put his family’s livelihood in jeopardy…
Such as hiring a complete stranger who could have memorized Mechanics for Dummies on her plane ride across state lines.
“Oh no, my friend,” Jace is assuring me with a shake of his head. He fiddles with an oil rag before glancing back over his shoulder. His eyes follow Lizzie’s lithe figure as it darts in and out of view, exploring the workshop. “You don’t know her.”
I stand there dumbly, arms folded in a silent demand for clarity. Jace looks at me as if I’m insane.
“Dude, that’s Lizzie Lucas.”
“I know.”
She’d told me that much at least.
“Elizabeth Lucas,” he repeats again. “As in daughter of Eric Lucas. The racing driver? The World Cup winner? The guy who’s driven everything on wheels and even poled in an F1 season?”
“Okay…” I hedge, not particularly seeing his point.
