Gina hadn’t had class today.
She was in on this… whatever this was.
Her gaze darted upward, locking onto their sympathetic yet smiling expressions. The pieces clicked, one by one, tumbling into place.
“Miss Cassidy got her Lexus from the other lot, but she screamed instead of getting upset. We’re here to help with things, not make them worse,” Ollie chuckled softly, extending his hand again. “Mr. Cassidy likes things handled quietly, so if you’d like to come back to my office, we can sign all the papers so you are legal. He was very specific that both names be on the title so if you had any problems at all, you could handle things.”
Nettie’s world tilted sideways. She blinked rapidly, her face wet, heart stammering. “He can’t… he can’t do this… can he? I must be dreaming. He didn’t, he couldn’t, we’re fighting and…”
“He texted my cell phone this morning,” David interrupted gently. He held out his phone, showing the screen. Nettie’s breath hitched, her knees weakening until Ollie and another salesman caught her arms, steadying her before she could collapse again.
There, clear as day, were the messages.
I had my friend’s car towed in. Put her in a new four-door sedan on the showroom floor. She pays for nothing. Concierge service, oil changes, title in her name. The works.
Take care of her, David – her name is Bernadette Yarborough.
Always.
Thanks!
You got it. We’ll make her happy…
The words blurred through Nettie’s tears, undeniable.
“Will this one work? Or would you like a different color?” David asked softly, gesturing toward the Mercedes. “He said to take care of you. Do you like this car?”
Nettie swayed, her throat closing. “I need a chair,” she whispered.
Three men scrambled at once, nearly tripping over each other in their hurry to fetch her one. Nettie collapsed into the seat they placed beneath her, clutching her phone like a lifeline. She checked her phone once again, and Tate’s name glowed on the screen. The message she had texted Tate was marked ‘Read’.
He read it – and didn’t respond.
“I need five minutes, please… alone,” Nettie managed to mumble as she quickly dialed Tate’s number, only for him notto answer again. She covered her eyes, trying to hold back tears, feelings of anxiety, and doubt churning within her.
Sure, the car was beautiful, but he didn’t have to do this. They seemed to fight all the time now that she knew he was back in town. They hadn’t spoken for years until recently, so why would he do something like this? – and he knew! He knew when she’d called him, when she texted him… and never said a word.
Dialing his number again, she heard a voice – his voice.
“Where is she? Why is she still here?”
But it wasn’t on her phone. His voice was echoing in the showroom, very close – and very dominating, like he was angry or frustrated.
Her stomach dropped.
“Mr. Cassidy, we were—” one of the salesmen began, but Nettie didn’t wait to hear more. She shoved through the frosted glass door, blinking against the glare of the showroom lights until her gaze collided with his.
Tate stood there, helmet in hand, a storm etched across his face. He shoved the helmet into the sales manager’s arms with enough force to make the man stumble, then pivoted and stalked toward her. Each step radiated controlled aggression, an energy that hit her square in the chest and sent her instinctively retreating into the office.
The door shut with a sharp click behind him.
“You’re crying,” he said, his voice low but cutting, as if the words had been dragged out of him against his will.
Her lips trembled. “Tate…”
“You hate it.”
“You didn’t have to give me a car…” she managed, hating the way her voice sounded small, defensive.
