“Am I? All he talks about is his stock portfolio. Thrilling.”
She sighed. “You’re focusing on the superficial, Rose. Don’t you want someone with stability? Someone who can provide for you?”
I guess she was right.
I didn’t argue further. With a pointed smile, I pushed myself out of the chair, hoping the magazine would keep her distracted. Fat chance.
She glanced at her phone, which lit up with a notification. “Oh, and Rose?” Her voice cut out. “Your father said yes. Don’t forget to track down Sean for a ride to the marina next Friday.”
“Right . . .Where is Sean?”
“He should be in the garage.”
Max was usually the one who serviced the cars, not Sean. Not that I was complaining. I didnotwant a repeat of the ride home, trapped in a metal box with a man whose silence was as dense as fog. It wasn’t exactly my cup of tea.
“Okay, great,” I said before turning on my heel once more and stalking off to the garage.
Reaching the door, I pushed it open. The hinges creaked through the enclosed space. The air grew cooler. The smell of gasoline and motor oil made my nose scrunch.
On the far-right side of the garage, Sean was there, bent over an engine block. Grease covered his forearms and his knuckles.
Despite his focus, a bright smile lit up his face as soon as he saw me.
“Are ya here to help me out, kiddo?” he asked, his voice encouraging me to step inside further. A single lock of darkbrown hair fell across his forehead as he turned his attention to me completely.
He gestured to a space beside him—a small space on the toolbox that he wanted me to use as a seat, it seemed. I settled on the cool metal, the worn grooves biting into the fabric of my dress. His large arms, dusted with grime, tensed slightly as he shifted his weight, one hand coming to rest on the dented hood of a car that looked like it had seen better days.
“Do you need it?” I blurted out, the words tumbling from my lips before I could fully form the question.
Logic dictated I shouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t know a spark plug from a lug nut, and my mechanical expertise extended as far as changing a flat tire (with copious amounts of swearing and online tutorials).
My “help” included chitchat, and that was about all.
He shrugged, his arm shaking the car slightly. “Cars ... boats ... same mechanics.”
I couldn’t help but laugh, the sound echoing off the wall of the garage. “Right,” I agreed. “But Max usually handles the cars. Shouldn’t he be doing this instead of you?”
“Not the man you expected?”
Disappointed? Not exactly.
Relieved? Maybe.
I needed a ride home (and to the marina, apparently), preferably from a man who wasn’t six foot four with a stupid,stupidsmile.
“Max took off about a week ago,” Sean explained, wiping the back of his hand across a grease-streaked forehead. “Needed some time off, he said.”
Needed some time off?Max, the man who seemed to thrive on constant movement, was taking a break?
The image didn’t compute. He was the human equivalent of the Duracell Bunny. What would he even do on a break? Rob banks? Sneak people out of prison? Who knew?
“Speaking of Max,” I began, ready to complain. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that little joyride. Why on earth would you do that to me?”
Sean chuckled deeply. “I was helping your father deal with Ricky after the whole drink incident. Plus, Max offered.”
He offered?I wondered if that meant anything. Still, I watched Sean with a deadpan expression. “We drove home in silence.”
“Ay, that’s typical for him,” he said with a shrug. “The secret is to talk to him anyway.”
