“I’ve listened to a few—some religiously,” I said, glancing up. “Mostly true crime. Fixing cars pairs well with murder.”
Noelle tilted her head. “And what does that say about you?”
“That I’ve got good taste and a lot of brake pads to clean.”
That earned a full laugh, short and surprised, like it slipped past her defenses before she could stop it. Milo looked up at the sound, tail thumping a few times in approval.
I ducked back under the hood before I smiled too wide.
“So what’s your show called?” I asked, voice muffled behind the engine block.
She hesitated. “Whispers in the Dark.”
“Spooky.”
“Debunk-y,” she corrected. “It’s paranormal content, but the skeptical kind. We go to haunted places, cryptid festivals, cult towns—do interviews, collect folklore, explain the science behind why your farmhouse isn’t actually possessed.”
“And yet,” I said, poking at a warped hose with my wrench, “you act like stepping foot in a small town is scarier than any ghost story.”
She hummed. “I uh…I tend to stay in the city and hold down the fort. My co-host does the interviews and site visits; I was going to meet him in Atlanta.”
“Boyfriend?”
I blurted the word out without even thinking about it—then ducked my head and made sure not to look beyond the hood. But Noelle just let out a short laugh.
“Just a co-host,” she said. “He likes boys.”
I could tell she was testing the waters, seeing how Iwould react. I wasn’t sure how to react, exactly—not because I had any problem with that, but because I absolutely didn’t want her to know I was trying to find out if she was single.
“Oh,” I said. “Good for him.”
I reached for the rag in my pocket and wiped grease from my hands, giving the engine one more glance. The radiator was cracked. The hose looked like it had gone a few rounds with a bear. If she made it another ten miles in that car, it was a miracle.
I straightened up and finally looked at her.
She was leaning against the shop door now, arms loosely crossed, Milo curled at her feet like a golden sentry. The porch light behind her gave her a faint halo, turning the edges of her short black hair to silver. She didn’t look fragile. She looked…watchful.
Like she’d lived through something and was waiting for the next round to start.
I got that. Hated it, but I got it.
“So what happens now?” she asked. “Do you break the bad news gently, or do I get the full horror movie score while you tell me I’ll be here for a week?”
“I’ve got the parts for the hose in stock,” I said. “Radiator’ll need to be ordered. If the supplier’s sober and in a good mood, I might have it Monday. If not—yeah, it could be a few more days.”
She nodded like she’d already made peace with the worst-case scenario. “Okay…so—is there a motel in town? I guess I’m gonna need a place to stay.”
I hummed, shaking my head. “Motel’ll be booked up for the festival,” I said. “All the rentals, too.”
Noelle heaved a deep sigh and raked her hands back through her hair. “Fuck…so sleeping in my dead car it is?—”
“Not so fast,” I said. “At the very least, you could crash onmy couch. Not comfortable, but good coffee. And…let me call around, see if there’s a spot for ya.”
She frowned, examining me, still not sure if she could trust me. That was smart, I supposed. I knew I was harmless…but she didn’t.
“You know you come off as too friendly, right?”
I let out a short laugh. “Have you met my dog?”
