I jerk my attention back to her and grumpily ask, “What?”
“I can’t believe this. Not the goody-two-shoes Nathan Campbell.”
The bartender brings my water and I knock it back, wishing it were something stronger.
“Is that why you’re doing all this? ‘Babysitting’ me. Keeping me from telling anyone about the proposal?”
“What are you talking about, Layla?”
Her eyes glittering with intrigue, my ex leans forward. “You’re in love with Chance McLanely’s girlfriend.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
RILEY
Being a female mechanic is a lonely road, and I spent most of my career friend-less until I met Betty.
Sure, I had a lot of male attention—being the only female in a room full of men means male attention is par for the course. However, I’ve never experienced the kind of sisterhood that the women from The Pink Garage offer.
I clutch my stomach and lean back in my chair, struggling to catch my breath as April concludes her story about mounting a car on four cement blocks.
“You seriously thought cement blocks would hold up a machine that weighs 4000 pounds?” Rebel asks, her blue eyes gleaming to the brim with laughter.
April, a beautiful mechanic with silky brown hair and freckles, raises a hand in defense. “I was in a rush and I’d left my electric jack at home. I didn’t have any other choices.”
“So what happened?” Cordelia asks, tilting her head in April’s direction. “You’re here today, so that means the car didn’t fall on top of you while you were working beneath it.”
“I kid you not, I hadjustwiggled out from under it to get something from my toolbox when I heard this loud ‘bang’! When I turned around, the cement blocks had crumbled, and the car was sitting flat on the grass. The thought that I could have been under that vehicle when the cement blocks gave in… I’m telling you. I was so scared I nearly peed my pants.”
Howls of laughter erupt from our table, and I notice patrons glancing our way and smiling, despite having no idea what the joke is.
“Needless to say,” April grins, “from now on, I always have a jack with me to keep the car off the ground.”
“I’m glad that story ended well and that we can laugh about it because it could have gone very differently,” I say, brushing away a tear.
“If it had gone differently, I’d be down a best friend and a business partner.” Rebel tips her bottle in April’s direction.
“And I’d be down a job,” I say.
Cordelia raises her bottle. “I’ll drink to that.”
“Oh, come on,Miss Davenport.” Rebel rolls her eyes. “You would have other opportunities.”
The name ‘Davenport’ rings several, very expensive bells. I shoot to the edge of my seat, staring at the biker chick wrapped in leather.
“Your last name is Davenport? Like the super-rich family with the carpets?—”
Rebel tips her head back and groans. “Oh, those carpet commercial jingles are stuck in mybrain.”
“That’s you?”
Cordelia shrugs and nods.
I smack a palm against my forehead. “That’s the ‘family business’ you said you used to work at? Way to downplay the truth.”
“Itwasa family business.”
“A family business worth quadra-bajillions!” I shriek.
