George has been regaling me with Garrett’s unparalleled mechanical talents. What he hasn’t shared is why he’s willing to come out late on a Tuesday night the second Garrett calls.
There’s a story there, one I’m sure I can get out of George if we had more time, but he’s just shifted his truck into park after reversing up to a huge warehouse. Before I can ask a question about where we are, both men jump out of the truck.
“Sit tight. Let me get the door open then I’ll show you inside.” Garrett shuts the door on his last word and as much as I want to follow him, the weather has taken a turn. The wind is whipping trees and pushing the rain that started a few minutes ago sideways.
“Probably a good idea to stay dry,” I mutter as I unbuckle my belt and twist in the seat to look through the back window. What I see has me gasping.
Garrett has raised the wide roller door to reveal a workshop that goes on and on. The place is lit up better than a Christmastree, and I can see several cars in various stages of repair as well as space for more.
“Wow.” The lights of the workshop are like a beacon and in spite of my earlier thoughts, I shuffle across the seat and open the door. “Shit!”
Rain slashes at my face and I duck my head as I drop to the ground and close the truck door. I don’t waste time before I rush across the driveway for the open door.
“I told you to wait,” is yelled behind me and I toss up a hand to acknowledge the words but keep going.
Once I’m out of the rain, I give myself a shake so I don’t leave water everywhere. I haven’t even taken a step when Garrett comes at me.
“Here!” He trusts a towel at me. “Use this. It’s clean.”
Grateful in spite of his abruptness, I take it from him. All I want is to dry off as best I can so I can go farther inside and explore. I see a convertible toward the back. I have no idea what year it is, but it isn’t recent. It reminds me of the one in the early nineties movie where two friends hit the road for the adventure of a lifetime.
I always wanted to do something like that. Thought about it a time or two after the divorce. Maybe I should think about it again once Garrett gets the Jag running.
“Nice to meet you, Alexandria.” George calls out before rushing through the rain to his truck.
“Same.” I give him a wave before focusing on Garrett.
Now that George is leaving, Garrett is lowering the roller door. There’s a whir of a motor but for some reason I expected to hear screeching, grinding, or at least something loud enough to rattle my bones. But there isn’t any of that.
And when I turn and take in the rest of his workshop, I think I understand why.
Everything is organized and clean, cared for in a way I’ve never seen before in a garage. There isn’t a speck of dust or grease anywhere, and I have to admit I’m astonished by that.
“C’mon. This way.”
“Shit!” I jump and spin, lose my footing, but don’t go down because Garrett is right there to catch me. “You scared me.”
“Sorry,” he says with a frown.
“No. That’s okay. I wasn’t expecting you to be so close. That’s all.” His frown deepens and I rush to reassure him as I pull from his hold. “Honestly, it’s fine. So where are we going?”
“Upstairs.”
It’s the only explanation I get and a smile tugs at my lips. “Okay. Lead the way.” I even sweep out my arm in invitation.
With a shake of his head, he turns and heads for a set of stairs I hadn’t noticed. “What’s upstairs? Your office?”
“Home.”
The word has me stumbling a little as I rush to keep up with his long strides. “Home?”
He grunts.
My gaze rises to stare at the ceiling. “Youlivehere?”
“Yep.”
I’m not sure how I feel about his lack of words. On one hand, it’s refreshing to not have my ear talked off about things I don’t want to know, but on the other, I’d at least like to have a conversation.
