To think about Lincoln Castro is one thing. But it’s not like I’m accepting coffee dates, crooking my finger to bring him closer, or sashaying around in front of the handsome stranger.
“How’s it going, Nova?” Aaron Dixon himself crosses the rocky lot, a grease-stained rag dangling from his front pocket and a dusty ball cap perched atop his head, sitting just a fraction of an inch askew.
He’s a third-generation car salesman, only a year older than me, and not one to shy away from a goofy smile or cheesy pickup line. The fact that my mom used to babysit him back when we were young, though, makes it difficult to take him seriously.
I’ve seen him cry. And one time, he wet his pants and screamed for me and Ry not to look.
“You interested in this one, huh?” He grips a toothpick between his teeth, a pleasant change from the cigarettes his father and grandfather typically suck on. Setting his elbow on the truck’s doorframe, he kicks one ankle over the other and smirks like he thinks it’s sexy. “Two-thousand and fourteen GMC Sierra. V8 engine, four-by-four drivetrain, and only ninety-five thousand miles.” He flicks the toothpick with his tongue. “Quite a steal at only twenty grand.”
“Not this one.” I wander away, knowing he’ll scramble to keep up like the puppy he is. “Too much money, too many miles, and we both know Bobby Bays thrashed the motor last year before he traded it in.”
“Well…”Busted. At least he has the good manners to blush a little. “Sure. But we give every vehicle a complete mechanical check over before we put it on the lot. And you get six months after purchase to bring it back if it craps out. What about this one?” He stops by a blue Cadillac. “It’s barely ten years old. Two-liter engine, all-wheel drive, leather seats, and only twelve grand neat.”
“Mmm.” I look the car over and consider its immaculate exterior. The beauty of living in a town where everyone knows everyone else is that I know for sure Mabel McIntyre drove this since the day it came off the production line. It’s got eighty-something thousand miles on it, but they were all put there by a little old lady whose most exciting weekly adventure was bingo. “Maybe. What about that RAM?” I cast my eyes across the lot and stop on the sparkling black truck, priced far lower than it probably should be. “What’s wrong with it?”
“Wrong?” Aaron’s lips fold into a line, and his shoulders come up in a shrug. “Why would there be anything wrong with it?”
“Because all the ones I saw online are going for around eighteen thousand. Why’s that one only eleven?”
He leans in with devious, dancing eyes. “Because I really want it, but Daddy said it had to go on the lot first. If it’s still here after a month,thenI can pay the ticket price.”
I pull back, so I don’t have to smell the candy on his breath. “But, making it too cheap would make it sell faster, don’t you think?”
“It’s a gamble. If it doesn’t sell at that price, then I get it for a steal. And if it does, then I guess—” He looks me up and down the way he’s tried since high school. “I won’t cry if it goes to you, Miss Nova. Can I drive it sometime?”
“Nova?”
Startled, I spin toward a deep baritone voice I’ve grown entirely too used to in a ridiculously small amount of time. Skidding on the small pebbles beneath my feet, I bring my gaze up and stop on Lincoln’s curious stare. His chin is covered in more stubble today than the last two, but as he pulls his sunglasses up and reveals rested eyes, my heart gives an annoying little jump.
Before I can formulate a single witty thought, Aaron steps forward and attempts to sling his arm over my shoulders.
So, I jam my elbow into his ribs and change his mind.
No, thank you, Pee-Pants Dixon.
“A more cynical man might wonder if you’re following him,” Lincoln teases, hanging his glasses off the front of his shirt and setting his hands on his hips. “First the bank, now the car lot?”
“Funny,” I drawl. “I could say the same about you. Last I checked, you’re looking for a house loan. A new car isn’t really in your budget.”
He grins, his chest bouncing with silent laughter. The fact I notice his chest at all irritates me. “My budgethasto stretch far enough for a car, because I’m currently driving a loaner, and its daily fees cost almost as much as my monthly rent. It’s like burning money.” He glances over my shoulder, tipping his chin toward the workshop. “That black RAM caught my eye.”
“No way.” I spin on my heels and stalk toward my new truck like my ass is on fire. “I was looking at this one, and until I’ve decided, it’s not available for your inspection.”
Rocks crackle underneath Lincoln and Aaron’s feet. But I don’t turn to watch their approach until I’m already at the driver’s side door, pulling it open and tugging on the latch for the hood to release. “Aaron,” I meet my friend’s eyes, “you don’t get to sell this out from under me.”
“Sounds like we’ve got ourselves an auction.” He rolls onto the backs of his heels and beams. “Highest bidder walks away with my truck. Which’ll make me sad. But the commission I’ll make off you suckers sure will cheer me up again. And, as an added bonus, I’ll get a front row show of Nova Nichols throwing a tantrum the way I haven’t seen in a while.”
“I don’t throw tantrums.” I come around to the hood and push it high, yanking up the stand so the heavy steel won’t smack the back of my head and trap me while I’m inspecting…things. Like, oil and stuff.I know what I’m looking at.“Don’t make me tell Lincoln about that time in my backyard.”
Quick as a flash, Aaron’s hands cover his crotch, his mouth snapping closed with a yelp.
That’s what I thought.
“Pick a different truck to buy, Lincoln.” I show him the smile that usually gets me the things I want. “But could you come on over here and help me?”
Amused, he saunters across and sets his arms on the top of the engine bay. “Help you how?”
“With the motor and stuff.” I pull the dipstick out like I truly believe I’m some kind of pro. “You and Ry worked together, right? Means you know engines.”
