“What’s the verdict?” I asked.
“Don’t see anything weird under the hood, so I’m going to assume it’s your O-rings and push rods.”
“Push rods? Are you making that up?”
He briefly flashed me his dimples while wiping his hands on a shop towel. “I’d need to get into the engine, and to do that, I’d need to bring some tools—a jack, car stands—so I can get under to work. I can borrow those from the marina.”
“Seb.”
“No, I mean on the up-and-up. Mr. Neely’s cool. I’ll also need a few things from the auto shop, but it shouldn’t cost more than fifty bucks, maybe? If you’ve got that.”
I nodded. “How long will it take?”
“A few hours. I’m off again day after tomorrow. I can get the supplies and swing by here in the morning. Maybe we can put our heads together and figure out the new cipher then, too.”
“Yeah, that sounds really good.” I crossed my arms, looking at the car.
“How’s the ankle?”
I glanced down at the Ace bandage. “Stiff and sore. I took some Tylenol.”
He whistled. “Let’s not go nuts, okay?”
I stuck out my tongue at him, and after he chuckled, I cleared my throat. “So, um, hey. Thank you for helping with the car. And also for diving into the hole back at the cave. You literally saved my life.”
He waved a hand dismissively. “You would’ve freed yourself.”
“No,” I whispered, shaking my head. “I don’t think I would have.”
Seb scrubbed the back of his neck. “Of course I jumped in. It was you.”
Seb’s gaze met mine, and we looked at each other for... far too long. Long enough for big emotions to rise from the battlefield of my heart, which held tenderness for an old friend and an equal amount of hurt for how he treated me when he left the Wags.
And behind all that, another feeling blossomed. Something that I didn’t want to feel, because it had disappointed me my entire life.
Hope.
Seb finally looked away and dug out his phone when it dinged. “I hate to run off, but this thing has been blowing up since I came out to the garage. I gotta take care of something.”
“Your dad?”
He shook his head. “Sort of wish it was. Which is saying a lot.” Pocketing his phone, he gave me a tight smile. No dimples. He was stressed. Was it Pretty Paul Vanderburg calling Seb backfor another pseudo-macho bonfire fight? Or something worse? Whatever it was, the rigid way Seb held his body made it clear that he was in no mood to discuss it with me. “Anyway, I’ll come in the morning on Wednesday. If you need a ride anywhere before then, give me a ring.”
“I don’t have your number.”
“That’s right,” he said. “Here, swap. I’ll put mine in if you put in yours.”
It sounded like a joke, but he seemed distracted, so I didn’t comment. We exchanged phones and typed our numbers into our contacts.
Then he strolled out of the garage, whistling loudly for his dog as he opened a gate in the fence. Punkin came running and jumped in the Bronco along with him. “See you on Wednesday, Malone,” he called out from his open window before starting up the engine.
I stepped onto the front drive to watch him leave. At the last moment, when he shifted the Bronco in reverse, and Punkin was hanging out the passenger window, I called out, “Bring that dumb dog of yours again when you come back on Wednesday. She can stay here if she doesn’t cause me any headaches. I mean, I don’t know about overnight, but if you need to bring her here while you work, or whatever...”
He cocked his head to one side. “For real?”
“If you’re going to rescue a dog, do it properly—don’t take it back to the rescue, for the love of Pete.” I scrunched up my face in the bright midday sunlight. “But she’s absolutely not allowed on my bed.”
“Perish the thought. I’ll give her a stern talking to,” he said,strapping on his seat belt. “She won’t put a single paw inside your room.”
