As they moved toward the building, he set his hand on the small of her back. The gentle pressure comforted her. At least she wasn’t in this alone. Before she knew it they were at the door.
Gunner held it open for her and she entered, pulse racing, mind spinning.
Could really use Your help here, God. Give me the words. Maybe don’t let him reject me? Okay. This is it. Over and out.
The smells of motor oil and rubber assaulted her nose as her gaze scanned the interior, stopping on a man bent over a car’s open hood. He wore a mechanic’s jumpsuit, but only his lower half was visible.
“Be right with you.” The metallic sounds of his work echoed throughout the open room.
She and Gunner stopped in the shop’s corner by an old metal desk and two plastic chairs that served as the office space. Despite the large glass garage door and the sun beating in, the place was adequately air-conditioned. Nonetheless, heat prickled beneath her arms.
“Breathe,” Gunner whispered.
She did seem to be holding her breath. She drew in a steady lungful of oxygen and released it, rehearsing what she might say. That’s when she remembered.
“I forgot to remove the sticker!” she whispered.
“What sticker?”
“The one that says I’m not due for an oil change for another two thousand miles.”
He placed his hand on her back again. “We’ll get it on the way out.”
Right. No big deal. Why did her heart seem to be stuttering in her chest? Her mouth was as dry as the Sahara, and no wonder since all the liquid in her body seemed to have pooled in her palms. She wiped them down the sides of her jeans.
A clatter of tools snagged her attention. The mechanic came out from under the hood. He was as tall as Gunner and stocky in the gray mechanic’s jumpsuit. He looked to be in his midfifties with swarthy skin. He had short gray hair and a slightly crooked nose, but it was his deep-set eyes that nearly made her gasp. They were Cooper’s, right down to the chocolate-brown hue and prominent brows.
It was definitely him. It was her father. Did Gunner see the resemblance? She couldn’t tear her gaze from the mechanic long enough to gauge his reaction.
“Help you?” The man neared, rubbing his hands on a dirty cloth. He wasn’t wearing a wedding band.
That was good. She wouldn’t have to take a wife’s feelings into account, so that would make her sudden appearance less complicated. If he even wanted anything to do with her.
The man lifted his brows.
“I have an appointment,” she blurted. “Um, for an oil change.”
He riffled through a paper schedule on the desk. Then peered up at her. “Simpson?”
She tried to read into his expression. He didn’t seem to recognize her surname, but it wasn’t an uncommon one. “Yes. It’s the beige Tahoe.”
He went through some basic questions about her preferencesregarding oil and services, jotting down her answers. “Should have it finished by noon tomorrow. Keys?”
She handed them over, then remembered her lines. “I, uh, usually get it serviced by Brooks over in Riverbend Gap. That’s where I live.”
His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “We appreciate your business.”
Her spirits plummeted and her mind went blank. She glanced at Gunner.
“We found you online. Your customer service ratings are good.”
The man perked up. “I’ll do a nice job for you. I’ve only been here about a year, but I’ve been working on cars all my life.”
“What got you interested?” Charlotte asked. “In cars, I mean.”
He shrugged. “Always liked tinkering around, seeing how things work. Turns out you can make a living at it.” He turned toward Gunner. “That your Harley Roadster outside?”
“It is.”
