Mia comes out from behind the counter. “Nice to meet you both.” She crouches down. “I’m Mia.”
Amelia smiles. “That’s sort of like my name.”
“Yes, I suppose it is. I love your pretty red hair, Amelia.”
Amelia shoots me a wrinkled-nose glance. “He called it orange, like a pumpkin.”
Mia laughs. “My brother is obviously color blind. It’s definitely red. And it’s gorgeous.”
“Brother?” Kenna asks. “You’re a Cruz, too?”
Before Mia can answer, Dax bursts through the service-bay door. Without looking up, he adjusts himself and grouses, “We need to turn the damn heaters up in there. My balls are freezing.”
I clear my throat, loudly.
Dax stops walking when he sees Kenna and Amelia. “Ah, jeez. Sorry.”
“Brother,” I scold, shaking my head. “Try reading the room next time.”
At least he has the good sense to look sheepish as he takes in the scene.
Kenna cocks her head. “Just how many of you are there?”
I laugh. “Family-owned. There are four of us. This knucklehead is Dax. He and Mia are twins. Lincoln is around here somewhere too.”
“Mommy.” Amelia tugs on Kenna’s coat sleeve. “I wanna play the PlayStation.”
I motion to the lounge area. “Right this way, pumpkin.”
Amelia’s hands land on her hips like a defiant teen. “My hair isred,” she reminds me, complete with an adorable foot stomp.
“But your coat is orange, so it still applies.”
She looks down at her coat then back at me. “What would you call me if my coat was blue?”
I shrug as I get the game console out of the cabinet and search for an age-appropriate cartridge. “Pumpkin.”
She looks like she might want to argue, but at the same time, the corners of her mouth give her away as they turn up slightly.
I turn on the TV and hand her a controller. “Have you ever played this one?”
Her eyes widen and her head nods over and over. “It’s my favorite. Ms. Kinney always played it with me. Will you play it?”
“Maybe later. Right now, I have to go look at your car to see about getting it fixed.” I turn to Kenna, who’s situated herself on the couch. “Can I get you anything?”
“I’m good. Thank you. You’ve done so much already.”
She offers me a tired but appreciative smile as she shrugs her coat off, and I can hardly tear my eyes away. I’m not sure why. She’s not wearing anything special. There’s no cleavage showing. No skin-tight sweater. Just what looks like an old, comfortable NYU sweatshirt and a pair of faded jeans.
I’m poked in the ribs, and when I turn to glare at whoever’s needling me, Mia raises her eyebrows. “Weren’t you just saying you needed to go look at their car?”
“Oh, uh, yeah.” I shake my head, hoping Kenna didn’t realize I was staring.
On my way out, I hear Mia say, “You’re not from around here.”
I stop at the back door and listen for a moment.
“The city actually,” Kenna says. “But we were in the process of moving.”
