Page 81 of Finding Storm

“Language at the dinner table,” Gran chides. “We have a guest.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Nick says, forking food into his mouth. “I’ve heard worse. And I’ll go to a beach cleanup with you,” Nick adds, glancing my way, shocking the hell out of me.

“You will?” I know my eyes are bugging and have just lit up like the Fourth of July.

“Sure. You let me know when the next one is, and I’ll be there.”

The possibility of spending more time with Nick in the future …

Wow. Just wow.

Though he probably doesn’t mean it. He’s probably just saying it to be kind.

And if that thought doesn’t make me deflate like a balloon.

So, I do what I always do when I feel like this. I throw out a jokey comment.

“And you’ll stop smoking as well?”

He huffs out a laugh. “I’ll promise to dispose of them responsibly.”

I teasingly roll my eyes. “Suppose it’ll do.”

“So, I had a quick look at your car before I left the garage,” Beck says to Nick, changing the subject.

I find my muscles locking up tight, bracing in anticipation of what Beck is going to say.

Because when Nick’s car is fixed, he’ll be leaving. He has no other reason to stay.

I’m not even going to address why that makes me feel like I’ve just accidentally squished a ladybug.

Yes, that actually happened. I was seven. I was on the trampoline we used to have in the garden. I was bouncing, having fun. I saw the ladybug but couldn’t stop myself from landing on her.

It was death by my butt.

I cried for a whole day. Dad even did a funeral for her for me. The cross Dad made out of Popsicle sticks is still there, next to Gran’s rose bushes.

“What’s the damage?” Nick takes a swig of beer.

“Still too early to tell. Diesel cars have stronger ancillary equipment because diesel is so much thicker and corrosive than gas. If I’d have been looking at gas in a diesel, piece of cake. Saying that, worse we’re looking at is a new fuel pump, possibly a new catalytic convertor. But I’ll go in early and flush out the diesel, change the filter, and run her through, see how she holds up.”

Is it bad that I’m praying for a new fuel pump and catalytic convertor?

“Just to give you a heads-up,” Beck continues, “if you need new parts, I’ll have to order them in. None of our local suppliers have Maserati parts. Could take a few days to get, a day to fit.”

“That’s fine. I’m in no rush.”

I glance at Nick, unable not to, and his eyes are on me.

I feel a jolt in my chest and heat between my legs.

Dragging my eyes from his, I grab my beer and take a swig.

Dad launches into a conversation about our local high school baseball team and their upcoming game. Beck used to play for them when he was in high school. Which then moves on to the Diamondbacks and their chances this season and Dad asking Nick which baseball team he supports.

I tune them out and talk to Gran instead about her day, and she fills me in on the gossip she picked up today while at the hairdresser.

Soon enough, dinner is over.