At the Stars(4)

The big guy hikes up his pants. “Now, I’m not sure where you learned all about cars, sweetheart—”

Gross. Seriously, stop calling me that!

“But I suggest—”

“Hey, Bart. I’ll take this one.”

Tall and Dark from the night before is coming over, wearing exactly the same outfit as the pig-like man, but wearing it sooo much better. In the light of day he looks like something out of a nineties music video: Tattooed forearms, pectoral-worshipping shirt, and an eensy smudge of grease on his cheek that makes him look endearing rather than dirty.

His nametag says “Jake.” Jake. It’s a nice name.

In spite of the dressing down he gave me last night, I couldn’t be more relieved to see a familiar face. Anything to get away from the red-haired giant with his sagging pants and leering looks. I half want to give my surly rescuer a hug.

Creepy Red shoots us a glare and walks away, throwing more venomous eye-jabs over his shoulder as he goes.

My new frenemy braces his hands on the counter, making his arms pop with muscle. I remind myself that even though he’s got a handsome face—and now that I can see him in the light of day, I have to acknowledge those blue eyes, full lips, and dimpled chin are something else—he could still be a creeper. After all, he’d referred me to a garage full of lying liars where he happened to also work. Then again, if he had wanted to do something awful, he probably would have done something last night when he had me isolated and soaking wet.

Jeez. “Look,” I said. “I checked on my phone and there’s another shop eight miles down the road. I appreciate your help, but I can try there—”

“Listen.” He rubs at his face and makes the grease smear bigger. I kinda want to reach over and wipe it off. “TM Goodson down the road is fine. Thing is, you’re going to wind up paying money for a tow to get exactly the same answer.”

I’m on my own now. If anybody’s going to stand up and make sure I get treated fairly, it’s me. So I lean over the counter and give him my best bitch face. “Or maybe I look like some stupid college student who’s got Daddy paying all the bills and you think you can fleece me for everything that could possibly be ripped out of an eighties Volvo? I’m not though, and you’d only be stuck with a bill nobody can pay while I sneak out of town on the first bus, so you’re wasting your time.”

He gives me a megawatt grin that makes me wonder if he’s used to getting his way. I think if I was the kind of girl to be swayed by a grin, I might need to grab something for support. “The nearest bus station to get out of town is fifteen miles away.”

Damn. “My point remains the same.”

He slaps his hands on the counter. “Why don’t you let me take a look? I want to be sure Bart’s right before I tell you definitely that you need a replacement engine. I won’t charge you for the diagnosis. Least then you’ll know what you’re looking at in terms of damage.”

I hate to come right out and ask what the catch is, but I sure as hell don’t trust him or those dimples he’s flashing. So few people do something for nothing. “Why?”

There. I asked.

He looks down with a shake of his head, and when he looks up it’s through a fringe of lashes that makes me wonder why I bother buying mascara. “Is this how you usually react to people when they try to help?”

His face changes then, from something friendly and flirty to something more serious and sad. It grabs me, that look on his face. He’s trying to bust on me for being mistrusting, but it seems like it honestly bothers him that I’m leery of his intentions.

I still shouldn’t trust him. He’s still a relative stranger, after all. But I want to be able to, because I hate his lost look. Because I hate not trusting anyone.

I know that look. It makes me think of the hollowness I carry around inside me all the time. Since Mom died. Since probably before. I don’t actually know if I remember a time when it wasn’t there. What I do know is I’d give just about anything for it to go away.

“Okay.” I slide my car key across the counter. I don’t know why I pull it off my key ring. What other keys do I have that I’d need to worry about keeping? I’m never going back to my old house or my dorm. My storage space is empty. “You’ll call when you have an estimate?”

Jake nods. His grin comes back out, like the sun returning after a rainstorm. “This your number?” The pen in his hand taps a form I’d already filled out.

“Yeah.” I lean over to check that I’d written it down correctly. I got a new phone before I moved, and I haven’t totally memorized the number. “Um. Yeah. Thanks.”