Our Now and Forever(21)

Was every man trying to make her life more difficult?

“Fine,” Snow snapped. “I’ll see you at the store this afternoon.”

As she reached the entrance to the dining room, Spencer called, “Snow?” She turned with a huff as he said, “That guy isn’t giving you up without a fight. Good luck getting rid of him.”

Feeling more fragile than she had in months, Snow said, “Ignore the possessive act. Caleb doesn’t love me.”

“You could have fooled me,” Spencer replied.





Chapter 7




Considering her low opinion of him, Caleb was starting to wonder if he would ever win Snow back. And since when did having money make you an automatic asshole? Their relationship had been all but perfect until she disappeared, or so he’d thought. Clearly he’d been wrong. Something happened during those two months in Baton Rouge, and he was going to have to figure out what if this was ever going to work.

In addition to getting to know her, he’d have to either read Snow’s mind or coax the truth out of her, neither of which he had any inkling how to do.

So he focused on something he could understand, which was the prize in front of him. As he eyed the pickup that should be his, he tried to be a good sport. He couldn’t have started on the truck until this situation with Snow was resolved and they were back in Louisiana. And he doubted Uncle Frazier would wait for him. Then again, he could probably park it somewhere locally until they were ready to go home. Maybe the old woman who owned the house would let him rent one of the garage stalls. There likely wasn’t anything in there, anyway.

All of this was giving Caleb an idea. Snow hadn’t wanted him to deprive this Cooper person of the truck by outbidding him. But that didn’t mean Caleb couldn’t buy the truck from him outright, especially if the guy got significantly more than he paid for it.

“Hey there,” Caleb called to the man with half his body tucked into the engine area of the old pickup. “She’s a beauty.”

The new owner’s head popped up to look down at Caleb. “Not yet she isn’t, but she will be.” The man’s green eyes glittered with glee at his new toy. Caleb knew that look meant trouble. This wasn’t going to be easy.

Still. Everyone had a price. That was Jackson McGraw’s number one lesson in life.

“It’s going to take some serious cash to get her into shape.” Caleb used the back tire of the hauler to join his adversary on the flatbed. A glimpse through the passenger window revealed tears in the bench seat, but the emblem was intact on the large steering wheel, and the dash looked good.

“Time and money,” the stranger said, wiping his hands on a stained rag he’d pulled from his back pocket. “I think I can handle it.” The man had Caleb by a couple of inches in height, but they were roughly the same size otherwise. Though the grease stains under his opponent’s nails said Snow wasn’t exaggerating about Cooper’s love of cars.

Caleb was dealing with a true gearhead. The situation grew bleaker by the moment.

Cutting to the chase, Caleb said, “I could take her off your hands right now. Save you the hassle.”

Closing the hood, Cooper said, “I appreciate the offer, but no thanks.” In a surprise move, he then extended his hand. “Cooper Ridgeway. I own the garage in town, and I admire a man who knows a prize when he sees it. Not everyone would recognize the potential in a piece like this.”

Accepting the handshake, Caleb conceded the battle. “It was worth a shot,” he said. “I’m Caleb McGraw, and I’m really pissed right now that I let this baby get away.”

“You a friend of Snow’s?” Cooper asked.

“I am,” Caleb answered, resenting the lie he was about to tell. “She’s my fiancée.”

Cooper’s brows shot up. “Fiancée? That’s news.”

“I’m sure it will be.” No one had approached them since they’d arrived at the auction, but Caleb had caught the curious looks. “I got in last night. It’s been a long-distance thing.”

“Congrats,” Cooper said. “So you restore cars?”

“Not for a while,” Caleb answered, happy to be back on safe ground. “Bought my ’85 Jeep seven years ago and brought her back to life. My uncle is the real enthusiast. I’ve helped him with a ’55 Bel Air and a ’67 Stingray.”

“Nice. You should come by the garage sometime. I’ve got a ’62 Thunderbird hardtop that’ll make your mouth water.”

Caleb nodded. “I’d love to see it.”

Cooper jumped off the hauler, and Caleb followed suit. Cooper asked, “You looking for a job?”