When I got to the shop the next day thirty minutes earlier than
usual, I told myself I was doing it because I had a lot of work to do.
Not because I was holding a grudge toward Rip.
And most definitely not because I’d had another bad dream including my dad that had me waking up sweating. I couldn’t remember exactly what had happened in it, only bits and pieces, but the dread and the nausea had been there. Live and present even after so long.
I had tossed and turned the rest of the night, trying to avoid the tiny bit of heartache I had felt because of it. Of how real it felt. Maybe because what I did recall was so similar to things that had really happened. The stupid-ass. Being called the wrong name. The drunkenness… That fear.
What the dream didn’t continue reminding me of was how I had grown up. Of how I’d gotten the hell out of there and gotten my sisters out too, the only way I’d known how.
Since that moment, that decision, I had clung onto every moment of happiness that I could.
So just like I had for the last going-on ten years, when I had felt more helpless than ever, I went to the one place that always took my mind off things I didn’t want to think about. I went to the shop.
I told myself that it worked in my favor because I hadn’t exactly had the most productive afternoon the day before thanks to the hours I’d spent fixing “my mistake.” Miguel had come over and helped me for about an hour, telling me all about how Rip had chewed him out for standing in his way.
But even with his help, I still hadn’t gotten enough done. It didn’t help that I had left work right at five o’clock. Rip hadn’t looked at me when I had walked by him with all of my things, but I had been ready.
Ready to pretend like I hadn’t heard a single word he might have said since he was going to pretend like I hadn’t called him to ask about the one thing he’d blown up at me over.
Ugh.
I couldn’t say my day had gotten better once I made it home.
My sister had been home, and that had been great, but the second I told her about the phone call I had gotten days ago—not that I admitted that part—it had gone downhill real quick. Specifically the part that involved me going to San Antonio had been like pouring gasoline on a small fire.
“Why are you doing this?” Lily had wailed. She had stood up the second I had mentioned the name of the city I’d be visiting for the first time in six years. “You know what they’re like!”
Of course I knew what they were like. How could I forget?
That conversation had spread wide and far to include a three-way call on speakerphone with our other two sisters, who had gotten tense and quiet as Lily ranted for fifteen minutes about how dumb it was for me to go.
I had a feeling they were all going to give me the cold shoulder for a while, even during the weekend when everyone came down for Lily’s graduation, but they weren’t going to change my mind. I knew the best thing I could do for my sanity was not to think about going in the first place so that I wouldn’t get more nervous or start second-guessing myself more than I already had. I needed to go. It was the right thing to do.
So, I knew going in that morning that I needed to zone out everything else and spend the day preparing the car for the Tropical Turquoise that was going to cover the pale grayish-blue it had been the day before. Then, eventually, I’d be spraying more color before topping it off with two coats of clear.
Hooray.
I hated making mistakes, even if what had happened hadn’t technically been one. I remembered Mack, the man who had taught me everything I knew, telling me once that I was too hard on myself when I didn’t do something right. Everyone makes mistakes, he had said, giving me a slap on the back. It isn’t the end of the world, Luna-girl.
And part of me was well aware of that. But the majority of me couldn’t let go of that mentality, no matter how old I got. Probably because I thought the whole thing was mostly Rip’s fault. I had called him. He hadn’t been paying attention, but it was still my fault.
Like it was always.
If I stopped at the drive-thru and bought a cup of coffee instead of making my own, it was only because I was in the mood for a white chocolate mocha instead of the same old thing I had every other morning. If my hands weren’t going to be as steady as they usually were… Oh well.
I was in the middle of working on the freaking Mustang in the big room right beside mine when I happened to look up and see a familiar face on the other side of the window of the door.
Rip.
Not wanting to mess up my flow so I could get to priming sooner than later, I turned my attention back and moved my arm along. I kept moving, finishing up the last section before I stopped.
If he needed something and didn’t want to wait, he could leave a note.
He knew better than to try and get me to stop in the middle of what I was doing. I didn’t want to screw up again, especially not in front of him.
When I was finally done, I left the sanding pad on the floor and pulled my hood down, my fingers snagging for a second on my headband as I made my way toward the door to open it.
“Morning,” I said, trying not to make it sound like a mutter as I peeled my goggles off and then tugged my respirator over my head. Most of the guys just wore masks, but I didn’t mess around with inhaling things that would come back and kill me later.
He blinked, and it was right then that I noticed he didn’t have his coveralls on. He had his gray compression shirt on, except this time it was underneath a tight black T-shirt that said COOPER’S COLLISION AND CUSTOMS in marigold yellow lettering. I’d forgotten today was an auction day. And even though I didn’t want or mean to, I flicked my gaze down to see he had on a pair of faded jeans that didn’t have any stains on them and boots that weren’t the same boots he wore to the shop all the time.
A small white paper bag hung from where it was being pinched at his side by his index finger and thumb.
I bit the inside of my cheek, remembering just how unfair he’d been yesterday.
Then I reminded myself he was my boss and even if he was wrong— and he was—I would have to be the one to eat shit unless I wanted to trade jobs.
And I didn’t want to do that.
“Luna,” he said in that deep voice that normally felt like a cold finger up my spine but today did nothing.
Okay, mostly nothing.
“Morning, boss,” I greeted him, my face straight.
Rip thrust the small white bag at me. “I’m not mad at you,” he said first thing, his voice calm, those teal-colored eyes locked on my face.
He wasn’t mad at me?
Like I had done something in the first place to get him angry?
I pressed my lips together and eyed the bag he was still holding between us.
Those eyes moved over my face, and something small moved across Ripley’s, almost… softening? Nicer? …Guilt? “It’s not the end of the fucking world, Luna.”
Of all the words….
“I can’t let you get away with things that I wouldn’t let the rest of the guys get away with,” he kept going, watching me closely with that face I wasn’t sure how to take from how serious it was. “Making me a birthday cake doesn’t get you a Get Out of Jail Free card.”
All I could do was stare at him and swallow his Monopoly reference. He gave the white bag a light shake, inching it even closer to me. “I brought you that donut shit you like. Take it. It’s the twist one,” he went
on, like I had no idea what my favorite donut was.
But the only person who didn’t have an idea of what was going on was him.
He’d brought me a donut?
Was this his way of apologizing for blaming me for something that wasn’t my fault?
Yeah. It was. It had to be.
It really was his way of apologizing.
A tiny little part of me wanted to hold a grudge….
But most grudges were a waste of time. They were a vortex where you lost time, energy, and happiness. Time, energy, and happiness you could apply toward something that was good, something that your whole life benefited from. Something that could actually make you happy.
And I wanted to be happy more than I wanted to be right.
Which was why I only really held onto big grudges, and I rarely let myself think of them. Usually.
I eyed Rip one more time then glanced down at the bag… and then I sighed.
I was going to choose, maybe not necessarily being happy, but not being mad. Ripley wouldn’t be the first person to blame me for things they had caused. If anything, he might be one of many, but he was one of the few to ever apologize… in his own way.
That was worth something. More than something really. And if I really thought about it, I might have appreciated the effort it took to even do as much as he just had. Hadn’t I just avoided telling my sisters that I’d known something for days because I didn’t want them to get madder at me than they already were?
I didn’t want to be a hypocrite.
I bit the inside of my cheek and said, “Thank you,” even though it sounded like more of a question.
He tipped his chin down once and only once, his eyes narrowing like he could read my mind.
He didn’t say he was sorry for bitching me out—for no reason—but he’d brought me a donut. My favorite. I hadn’t figured he’d paid enough attention to know something like that.
I reached over slowly, like he was going to change his mind and jerk it away at the last minute as I took the bag from him, watching his face as he did the same in return to me, looking for who knows what. To make sure I didn’t quit? To make sure I didn’t cry?
I’d barely taken it when he asked, “How busy are you today?”
It was hard not to think that was a trick question; he knew I had an entire car to prime and paint on top of trying to catch up on things so that I wouldn’t fall behind since I was taking a day off to go to San Antonio. “Pretty busy.”
His eyes slid around the room for a moment before he dipped his chin down in a way that seemed like it was more for himself than me. “Finish what you’re working on and meet me outside.”
“Why?”
He still didn’t look at me. “There’s an auction going on. You’re coming with me.”
What? “But—“
“Hurry up. It starts in an hour,” he stated, taking a step back and finally making direct eye contact again. His face was smooth. No hint of frustration or tightness on it at all, and I wasn’t sure what to think of that.
“I have to do the car that you—”
Those bright eyes landed on me, and his eyebrows went up a quarter of an inch. “It can wait.”
Now it could wait?
“But”—why did he want me to go in the first place?—“Mr. Cooper goes with you.”
On the rare occasion that I did go, it had been with Mr. Cooper, but the last time I’d gone with him had been… three years ago? Four years ago? Maybe longer? When I’d first started trying to learn things about cars, he would take me all the time and point at things, explaining everything he could think of and everything I was curious about. I’d enjoyed it a lot. I would have never guessed just how much it would have interested me.
But since taking over the lead painter position, I had other things to do instead.
“He’s not coming in today. You’re up.”
I reached up to flick at one of the heart-shaped fake ruby earrings I’d put on that morning with the tip of my index finger. “But—”
Rip’s eyes strayed to the side of my face for a moment before focusing again. “Everything can wait. I’ll meet you by my truck.”
He was being serious about me going with him. “But…,” I mumbled, trailing off, because I wasn’t sure what other argument to give him for why I should stay.
Other than him taking his crap out on me the day before, there was no reason I should want to stay and work. Who would say no to taking a few hours off? Me, apparently, and I wasn’t even sure I knew why I was totally fighting it other than just being a tiny bit resentful over how he’d been. Sure, I was going to forgive him and get over it, but I wasn’t a robot. I couldn’t just turn my feelings on and off. I needed at least ten minutes.
“I’ll deal with it if you fall behind. Let’s go,” he stated in that voice that was somewhere between patient and not.
He took another step back and then turned around to head toward the door, calling out over his shoulder, “You can eat that in my truck. Let’s go.”
Eat—
He was really being serious. He wanted me to go with him.
The door shut just as I stood there and glanced at the bag in my hand. I sighed again.
It didn’t take me long at all to walk back to my room, strip out of my protective suit and grab my purse. I doubted I’d need it, but I’d watched an episode of a show once of someone who was in a wreck, died and couldn’t be identified, so now I didn’t like not having my ID with me at all times. That and my paint-specked leggings didn’t have pockets to put
my cell phone in. Then I headed out of the room and made my way toward the parking lot, kicking the door to the shop closed behind me.
Rip was already waiting inside his truck, chin high while he relaxed against the headrest. His lips were moving just enough so that I knew he was either talking to himself… or lip-synching along to whatever was playing on the radio.
Some part of me knew he was singing along.
I wasn’t going to think it was adorable. Nope. Not when he’d been so strange and on edge the last few days. Not when he’d been unfair over something that hadn’t been all my fault. It wasn’t going to happen.
…but it was happening.
I managed to keep the smile on my face, one hand holding my purse, the other holding my donut, and watched as Rip’s head turned to look at me as I walked toward his truck. Before I was there, he reached over and opened it for me from the inside, pushing the door open. I climbed in, careful not to scratch the leather or do anything else that would screw up the completely restored interior.
“I tried to go as fast as I could,” I told him as I set my purse on the floor and reached for the seat belt.
He put the truck into drive. “I’ve only been out here a minute.”
I shot him a look out of the corner of my eye as I closed the door and finally set the small white bag on my lap, wondering once again why he wanted me to go with him.
And where was Mr. Cooper?
I waited until he’d pulled the truck through the gate that was connected to the fence that went the entire way around the building before I asked, “Do you mind if I make a quick call?”
The only answer I got was a shake of his head.
I bent over and pulled my phone out of my purse, going straight to my favorites and looking for one of the only two men’s names I had saved under my favorites.
The line only rang twice before a familiar voice picked up. “Little moon,” Mr. Cooper answered, sounding totally normal, totally fine.
“Hey, Mister C,” I replied.
“I meant to call you last night. Miguel texted me over happened with Rip”—I shifted my eyes to the side to make sure that someone wasn’t listening. If he was, his face didn’t register any signs that he’d overhead Mr. Cooper talking about him—“but Lydia came home and it slipped my mind.”
“It’s okay,” I said before he could keep going. “Everything is all right.”
The sigh he let out told me he didn’t agree with me, and that warmed my heart.
“I was calling to tell you that I’m going with Rip to the auction today.”
Silence.
I slid my gaze back to Rip and found the cheek closest to me doing this weird twitch thing.
“I don’t know how long we’ll be gone, but I just wanted to let you know in case anyone calls to ask you where I’m at. He said you weren’t coming to the shop today.”
There was another beat of silence. Then, “Okay. Sure.” Another moment of silence. “That’s good, Luna.”
“Are you okay?”
More quiet, then, “I have a doctor’s appointment. I’ll be in tomorrow.”
A doctor’s appointment? “Are you having problems with your blood pressure again?”
The hum he made in response was 1000 percent fake. It was his way of not wanting to lie but not wanting to say the truth either.
“That’s what I thought,” I mumbled. “Good luck with your appointment then and let me know how it goes.” I paused. “Don’t forget to tell the doctor about how you’ve been sneaking sandwich meat and frozen pizza at work when you think no one is looking.”
I hung up after Mr. Cooper started chuckling and eventually got out that he’d see me on Friday.
But seriously, I hoped he’d tell his doctor about the snacks we both knew he had no business eating. I had done what I could by throwing stuff away when I found it. Slipping my phone back inside my purse, I sat back up and settled my hands on my thighs, glancing at Rip out of the corner of my eye.
“I could’ve told you he had a doctor’s appointment,” he claimed, steering the truck into a left-hand lane.
I couldn’t help but bite the inside of my cheek and make a face. He could’ve told me? “I wasn’t sure you knew.” Honestly, I wasn’t sure he would have cared enough to know or ask. Then again, based on the things I had overheard, Rip would probably ask Mr. Cooper to bring in a doctor’s note to prove he’d actually done what he’d said he would.
But that wasn’t supposed to be any of my business.
Neither one of us said anything for a while. I looked out my window and sometimes glanced at Rip but really spent the whole time telling my body to relax. I wasn’t going to hold this grudge against him when he had sort-of, kind-of apologized, at least apologized more than anyone else in my life usually had or did. I’d forgiven people for doing worse. There was something going on with him that I didn’t entirely understand, but I could be patient. I could be understanding. Some people just had to work things out on their own.
Most importantly, I needed to remember—and accept—that he was my boss. As much as I might try, as much as I might sometimes wish in the back of my mind, in the deepest, most secretive corner of my soul, that was all there was ever going to be. We weren’t friends, and he had no interest in being nice or polite or being kind.
He was fine not being anyone’s favorite. It wasn’t what he wanted. It wasn’t what he was ever going to want.
My heart ached for a moment as I sat there, thinking for a second about that thought. About how I’d spent the last three years eyeballing and thinking a little too much about someone who I had no chance with. It was just… admiration. Serious admiration.
But maybe instead of daydreaming about that Louie Vuitton purse I would realistically never save up to buy, I could go to the outlet and get a beautiful purse for a tenth of the price. It would do everything the other one did. The only difference was, it would be within my reach. I could afford it.
It wouldn’t need to be a dream. It wasn’t like I believed in them in the first place.
“You gonna eat that donut today?” Rip asked out of nowhere.
I glanced over at him. Was he trying to make a joke? Nothing about his face looked particularly amused or playful but… “Yes.”
“You’re not on a diet, right?” he asked as he steered us onto the freeway. I didn’t even know where the hell we were going.
If he would have been anyone else—and if my previous thoughts hadn’t been about Rip and his lack of friendships—I would have laughed. Instead, I barely managed not to smirk. “No.”
I mean, I wasn’t as thin as I used to be back when I’d been a teenager. I also worked too much—and was too lazy—to hit the gym five days a week… but I tried my best. I ate decent, some days I ate better than decent, but mostly, I was never going to say no to a donut. Or a slice of cherry pie.
But especially not my favorite donut.
“There a reason you haven’t eaten it then?”
I touched the tips of my fingers along the top of the bag, which had been rolled down. “I figure I could eat it at the auction. I didn’t want to make a mess in your car.”
Those eyes flicked in my direction. “You won’t.”
“But I don’t want to take a chance.” I didn’t need to look around to see that the inside was immaculately clean. He kept the outside beautifully detailed constantly. Even his office was pretty spotless.
“It’s just a truck. If there are crumbs, we have vacuums,” was his argument in that cool, laidback voice.
That wasn’t at all what I was expecting him to come back with. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure, Luna. Eat your fucking donut. I didn’t buy it for you to look at.”
I mean, if he was going to insist.
I unrolled the top of the bag and stuck my hand in to pull out my treat. My treat that my boss had bought me. Because he might have felt a little bad. I thought. Maybe.
Which he should.
Leaning forward, I grabbed my phone out of my purse and hit the camera icon. Glancing at Rip, I noticed he was still looking forward. I took a picture of the donut, attached it to a text message then shoved my phone under my thigh.
“Didn’t know you were one of those people that took pictures of their food,” he said quietly.
Those people. I pressed my lips together to keep from smiling.
“My little sister really likes these,” I found myself explaining, still trying not to smile. “I’m just rubbing it in her face.”
He took so long responding, I didn’t expect it when the question out of his mouth was, “All three of them are younger than you, yeah?”
I wasn’t even sure how he knew I had three in the first place.
“Yeah, three. My baby sister, the one I sent the picture to, will be eighteen in a few weeks. She’s a senior in high school,” I told him, bringing the donut up to my face and taking a bite, just barely holding back a moan at how good it was. “The other two are nineteen and twenty-one, but they don’t live with me anymore.”
The only thing he did to acknowledge that he’d been listening was nod, and I didn’t feel like offering up any more information that he probably didn’t care much about.
He still didn’t say a word as I ate the rest of it, ignoring how that much sugar made my stomach hurt, but too freaking bad.
Just as I was about to take the second to last bite, I paused. “You want a piece?”
There was a huff that had me turning my neck to look at him. The only side of his face I could see was tilted up. “I’m good.”
I finished off the rest of it before he could change his mind. I was in the middle of licking my fingers clean when Rip spoke up again.
“What time you want to leave tomorrow?”
I almost gulped, but doing that would have been a hint of how much I was dreading the trip, and I didn’t want to give him a reason not to go with me. “The service is at eleven. Is seven-thirty fine?”
There was no hesitation at least verbally, but from where I was sitting I could see the way his cheek flexed, and it only confirmed that I didn’t want to make him think twice about agreeing. “Works for me. I’ll pick you up,” he offered.
“Okay.”
Perfect. Just perfect.
I didn’t want to go. God, I didn’t want to go.
But I was and that wasn’t going to change, so I needed to live with it and accept it. There was no point in ruining the day dreading the inevitable. So, I changed the subject and kept my voice bright. “So, is there anything specific you’re looking to buy today?”
It was the right question to ask.
And if listening to him talk wasn’t a hardship, it was only because he had a nice voice.
I’d lost him.
Crap!
Rip and I had split up half an hour ago. We’d gotten to the auction early enough to really get a good look around at all the cars that were parked in the junkyard’s lot. I’d never been to this particular one before, but I’d heard all about Rip and Mr. Cooper sometimes scoring some really great deals here. This auction only happened once every other month; on some visits, they didn’t buy anything. It was one of the smallest auctions on this side of the state. A couple times a year, one of
the two men would go to the bigger sales that took place in other cities along the southwest.
Fortunately, I’d found two cars that hit almost all the criteria Rip had given me on the way over. One of them had a little more rust on it than I would have liked, but it was still in better shape than a few of the cars that he’d bought in the past. The other one was great though, but I’d spotted a couple other guys from restoration shops I was familiar with eyeing it too. We all made a point not to make eye contact with each other, so I knew they were serious about it. It wasn’t exactly going to be a steal, but it would have been worth it.
And now the auction was set to start in… a few minutes, and I had no clue where he was. I had tried calling his cell, but he hadn’t answered. I remembered seeing him leave his phone in the pickup. Reaching up to the tips of my toes, I looked over the lot, trying to ignore all the blonds and the men with black hair, looking for the one with the perfect shade of mostly mahogany brown.
I’d already had one man stop and ask if there was something he could help me with. I really doubted he believed me when I told him I was looking for my boss. Turning around to face the end of the lot that I’d walked around for the last almost hour, I stretched my chin up as high as I could. Looking, looking, looking…
Bingo.
Taller than everyone else, bigger than everyone else, and wearing that tight shirt that should have been too hot to wear in Houston, but I’d bet it was one meant for the heat, I spotted Rip.
He had his hands on his hips while he talked to another man two or three inches shorter than him.
I wasn’t sure why it surprised me that he knew people, much less that he seemed to be having a conversation with someone, but it did. It wasn’t like he didn’t talk, but usually he was talking at people rather than with them. Keeping my gaze on him so I wouldn’t lose him again, I started making my way over.
I took in the other man. He looked about Rip’s age, if not a little older and leaner. But it was the tattoo he had on one side of his neck that had me focusing.
I glanced at Rip, then back at his friend, and kept my gaze there. Tattoos poured down the man’s arms in thick, black marks that were really hard to distinguish, but something about them….
The man shook his head at Rip, but his body stayed relaxed. But Rip… Rip was looking around by that point. For me?
“Ladies and gentlemen, the auction will begin in five minutes. I repeat in fiveeee minutes,” a voice crackled over the speakers that the auction had set up right by a makeshift podium.
Shit.
I raised my hand over my head and waved it. “Rip!” I yelled.
His head snapped to the left before slowly moving to the side more, like he was looking for me.
I waved some more, feeling bad for interrupting him but knowing I needed to show him what I thought he would want to see before time ran out. That was why he’d brought me over, wasn’t it? Screw it. I headed over, weaving through the small crowd as fast as I could. It didn’t take me long at all to make it a few feet away from where Rip and the other man were still standing. I waved my hand as far over my head as possible. “Boss-man!”
He must have seen me because he dipped his chin, his eyes covered with sunglasses, in my direction. But his mouth began moving. Fast.
But not quickly enough before I was at his side, sharing a smile between him and his friend. His friend who was looking at me with a surprised but curious expression on his face while Rip ended what he’d been saying with a “see you later” that was all clipped.
And before I could get out a word, my boss slapped his palm against the other man’s and turned toward me.
Okay.
He didn’t want me to meet his friend. That was fine. Sure.
He was my boss. There was no reason for me to meet his friend.
The other man let out a snort before shrugging and turning on his heel to go who knows where.
The smile I gave Rip was genuine. He was my boss and he owed me nothing but a paycheck for the hours I worked. “I’m sorry I yelled and came over, but I wanted you to see these two cars before the auction started,” I told him, not letting curiosity get the better of me.
There was something off about his facial expression. “What’d you find?” he asked, sounding totally normal, or as normal as ever. Not giving me a single hint who the other man had been, but why would he?
I hooked my thumb over my shoulder to aim it in the direction of where I’d found the goods. “There’s rust on both of them, but nothing worse than what you’ve gotten before. Let me show you, boss man. I think with a little TLC, they’d look really nice.”
His eyes seemed to sweep over my face and head, and I didn’t miss the way he positioned his body to block me from seeing the man he had
been talking to. He said, “Show me.”
I did, and I was pretty proud of myself when he ended up winning both.
