The Mechanic - Vanessa Waltz Page 0,3

screen. The parking lot echoes with my scream of frustration. The thought of asking him to borrow a phone to call another tow truck to take me thirty miles away from this jackass is too much to bear.

Soft laughter chimes behind my right ear, and I spin around. Gage is still there. Still shirtless and streaked with sweat and oil. And I want to slap him.

“I guess you’re stuck with me.”

Fucking great. “I need to borrow a phone.”

“No, you don’t. I’ve changed my mind,” he says. “I’ll help you out. I can get you a decent price for its spare parts.”

“I’m not gutting my car.”

“Look, I’d be more than happy to take your money, but you’re better off just buying a new one.”

No way. “I can’t do that.”

“It’s probably going to run you at least four grand, sweetheart. I’ve never replaced an engine that was less than six, and that’s not even including labor.”

“I don’t care. I’ll pay it.”

He shrugs. “Suit yourself. It'll take a few weeks to fix.”

“Weeks?”

“Yeah, what do you think this is? Toyota dealership? We need all the parts shipped, and that’ll take weeks.”

Fuck. I’m not staying here for weeks. “There has to be a way to get it done faster.”

“You can call every shop in a fifty-mile radius. I guarantee you they’ll tell you the same thing. It’ll take time.” He smiles apologetically, his sun-kissed shoulders lifting in a shrug that makes me want to throttle him.

This sucks. I have a life back in San Francisco: a stressful job at my ad agency, and an ex-fiancé I have to deal with. I can’t just leave for weeks.

But that’s exactly what I did, wasn’t it? I just left. There were no words spoken between Mark and me. I saw what I saw, and then I left. My head feels like it’s been in a vice for the last few hours with all the unscreamed insults and rants rebounding in my brain. Over and over.

“I’ll throw something in the pot to sweeten the deal. I’ll knock off a couple hundred dollars off the price.”

“So, first, you want to punish me, now you’re bargaining for my business?”

“I’m not finished,” he growls. “I’ll take a few hundred off the total if you stop by now and then. Just wear that.”

He points at my chest. I look down at myself, and then back at him, hardly able to believe what I heard. “Are you insane?”

“Nope. Just a red-blooded American.”

The nerve of this man. “How the hell are you still in business?”

“I’m the only mechanic in town.”

“One of these days, someone’s going to open a rival auto shop and you’ll lose all your clientele for being a jerk.”

“Who'll do that? You?”

“Maybe I will, smartass.”

I’m annoyed with myself for noticing that when he smiles, dimples carve deeply into his cheeks. “Do we have a deal?”

It’s not like I have a damn choice. “Fine,” I grind out, hating myself.

“Good. I’ll just print out an estimate, and you can sign it.” He gives me a sly look. “Then I can give you a lift to wherever you’re staying.”

“I’ll just walk.” It’s not far, but I want him to think I’d rather walk a mile in pumps than take a ride with him.

Gage lets out a little laugh at the disgust in my voice, and then he pops the trunk to take out my suitcases. “Looks like you’re already packed for a long trip.”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m just here for a friend’s wedding.”

He heaves my suitcases out of my trunk without a grunt. “The McConnellys. Yeah, I heard.”

“You don’t really seem like the kind of guy people gossip to.”

“Fair Oaks is a small town. Nothing much gets by me, San Francisco.”

The way he says San Francisco makes my muscles stiffen. What is his problem?

Gage leaves for a few minutes to print out the invoice, and then has me sign it on the hood of my car, the metal singeing the bottom of my arm. As I shake his hand, I beat down the tendrils of attraction slowly curling around my limbs.

“You know how they say it’s been a pleasure? Well, it hasn’t.”

Laughter bursts from Gage’s chest as he releases me. “I guess it’s all mine, then.”

Then a little push to both bags sends them moving. I hoist my purse on my shoulder and take both suitcases, my legs screaming as I wheel them away. Narrowed eyes watch me as I roll my luggage down the parking lot and onto the sidewalk.