“Where is she?” he asked when he found Dixie in the kitchen and the living room empty.
“Don’t start, Mason.”
Jamming his hands on his hips, he fumed. “I’m not starting anything,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’m trying to figure out what the hell happened out there!” He ended on a raised voice. Even he knew his anger was out of proportion for the situation.
“Keep your voice down!” Dixie said sotto voce. “Damn you and your classic car fetish. Some body filler, a little paint and it’s fixed.”
Astounded, he stared at her like she’s grown horns. “The hell with the car! I’m not worried about the car. That,” he said pointing toward the road, “was way beyond being startled by a backfire. She went stiff as a board and was terrified. She panicked and hit the gas without even trying to go around me! She could have been killed if I’d been driving something bigger and heavier. That Corvette would have turned into separate fiberglass fibers if she hit a semi or a Humvee!”
He was practically panting. He was shaking and his fists were clenched in front of him. Putting both hands up in surrender, he turned away. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m talking about.”
“You know exactly what you’re talking about. You really care for her, don’t you?”
He spun back. “Care for her? I’ve known her less than 24 hours. She’s barely said twenty words to me.”
He hated when Dixie smiled at him like he was an ignorant child. “Stop it.”
When the tea kettle went off, she turned to fix the tray. “You want a cup of tea?”
He hated the I-know-more-than-you tone in her voice, too. “No.”
She lifted the tray and headed down the short hall. She tucked the tray under her arm and opened the door. “There’s beer in the fridge.” She went in and shut the door very quietly.
* * *
For a moment, Dixie thought Carol had escaped through a window or something. But there was a round lump under the blanket Dixie had handed to her earlier. The lump was in a distinctly fetal position.
“Carol?”
The lump said something.
“I can’t hear you. Can you sit up for a minute? The tea is ready.”
Carol slowly emerged from her cocoon and sat up. Her eyes were still red and she clutched a tissue in one hand. She swiped it under her nose.
Dixie put the tray down and fixed a cup of tea. She handed it to Carol whose hand shook until she propped it up with her other hand. Cautiously assuming Carol had the cup, Dixie turned and fixed her own cup. Then she sat cross-legged on the foot of the bed and watched Carol sip carefully and stare at her knees still under the blanket.
“Tough day, huh?”
Carol nodded. When she looked up her eyes were drenched and her face scrunched in shame and anguish.
“I didn’t mean to hit his car! I just panicked.” She looked down. “I thought the backfire was an attack. I had to know where it was coming from. I hit the gas because I had to get out of there. There was dust in the air and people screaming. I panicked!”
Dixie got up and put her cup aside. She took Carol’s and sat down beside her with an arm around her shoulders. “Everyone knows you didn’t mean it. And after your experiences it’s logical to assume a loud concussion is an attack. And the truck was right beside you.”
“But…but I hit your brother’s car,” she said.
“Let me tell you something. Mason has been in more wrecks than the entire Army. He’s a car fanatic and a great mechanic as well as a body-man.” When Carol looked at her questioningly, Dixie explained. “He owns a garage. He maintains and fixes cars and has a small yard behind in the back where he does body work on a few, select wrecked cars. He’ll probably fix your car as well as his own.”
Carol was shaking her head. “I can’t let him do that. I caused the damage.”
“Well, I’m sure your insurance will pay for it.”
“Maybe. Until they find out I caused it.”
“In Florida, a no-fault state, insurance companies pay for accidents when their clients cause them.”
Dixie rubbed a hand down Carol’s arm. “This is something that happens to almost everyone at one time or another. There’s nothing to worry about.”
Carol nodded.
“I have an idea. Let’s go get Harry and take him for a walk. What do you say?”
“I don’t know. I’ll probably screw up his training and he won’t be fit for babysitting anymore.”
Carol lifted her head when Dixie laughed. “Oh, Carol. You have a lot to learn about dogs.”
“I know. That’s one other thing to worry about.”
“Come on. Let’s go get Harry.”
Before they were ready to leave Dixie’s bedroom, raised voices came from the living room.
“Who the hell are you and what are doing drinking my beer in my chair in my house? And where the hell is Dixie?”
“Whoa. Take it easy before you blow a transmission.”
“That’s my fiancé meeting my brother for the first time.” Dixie walked out into the living room. “Brand!” She went to him for a kiss hello which he accomplished without looking away from the man now standing up glaring at him.
“Brand, this is my brother, Mason. Mason, my fiancé, Brand Taylor.”
“I gathered as much,” Mason said warily.
“Your brother?”
“Yep.”
“Oh. Well.”
Mason wiped his hand on his jeans and held it out. “Pleased to meet you.”
Brand put his suitcase down and took the extended hand. “Same goes.”
Dixie watched as the two men studied each other. Her brother looked like he could live without his future brother-in-law and Brand looked…pretty much the same.
“Come on. Both of you sit down. Brand, can I get you a beer?”
“Is there any left?”
Mason snorted.
“Mason, are you ready?”
“Sure, thanks.”
He went to retake his seat.
“Even if you can’t sleep on a couch, you can surely sit on one, can’t you?” Dixie muttered as she walked past him.
Brought up short, he glared at her, then at Brand. But he did take a seat on the couch. Brand lowered himself tentatively into his easy chair like he thought Mason had poisoned the fabric or something. She noticed her brother was moving more carefully than before. She sighed hoping he didn’t end up with a whopping case of whiplash. God knew how long he could afford even a single room at the Casa Blanca Resort and Spa. She knew why he was here. He couldn’t be near the garage without trying to work. It was best he stayed away and let his staff run it while he healed up a bit.
She listened to the stilted conversation coming from the living room while she got Brand’s beer and put together some snacks for them.
“Why are there two wrecked cars out front?”
“Oh, I had a little accident.”
“You were driving two cars?”
Mason harrumphed. “No, Carol was driving the other car.”
“So you rammed your Corvette into her sedan? Why?”
She heard Mason shifting on the couch. He was going to blow if she didn’t change the conversation soon. She grabbed some crackers and spilled them on a plate. The plastic carton of hummus was dropped unceremoniously next to the plate. Then there was the beer. “Damn. I need the tray.” She trotted out of the kitchen, through the living room and down the hall. When she opened the door, Carol was sitting on the far side of the bed staring out the window. “Just need the tray. I’ll be right back.”
Nervously leaving Carol silent and staring, she closed the door softly and trotted back to the kitchen.
“What’s going on, Dix?”
“Almost ready.” She shoved the tea fixings off the tray, put the plate and hummus on it, added the two beers, and headed for the living room.
“I didn’t ram my anything into her. She, uh, there was something in the road and Carol tried to swerve around it.”
“Carol drives the Vette?”
“Yeah. And my car is not just a sedan. It’s a 1991 BMW E36 M3, all original. Well, it was all original. But I’ll fix it right.”
Dixie watched as Brand took his bottle of beer.
“You fix cars? Body work?”
“I do it all. I have a garage.”
“And the Vette?”
Dixie rolled her eyes and went to get Carol while the two macho dudes bonded over old cars. “What is it with guys and old cars?” she muttered as she went into her bedroom.
Without turning, Carol answered. “It’s not just guys. Some girls love old cars. I do. I have a classic ’67 Corvette with 427/435 horse power. It’s a four speed with brand new anti-locking brakes.” She sniffed.
Dixie gave her a moment then clapped her hands. “Well! Let’s go see Harry. I’m sure you’re looking forward to that.”
“Yeah.” Carol stood up and turned around.
“Oh, no. You have a black eye. You must have hit the steering wheel.”
They walked into the living room. Carol nodded lifting a hand to her face. “It’s a little sore but not too bad.”
Brand and Mason stood when the two women appeared. Brand looked at Carol’s eye which was turning purple. “Didn’t the air bag deploy?”
“No air bag. It’s a 1967 Corvette. I thought you saw it,” Mason said.
Brand looked blank.
“Air bags weren’t installed in cars until the mid-ninety’s.”
“Oh,” Brand said.
“You’ll want some ice for that,” Dixie said to Carol. “Come on.” Dixie led her into the kitchen, immediately forgetting the male drumming ritual going on in the living room.
Mason dropped back on the couch. The movement caused his shoulders to tighten up and his neck to lock in place. He groaned but managed to talk anyway as the ladies returned. “Don’t worry. This is from a couple of days ago.”
Now Dixie groaned. “I’ll get the aspirin and a heating pad.”
“No, no need to bother.” Mason tried to straighten out his twisted upper body. “I’m fine.”
Dixie scoffed. “You can’t just bull your way through everything, Mase. Take the aspirin and the heating pad. You’ll feel better.” She went off to play nurse but hurried back. Leaving Carol in a room with two over-sized idiots was not a good idea.
“How long have you owned the Vette?” Brand asked.
Carol was sitting in the lounge chair with a bag of ice on her eye when Dixie returned. Brand was on the end of the coffee table with his arms on his knees. Mason stood next to Carol, watching closely. Surprisingly, Carol was talking calmly and knowledgeably about her car.
Mason spoke up. “I checked the front end. The damage doesn’t look too bad, mostly cracked fiberglass and the headlight.”
“Thanks. I’m so sorry—”
“Not necessary. When that animal ran in front of you there wasn’t much else you could do.”
Carol stared up at him. She looked over at Dixie. Dixie winked. Carol cleared her throat.
“Here.” Dixie handed the aspirin and heating pad to Mason. “I’m sure you know what to do with these.”
He took them and dropped both on the coffee table.
Withholding her opinion of stubborn, childish men, she gestured to Carol. “Let’s go see Harry.”
They walked out the door and headed for the kennel.