“I’m sweaty. I’m tired. And I stink in places I really shouldn’t be stinking.” I whine and shoot a glare to Dean, who’s sitting in the passenger seat looking sheepish.
“What?” he exclaims with his hands raised. “I didn’t know we’d have fucking car trouble. Your car isn’t even a year old.”
“I know!” I snap, hitting my hand on the wheel and growling in frustration. “Stupid old lady car!” I exclaim and push my head closer to the window for a breeze. “The frickin’ air conditioning isn’t even working anymore. Me and this car are officially in a fight.”
“I think we all just need to remain calm,” Lynsey chirps from the back seat, leaning forward so her head comes between Dean’s and mine. “Because, as horrible as this trip was, after everything that’s happened between the three of us the past couple of years, I think this was really healing.”
I close my eyes and shake my head, ruing the moment I agreed that a road trip to the Rocky Mountains to pick up this four-thousand-dollar carburetor from some hick who apparently didn’t know how to ‘mail things so they don’t get lost.’”
Honestly! How are people who don’t use the mail a thing? Though, admittedly, when we got to the man’s mountain home, I realized that he was probably more familiar with the Pony Express. And I couldn’t be sure his wife wasn’t his cousin. But that’s me being judgmental. Still, though, it’s no wonder he wouldn’t let me PayPal him the money. I had to get an actual cashier’s check from a real bank.
Then on our way back down the mountain, I got a flat tire. Dean, Lynsey, and I set about changing it together, thinking three heads could figure out how to put a spare tire on better than one.
One minute, I’m snapping at Dean to hand me the tire iron, and the next minute, he’s asking me if I’m being a bitch because he told me he had feelings for me. Then Lynsey chimes in, hurt and dismayed that neither of us told her about our conversation at the bakery, and it was a mess. On top of all of that, my car wouldn’t start back up! It was a disaster.
The three of us fighting with each other on the side of the road looked like a bad episode of Sister Wives: Colorado Edition.
I should probably make more friends.
“God, I hope this thing is legit,” Dean states, turning the carburetor over in his hands.
“Put it down. You’re making me nervous,” I snap, eyeing him cautiously.
We’re only five miles from Tire Depot, and they close in ten, so my nerves are freaking fried. “I just want to drop this thing off and forget this whole trip ever happened.”
“No!” Lynsey exclaims. “Stick to the plan. This is your grand gesture! Your get out of jail free card.”
“I don’t want a get out of jail free card,” I cry back. “The longer we spent on that hot highway trying to figure out what was wrong with my car, the more ridiculous this plan became in my head. I don’t want to buy Miles’s affection back. I want him to want me for me. Flaws and all.”
“So what are you going to do?” Dean asks, and I feel his concerned eyes on mine.
“I’m going to drop this expensive hunk of metal at the counter and leave. I’m not giving it to him naked or holding the thing above my head like John Cusack in Say Anything. I’ll drop it off at the front counter, and then we’ll go. End of story.”
Lynsey’s voice pipes up from behind. “That sounds like the worst ending to a book I’ve ever heard.”
“This isn’t a book!” I shriek. “This is my life, and it’s no wonder this plan has turned into such a mess. It has desperation stamped all over it. I just want to go home, eat some pizza, and cry a little, okay?”
The car is dead silent as we enter Boulder until Dean’s voice pipes up. “Hey Kate, I know you’re a little emongry right now, but I really don’t think you should drive on this spare tire anymore. They’re only manufactured to drive for so many miles, you know.”
I turn and glower over at him. He shrinks down into his seat a little bit. “Fine, I’ll leave it at Tire Depot overnight. One of you needs to call a cab because we’re almost there.”
“They have a courtesy vehicle that will take us home!” Lynsey chirps up helpfully from the back seat.
“Fine,” I mumble as we pull into the Tire Depot parking lot. I glance through the glass front side of the building and see Sam alone at the front counter. “You guys, go flag down the courtesy driver. I’ll be out in a minute, okay?”
They both nod and fold their sweaty bodies out of my vehicle, tails tucked between their legs. I owe them copious amounts of alcohol after this shitstorm of a trip.
When I walk inside, Sam’s eyes fly wide at my appearance. I haven’t looked in a mirror lately, but I’m betting I look a bit like Ronald McDonald after a bender.
I hold my hands up and say, “Don’t ask,” as I place the carburetor on the desk in front of him and my key fob.
“This can’t be from your Caddy,” Sam exclaims, a puzzled look at his brows as he turns the hunk of metal over in his hands.
“It’s not,” I reply flatly. “It’s the carburetor Miles needs to get his grandpa’s truck running. Can you give it to him, but not tell him it’s from me please?”
“Are you kidding me?” Sam asks, his face incredulous. “Mer—Kate, this thing costs a shitload of money. Where did you find it?”
“It’s a long story. Just take good care of it and make sure it gets to Miles, okay? Oh, and my Cadillac needs a new tire and a service. It’s started stalling on me. I’ll call you tomorrow with the details.”
Ignoring his perplexed expression, I turn to leave, but before I get more than a couple of steps away, he calls out, “Hey, Kate?”
I turn on my heel and prop my sweaty hands on my hips. “Yeah?”
“Why don’t you want to give him the carburetor yourself?” He scratches his beard nervously.
I shrug. “Because I don’t want him back like that.” I turn to leave again, but he stops me one more time.
“Hey, Kate.”
“Yes?” I ask, turning back to him again.
“You know Miles paid my uncle for every week you were here using the comfort center, right?” Sam’s sheepish expression is saying even more than his words could right now.
“He what?” I ask, confusion all over my face.
“My uncle is the owner of Tire Depot, and Miles worked out a sweat equity deal with him in exchange for him looking the other way while you worked in the comfort center.”
My eyes go wide. “I thought I was flying under the radar.”
Sam laughs. “Everybody saw you walking in and out of the employee entrance, Kate. You know you’re not invisible, right?”
I inwardly deflate.
Sam shrugs. “At first, my uncle was just giving Miles shit. He had him stacking tires upstairs in the storage room after a big shipment came in. He said he wanted to see how far he’d go for a pretty girl.”
My jaw drops.
Sam rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “But now I think my uncle’s taking advantage of him because he’s still got Miles doing shit, even tonight.”
“Miles is still here?” I ask, my voice rising in pitch, my belly doing that fireworks thing again that sounds like diarrhea but feels like delicious anticipation.
Sam nods. “He’s upstairs.”
“Upstairs,” I ask, my brows furrowing.
Sam walks toward me and hangs a left to the door that enters the garage. He points to a set of industrial stairs. “He’s up there stacking tires. You should give this to him yourself.” He hands the carburetor over to me, the corners of his mouth tipping up into a smile. “He knows you’re not like Jocelyn, Kate. Go put the boy out of his misery.”
I take the carburetor from Sam, my tummy literally up in my throat as I do. My nerves are intense at what I’m about to do, but Miles wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t care for me. This must mean more than casual to him.
I make my way into the quiet garage, but before I head toward the stairs, I call back to Sam, “There’s a couple of sweaty friends of mine waiting in the courtesy van. Will you tell them to go on ahead without me?”
Sam frowns at the parking lot but gives me a thumbs up. I turn back to the stairs and take a deep breath.
I’m a mess, I’m disgusting, and I’ve had a horrible day. There’s only one person who can make it better. Time for my book-worthy moment.