Chapter 5
“You’re smokin’ hot.”
Kitty stifled a groan. For the past hour, the conversation had been carried by her grandmother. She’d never heard Dotty talk so much. Which would’ve been fine except Dotty switched sanity tracks quicker than a man switched TV channels with his remote. It wore on Kitty’s already frazzled nerves. And now, Grandma was flirting with Beck.
“Smokin’ hot,” Dotty repeated, pointing to the front of Beck’s truck.
Or not flirting. The rain was letting up. Steam rose from beneath the hood.
Shoot. Kitty kept looking forward. She’d parked facing away from the souvenir shop so Beck wouldn’t notice his mangled grill. She’d been hoping Grandma’s fender bender hadn’t resulted in any casualties besides the grill. Although…
Kitty straightened. You could tell a lot about a man by his relationship to his vehicle. Or his cell phone. Or his mother. Kitty angled herself to better read Beck.
“That’s odd.” Beck peered at the gauges, as calm and courteous as he’d been to Dotty the past hour. “The engine temperature is in the red.”
“Take the next exit.” Dotty pointed ahead. “There’s a dealership in West Palm Beach that’ll fix anything.”
Kitty made a more careful study of their whereabouts. They were coming up to what looked like auto row–several car dealerships clustered together. She recognized a familiar blue and white sign. In the chaos of the day, she’d forgotten help was so close.
Beck moved into the right lane. “How do you know about this place?”
“My family has owned that chain of dealerships for four generations.” Dotty’s voice rang with pride, which might have been inappropriate considering she was the reason the truck needed repairs.
“Which one?” Beck came dangerously close to running over a Mini Cooper, braking at the last minute. “Robertson?”
Grandma did the bobble-head nod.
“They’re everywhere along the east coast.” Beck signaled to exit. “Why didn’t I know you came from automobile royalty?”
“I wonder.” Kitty didn’t pull the sarcasm punch.
“Don’t imply Maggie and I don’t talk about important things.” Beck took the curved exit at freeway speed, making Dotty flop against Kitty’s shoulder. “Let me assure you, we talk about things that are important to us, mostly a shared interest in horses.”
Grandma Dotty snorted like a winded horse and pushed her pink heart-shaped sunglasses up her nose. “Your so-called romance is in worse shape than I thought.”
“You’re lucky I have a sense of humor.” Beck’s grin was a lopsided baring of teeth.
“Let’s hope someday we can look back on this day and laugh,” Kitty muttered.
“Here’s hoping that someday is tomorrow.” Beck cornered as if the big truck was a sports car, turned into the dealership with a squeal of tires, and parked beneath the service carport in front of several open and empty service bays. He leapt out as if the truck needed life support and he was a paramedic, running to the front bumper. And then he froze.
Steam billowed from the hood like hot water from an angry geyser.
Kitty suspected something else was about to blow. She held onto Dotty’s arm, anchoring her in her center seat.
Dotty blinked at Kitty primly. “Aren’t we getting out?”
“Wait.” Kitty wanted Beck to have some alone time with that damaged grill. She wanted to drink in his reaction like a cup of I-told-you-so tea. If he didn’t handle the smashed up front end well, it’d be another strike against him.
“What the…” Beck shot them with a blue-laser glare. “How did this happen?” He hadn’t shut his door, which was letting in the muggy Florida heat, but wasn’t nearly as hot as Beck appeared to be. He returned to stand inside the door, giving them the evil eye. “Is that what you meant about being locked in the bathroom?”
“I was locked in the gas station’s ladies’ room,” Grandma said with squared shoulders and socialite aplomb. “It was very disconcerting considering the smell of the commode.”
“Before the bathroom incident,” Kitty began, trying not to smile. She widened her eyes innocently. “There was this hotel shuttle.”
“Oh, that.” Dotty scoffed. “He was a horrible driver and–”
“It was pouring.” Kitty wrested control of the conversation. “And–”
“Whack!” Dotty slapped her hands together.
Beck’s jaw ticked sideways and his gaze collided with Kitty’s. “You didn’t see a shuttle bus?”
“It was pouring,” Kitty repeated, feeling the first stirrings of annoyance. It had been an accident, after all.
“You didn’t see a shuttle bus?” Beck made a strangled noise. “Or its brake lights?”
Kitty refrained from rolling her eyes. “It was–”
“He stopped when the policeman said to go.” Grandma Dotty was nothing if not truthful. “How was I not supposed to hit him?”
Beck’s jaw dropped.
Kitty couldn’t contain her smile. This was where Beck would lose his cool and ditch them. Kitty would be vindicated if he left them stranded in Florida. And since he’d delivered them to the cradle of Grandma Dotty’s family, they wouldn’t be without resources to get to Tybee Island.
“Can I help you?” The blue shirt and navy pants would’ve given the young man away as a mechanic if his greasy hands holding a greasy blue rag hadn’t. His red and white name tag said Vic.
Beck gave Kitty a look that said they’d discuss Grandma driving his precious truck later. “We have a problem.” Beck pointed toward the hood. “If I had to guess, I’d say radiator.”
Vic puckered his mouth the way people did when they didn’t want to deliver bad news. “Here’s the thing. We close early on Saturdays. And we’re not open on Sundays. I can’t help you.”
“You can’t…” Grandma jerked back into her high society persona. “Young man, do you know who I am?”
His glance catalogued the granny-granddaughter twinsies with their matching board shorts, pink flamingos and pink heart sunglasses. He shook his head.
Kitty tossed her sunglasses on the dashboard.
Grandma released the belt buckle and scooted across the seat toward the door. “Vic? Is that your name? I’m Dorothy Robertson Summer and you will fix this vehicle A.S.A.P.”
Vic didn’t back down. As a south Florida resident, seeing the elderly throw a tantrum was probably nothing new to him. “Nice to meet you, ma’am, but–”
With the agility of a cautious toddler on an unfamiliar jungle gym, Grandma climbed slowly off the seat, onto the running board, and then to the ground. She settled her pink hat on her white hair and pushed her sunglasses up her nose. “Vic, I’m part owner of this dealership. My photograph hangs inside this building.” Her words echoed into the empty service bays.
Go, Grandma.
Vic and Beck looked taken aback. It was worth saving Beck’s truck to see her grandmother clear-headed and in control.
“Do not…” Dotty was saying, propping her fists on her hips. “I repeat, do not make me call my brother Winthrop.”
Uh-oh. Dotty went from concrete to crazy so fast it made Kitty’s head spin.
“Winthrop Robertson?” Vic released a breath and actually smiled a little.
“Um, Grandma.”
“I see it’s still hard to find good help.” Dotty waved Kitty off. “Yes, Winthrop Robertson. My brother. Your boss.”
“Grandma…”
But Vic was quicker than Kitty and far less sensitive. “Look, lady. Winthrop died, like, two years ago.”
Kitty scrambled out of the truck, put her arm around her grandmother and glared at Vic. “She really is Winthrop’s sister. She’s just tired and forgot he was…gone.”
“Gone…” Dotty blinked at her surroundings. “As in dead gone?”
“Apparently,” said Beck, sans sensitivity. He turned to Vic. “Don’t you have someone who can take a look at my truck? I’ll pay double.”
“You will not.” Dotty got her second wind. She shook off Kitty’s arm and shook her finger at Vic. “I want to speak to your manager.”
“Sure.” Vic shrugged and disappeared into a service bay.
“You need to get out of this heat.” Kitty pointed toward the service manager’s desk, which was housed behind a wall of glass and might be air conditioned.
“Winthrop is dead?” Dotty walked slowly toward the door.
Kitty began to follow, but then heard Beck murmur, “I loved this truck.”
She whirled on him. “It’s not dead.” And geez, Beck was supposed to love her sister, but he looked more morose over a little dent than he’d been over his bride running away.
Beck stared at the diminishing steam and mangled chrome. “This will take days to fix and even then, it’ll never be the same. I should rent a car.”
I, not we. Something inside Kitty panged. “A car? You wouldn’t be able to pick up Mags,” she reminded him, in a carefully neutral voice.
His eyes returned to her with a heat that rivaled the day’s temperature. “You think I care about that filly more than my fiancée?”
“Yes.” In reality, she didn’t know who or what he cared about, or how much. And that was the problem. She’d shirked her duty to her sisters, and now guilt tumbled in her stomach like storm surge hitting the shore.
Kitty turned away. Her grandmother was wandering around the dealership unchaperoned and sometimes it was best to leave a man to his thoughts.
She caught up to Dotty inside.
Grandma stared at a row of black and white pictures on the wall. “That’s me.” She pointed to a row of women in bathing suits with sashes across their waists. She was the only one wearing a tiara. “I won Miss Florida. My father drove me to New York for the Miss U.S.A. pageant, and that’s where I met your grandfather. He was a pageant judge.” She sighed and then stared at the martini drinking flamingo on her shirt. “I had it going on once, didn’t I?”
“More than once.” Kitty rested her head on Dotty’s shoulder.
Vic approached with an older, heavier man wearing the same navy mechanic’s uniform.
He introduced himself as the service manager. “Are you the one claiming to be a Robertson?” The man may have been older than Vic, but he wasn’t much wiser or any better at customer service.
Grandma drew herself up and pointed to a photo of her sitting on the hood of a race car wearing white coveralls and a grin as big as the moon. “That’s me, you fool. Can’t you see the resemblance?”
Everyone peered at the photo, in which Grandma looked like she was barely old enough to drive. She’d been a babe back then, but she was just another old lady in Florida now.
Kitty removed Grandma’s heart-shaped sunglasses before facing the mechanics. “I’m her granddaughter, Dr. Kathryn Summer.” Beck would probably argue they’d also lost their minds, too. “My grandmother is a Robertson. We can call someone in the family if you like.” Kitty flipped through her mental contact list. “Uncle Lyle. Or my cousin Philippa or Creighton.” She hoped she didn’t have to deal with Creighton. “We’re taking my grandmother to Atlanta and we need reliable transportation.”
“You’d be out of here quicker if you bought a new truck.” Vic was apparently über sensitive (not) and über concerned for his fellow man (not). “Especially if something other than the radiator needs to be replaced.”
A man in his thirties with the pert Robertson nose entered through a side door. He wore a white shirt, blue tie, diamond-crusted rings, and a salesman’s smile. “Great Aunt Dotty.” He swept Grandma into a hug that knocked her pink hat off. “Was there an accident? Are you okay?”
Grandma bent to pick up the pink ball cap, looking a little lost. Most likely, she didn’t recognize her nephew now that he was a grown man.
“Creighton.” Kitty stepped into her second-cousin’s arms for a brisk hug. He was her least favorite Robinson relative, but she’d take any family over Vic right now. “I haven’t seen you in eight or ten years.” Thankfully.
“Not since I beat you at the family summer games in Tybee.” And there it was. That triumphant grin that set Kitty’s teeth on edge. His gaze flicked to her ensemble. “Did you lose another bet in a boat race?”
“We lost our luggage,” Kitty said quickly before Creighton asked if she was on a bender. “Did I miss you at the wedding today?”
“Didn’t go. Big sale. Dad and Philippa are in Detroit for a conference. I couldn’t get away.” Creighton turned his attention Beck’s way, giving him a once-over. His smile broadened the way a car salesman’s smile did when he saw desperation and dollar signs. “I hear you’ve got transportation issues.”
“We rear-ended a hotel shuttle bus,” Beck said, suddenly inclusive of Kitty and Dotty. “We need to get to Tybee Island as soon as possible. If you’ve got a streamlined purchase process and a dually, I can buy a new truck.”
He was breaking off his love affair with his black beast? Kitty’s life would be so much easier if Beck gave up on Maggie, too. But she had to admit, she’d be disappointed in him if he did.
“New truck. Pashaw.” Grandma waved that idea aside. “Creighton will fix yours in a jiffy. Why, you’re practically family.” She turned faded, uncertain brown eyes to Kitty. “Isn’t he?”
“He’s as close to being in the family as a person can get,” Kitty confirmed with a nod.
Creighton tilted his head, considering Beck’s truck. “Can you give me a minute to discuss this with my service manager?”
“Of course.” Kitty drew Dotty toward the windows and a view of row upon row of new trucks, none of them the kind with dual wheels in the back. When Beck joined them, she whispered, “I can’t believe you’d just give up on your truck. How disloyal.”
Beck’s eyes flashed back to vengeful mode. “Don’t go thinking I get rid of things at the first sign of trouble. It’s just…It’ll never be the same. The frame might be damaged. I need things in my life I can trust.”
That would never be Kitty.
“Good news!” Creighton’s voice was back-slapping happy. His grin was just as slick. “Give us until tomorrow morning and your truck will be as good as new.”
“Drivable,” Vic muttered with a shake of his head.
“See?” Dotty beamed. “Family always takes care of family.”
“Always,” Creighton agreed, with a dismissive nod to the service crew. “Now, I’m afraid I can’t offer you dinner tonight. My wife called earlier. She’s having contractions. Not to worry,” he said quickly at Kitty’s sharp intake of breath. “This is our fourth kid and I know I’ve got a few more hours until things get serious.”
Creighton knew nothing. Every pregnancy was different. Kitty refilled her lungs with air, ready to tell her cousin the well-being of his wife and child shouldn’t come second to car sales, but Beck laid a hand on Kitty’s shoulder–not to hold her back or shut her up. His touch was gentle, as if he knew she was upset by Creighton’s callousness.
“You should be with your wife,” Beck said, passing his palm across Kitty’s shoulder blades and back again as if to comfort her. “We understand. If we can trouble you for a loaner for the night and a recommendation for a hotel, we’ll get out of your hair.”
“A hotel by the beach, of course,” Dotty said, owl-eyed. “With room service.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Beck said, smiling down at Kitty as if they weren’t at odds with each other.
As if he didn’t regret their kiss.