Page 2 of Always the Matchmaker
Ben
Holy crap does my head hurt. I blink rapidly, taking in the red and white snow angel in front of me. You’d think working in a shop as long as I have, I would stop hitting my head on vehicles, but maybe I like proving my skull is still thick. Or maybe it was like my momma always said: “Son, you’ve got a hard head and a soft heart, don’t go changing either, they’re a gift.”
Miss Owens wasn't none too happy at my news, her open mouth and devastation in her blue eyes told me this car was everything to her. I don’t know why. It hadallthe warning lights on inside and turning the key made the thing screech. The oil was clean, although damn near gone, and the tires were brand new and told me she took care of it, even if the hunk of met should’ve been put out to pasture a long time ago.
But with a roll of her eyes and a stroll around the car, she didn’t seem to also believe my professional opinion. I cock my head to the side to watch her, admiring the vision, her round hips sashaying with each step.
I meet her at the front of the car, stopping her self-motivated inspection and pull out the dipstick, offering it to her. She frowns, and takes hold of it.
“There should be oil on this,” I tell her, in case my demonstration isn’t clear.
“But…it’s dry?” she comments slowly. She peers towards her car, the vehicle too elevated for her to see inside the hood. Her ferocity combined with her petite form give a charm to her attitude.
“It is indeed, ma’am,” I continue. “You’ve got a leak and that was just from my first look. I didn’t want to waste your time or money going further. Repairing that leak alone would cost more than the worth of the car.” I have a reputation for being an honest mechanic, it’s what’s keeping my small business alive in the small town whenever competition tried to rear its ugly head. “It’s old. It’s dead...and it’s currently junk.”Maybe a brutally honest mechanic.
She catches me off guard by the tears in her eyes. A moment ago she had looked ready to tear me limb from limb for insulting the car and now that dipstick in her hands has shattered her world.
“How can you be so mean? This car and I have been through so much together.” She sniffles and blinks away her tears, too prideful to cry in front of me. Inside I’m very thankful. It makes me uncomfortable to see a woman cry. “We’ve been through so much together: school, guys, college, new cities, guys, festivals, guys.”
“That’s a lot of guys,” I remark, cracking a smile and hopefully cracking the tension.
But she doesn’t smile.
Smooth, Benjamin, real smooth.
“There’s been a few, but that’s really none of your business,” she states curtly. “Now, fix my car.”
“Ma’am, I can’t do that. It isn’t worth fixing.” I hold my hands up, meaning no harm.
“Fine. If you won’t put your greasy, filthy, rude hands on it, I’ll pay for it to be towed somewhere they will.” There’s fire in the pools of her blue eyes, hot flames almost singe my skin.
“Closest mechanic will run you $300 to make it worth my time to tow it there. Your Toyota isn’t even worth that much, sweetheart.”
“I don’t remember asking your opinion. But fine, tow it to my father’s place.” I grab a scratch paper off a workbench and a pencil on its last leg, looking at her expectantly while she taps her foot impatiently. “13748 Meadowlark Lane,” she says.
I don’t write it down and blink at her.
“That’s not correct,” I inform her.
“Excuse me? I think I know where my father lives.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, getting a feeling that this woman is either unhinged, or way far out of the family loop.
Her brow knits together and the striped top on her head looks read to blow off with steam. I see the brief moment of doubt but then the moment she crosses her arms on that bountiful chest and doubles down instead.
“It’s where I grew up, it’s hard to forget.”
I crack a smile in contrast to her sourpuss look.Cute when she’s mad, I think and lick my lips. “Well you certainly aren’t in Kansas anymore, Candy Cane,” I tease.
Before she can respond, I hold up a finger to pause the explosion I can see coming. “Because that’smyaddress.”
Candy
The nerve of this man. Now he’s making fun of meandmy car. I pull out my phone hastily, stepping away from Mr. Cross to get better cell reception.
“Daddy?” I ask when I heard the phone line go from ringing to grumbling. He was never good with smartphones. “Daddy, it’s Candy.”
“Candy!” His boisterous voice brings a smile to my face and I laugh weakly. I should’ve gone to see him already but I’d been caught up in the girls’ trip. “Hello, sweetheart!”
