Page 20 of Where We Stay
“You were trying to inherit her twenty minutes ago.”
“And I’d prefer to inherit her without steering-wheel trauma.” I glare at her.
“Hold on. I can actually help with this.” G pulls out her phone and starts typing.
“Do you secretly fix cars?”
“No.”
“Then how are you helping?”
She sends the message before slipping her phone into her pocket. The smile spreading across her face does absolutely nothing to reassure me.
“I know someone.”
“Who?”
“You’ll see.”
“G.”
“Relax, babes,” she says, settling back in her seat. “Help is on the way.”
* * *
Half an hour later, the low rumble of an engine reaches us. A black Ford F-150 Raptor pulls into the lookout with a flatbed trailer attached behind it. I suck in a sharp breath when I see who’s behind the wheel.
Dean.
“Our knight in shining armor has arrived!” G announces, throwing both arms into the air. Dean parks beside us and climbs out, shaking his head at her. He’s wearing a dark work shirt with the sleeves pushed up his forearms, faded jeans and an expression that tells me G gave him absolutely no useful information.
His eyes move from her to me.
My stomach does an irritating little flip.
“Please tell me you didn’t make him leave work for this,” I whisper to G.
“He owns the place,” G whispers back. “He can’t get fired.”
“That isn’t the point,” I mutter.
Dean reaches us before she can respond.
“You said the car wouldn’t start,” he says to G while glancing at my Kombi.
“You left out the part where it was older than all three of us.”
“Watch your tone,” I warn, placing one hand against the van. “She can hear you.”
Dean’s eyes return to mine, and the corner of his mouth moves slightly.
“Sorry,” he says, looking back at the Kombi. “What seems to be the problem?”
“I’m not sure,” I admit. “She started making rumbling noises, then she coughed and died.”
I pause, hearing how ridiculous I sound.
“Which sounds far more dramatic now that I’ve said it aloud,” I add.
