by C. L. Roman
Chapter Two
Luke
My phone started ringing just as I was tightening the last bolt. I reached one-handed into my back pocket. “Y-hello.”
“Lukey! Lukey, are you still here up there workin’ on the A/C for Our Lady?”
I cringed a little when I heard Aunt Betty use that nickname. No matter how many times I politely reminded her I wasn’t the same ten-year-old kid who used to have sleepovers in the attic above her store, I couldn’t seem to get through to her. But then there was really no use telling Aunt Betty anything.
“No, ma’am. Down in the belly of one of Cap’n Manny’s boats trying to get him back out.”
“Well, drat! I have a pretty little girl here who needs some help. Her car’s broken down.”
I tucked the phone between my shoulder and ear, and wiped at the sweat dripping into my eyes, smearing grease and dirt across my brow. “I should be done in a bit, then I’m heading back. I still have to recharge the system at the church.”
“That’s perfect! You can stop by here on your way.”
Grunting, I grabbed the wrench with both hands and gave a sharp tug. “Sure, Aunt Betty. Whatever you say. I’ll drop everything for you.”
“You gettin’ cheeky with me, young man? You just finish up there and get your butt over here.”
I hung up the phone and put it back into my pocket, dropping the wrench into my toolbox as I backed away from the engine.
“Okay, start ‘er up!” I called out to Manny, the owner of the Peggy II.
Most people wouldn’t think so, but there was something sweet to me about the roar of a diesel engine. I listened for any problems while I wiped my hands on the back of my uniform.
“Sounds good, Luke!” I heard Cap’n Manny’s voice just before he shut the engine down again.
Back up on deck, Cap’n and a few of his guys were popping open beers. Normally, I would have one or two with them, but I knew good and well that Aunt Betty was counting the seconds until I got back to Simoneaux Bayou. And if I was late and she smelled alcohol on my breath… well, I didn’t like to think of the fit she would throw. So I said my goodbyes and jumped into my diesel truck to head back to Louisiana.
My family had started spending time on Simoneaux Bayou when my aunt bought the little country store, now called Betty Ruth’s. I was just seven years old then, and as a kid, I’d loved to spend time with her, so the beach had become my second home. Since Aunt Betty was unmarried with no kids of her own, that meant she felt free to dote on me during my younger years. And by the time I had entered my teens, I’d learned just how much of the fun stuff I could get away with under her watch.
Hell, there were times she even joined in on some of my antics. I grinned as I recalled the time I set off a string of cherry bombs under the stairs leading up to Perry Davis’ cabin. Aunt Betty, realizing my mischief, had helped distract him when he came out onto his deck. It wasn’t really Perry I had been looking to frighten, but the skittish “lady friend” he’d started bringing to the bayou. Gaye was an excellent cook, according to Mr. Davis, but she worried and whined about nearly everything. She drove everyone – including Perry to an extent – crazy with her nagging episodes of panic.
When she’d come running down the deck stairs, the sound of fire crackers exploding almost as loud as her screams, I’d nearly died laughing. Oddly enough, Perry had just leaned over his deck railing and narrowed his eyes at me. He never did tell my parents. Later he confessed to me, “I was pretty damned afraid I might miss her chicken pot pie more than the peace and quiet of my cabin, but so far I’ve learned to live without that pie.”
When my parents moved off to Arkansas for Dad’s retirement, I’d decided to stay behind in their old house across the bridge in Texas. Even so, the bayou was still a second home to me, and I spent most of my weekends there, fishing and carousing with my friends and Aunt Betty’s. And it wasn’t unusual for my aunt to call on me out of the blue to repair a car or an appliance or even an A/C unit for the local church. According to her, I could fix just about anything.
I saw the car with the hood up in the lot next door to Betty Ruth’s, so I pulled in beside it instead of going directly to the store. On the phone she’d said, “pretty little girl,” so I figured the chances were good it was some high schooler with a dead battery, and I might as well be prepared to give her a jump.
I’d just started checking things out when I heard footsteps behind me. “I hope you’re Lukey,” a female voice called out.
“It’s Luke, not Lukey. You know how aunts can be.” I pulled the oil dipstick, replacing it when I saw it had plenty of clean oil. Apparently the “pretty little girl” was good about getting oil changes.
“I get it serviced regularly.”
There was a touch of defensiveness in her tone, and I grinned a little to myself. “Yeah, that’s good. So, what was it doing it exactly?”
“Started shifting funny. And making a kind of whizzing sound. I don’t know. Just didn’t feel right.”
“Hmm,” I grunted, head still under the hood. “Might be the transmission. Is this a ‘99? They had some problems with that model. How many miles do you have on it?”
“About a hundred fifty thousand,” she said, and this time her voice was closer. She’d inched in beside me, and I saw a pair of manicured hands take hold of the edge of the car as she bent over to see. I caught the scent of something flowery, like one of the lotions Aunt Betty liked to get at the mall in Port Arthur. Sweet but not too overpowering. I let my eyes study her hands, how slender and long her fingers were. How soft I thought they would probably feel.
As I backed a step from the vehicle, I looked down and caught sight of her legs. Long, slender, yet shapely legs that went on and on. My gaze followed her bare arms up until I caught sight of her face.
This “pretty little girl” was all woman.
Her eyes were brown, dark brown against flawless honeyed skin. There was a sprinkling of freckles across her nose, though I figured she tried to hide them with the little bit of makeup I firmly believed she didn’t need. Her lips were shaped like a heart, darkened a reddish tone by lipstick.
When our eyes met, she let her mouth drop open a little, smiling and stepping away as if she thought she was intruding on something. I instinctively reached into my back pocket for a rag, thinking of how dirty I probably looked. I wiped my hands on that scrap of material that was just as blackened with oil and dirt as my skin was, making any attempt to clean up pretty much pointless.
I was just a diesel mechanic. And this woman was an absolute knockout, with long blonde hair, straight as a board and so fine it reflected the sun in waves. Yeah, she was a looker and out of my league, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy the view.
My eyes took all of her in, from the tight little pink tank top to her black shorts and her strappy shoes. I didn’t hurry, lingering as I absorbed every curve and angle. When I found her gaze again, she had a slightly annoyed expression on her face. She tilted her head to the side.
“Are you going to check out my car now or what?”
Chapter Three
Lacey
Blue eyes. The bluest eyes I’d ever seen. I wasn’t sure if it was his eyes that struck me or just the way they stood out against his grease-smudged face. But I was definitely stricken. The only thing I could think to do was to step back a little and put some space between us because I was afraid I would embarrass myself by just staring into those pretty blue eyes.
But then, even as I was trying to figure out what I should say or do, the man started checking me out from head to foot. I’d had plenty of men look me over, but nothing like this. His eyes moved smoothly on the way down, taking their time to caress me without touching me. My skin tingled and heated along the path of his gaze, and I think I stopped breathing for a moment.
When his eyes finally returned to mine, I took a breath, and the oxygen reaching my brain finally shook me out of my daze. I cocked my head to the side and m
ustered an annoyed expression. “Are you going to check out my car now, or what?”
He snorted, one corner of his lip turning up in a cocky grin. “Yeah, I might. If you hand me your keys, that is.”
Blushing, I reached into my purse to find them. Rummaging around, my fingers finally made contact with the keyring, and I yanked them out quickly in frustration. I never could find anything easily in this cavernous bag. Before I could turn them over to him, my cell phone started ringing.
When I saw the number, I immediately put my finger up to Luke while I walked away to take it. “Lacey Sinclair speaking,” I said, then squealed a little when I felt his arm reach around my waist to grab the keys from my hand. Our eyes met again, mine wide in surprise.
When he winked at me, a little flutter of heat flared up in the pit of my belly.
“Miss Sinclair? Are you there?”
“Oh, yes, sorry, Mrs. Foster. I was just dealing with the uh…” I glanced over my shoulder at Luke and saw him getting into the driver’s seat. “I was dealing with a mechanic. I’m having a little car trouble.”
“Oh, I’m very sorry to hear that, Miss Sinclair. Are you in Lafayette already?”
“No, see, that’s why I tried to call you a few minutes ago, actually. I’m not sure how long this delay will take me. I may not get in until closer to dinner. Could I call you when I’m near so we can make arrangements?”
There was a delay on the other end of the line, and I gritted my teeth as I waited. For all that I’d come to enjoy the warm correspondence I’d struck with her mother, Lydia Bennington, Renee Foster was nothing but cold and sour to me. I couldn’t understand why. It wasn’t as if I was seeking to snag her inheritance or anything.
A few years ago, I’d started doing a little delving into my family history, using one of those online search engines. Work and life meant I didn’t get to spend as much time as I wanted, so it took a while to get some traction. But eventually I was able to trace my dad’s side of the family back to my grandfather’s immigration from Germany in the fifties.
Just a few months after that we lost him in a car accident, so I kicked my research into high gear. Mom said it was a source of therapy for me. Then one day, I received a letter from a regional historical society in Louisiana. That letter eventually led me to Mrs. Lydia Kirkpatrick Bennington and on this trip to Lafayette.
“Mother’s been looking forward to this meeting for weeks, Miss Sinclair. I’m sure she would like to accommodate you in any way we can. But we leave early tomorrow morning, and I’d rather she not get overly tired…”
“Oh.” I nodded in understanding as if she could see me. “Yes, of course. I shouldn’t be too late. If we can’t get my car up and running, I’ll rent something quickly and get there as soon as possible.”
Luke was now on his back under the car, and I had a sinking feeling whatever was wrong with it wasn’t going to be an easy fix. I said my goodbyes to Mrs. Foster, then slipped my phone back into my purse.
“Here, dear.” Betty Ruth came trudging through the parking lot, a gigantic sombrero-type hat on her head. She was carrying a glass in her hand. “It’s so hot out here. I thought you might like some lemonade.”
I couldn’t help but smile at her, despite the nerves building up in my belly. “Thank you, Betty. I really appreciate this.”
“Lukey! Lukey, will you have this pretty little girl up and running soon?”
Hopeful, I tipped my head down to look under the frame at him, but all he did was grunt in response.
“Hmmm,” Betty mused. “That isn’t good. Not good at all when he makes that sort of noise.”
My schedule was too tight for this. The moment I’d found out Mrs. Bennington would be in Lafayette, I’d put in for a few days off from work to meet her. Mrs. Bennington had been kind enough to schedule our meeting for the Thursday before her flight home, so I needed to get to Lafayette this evening, or I’d miss my chance.
“Betty, I need to try to get into town and rent a car.” My belly churned as I considered the cost of renting. Plus I was probably going to be out another chunk of change to fix my car, too. I definitely hadn’t anticipated this.
“Is there some sort of emergency, dear? I’m sure Luke will be able to fix your car in no time.”
“From what you said, I was pretty sure it was the transmission.”
Betty and I both turned to face Luke as he came towards us, stuffing a rag into his back pocket. My stomach sank when he pronounced the news about my car, and I wanted to drop a few expletives. Instead, I groaned and rubbed my eyebrow while I tried to figure what to do.
“Lacey, this is my nephew, Luke,” Betty interrupted my thinking, “And Luke, this is sweet Lacey.”
I took a deep breath and pasted on a plastic grin, “Any idea what that’s going to set me back?”
He stared at me hard, those blue eyes of his looking deep into mine. “I pulled the codes. You’re gonna need to replace the solenoids. They’re not all out, but it’s better to replace ‘em all now.”
“Well, this sucks.” I side-eyed Betty apologetically.
“I can get ‘em for about $150. How would $300 be?”
“All in? The parts and your labor?”
He shrugged with a nod of his head, and I wanted to kiss him. I’d always been told transmission repairs were some of the more expensive things to go wrong with a car, so I was expecting thousands of dollars.
“Thanks.” I knew my grin had spread from ear to ear. “Yeah, $300 would be great.”
“There’s one problem, though,” he began just as I was turning back to Betty to discuss transportation. Mouth open to speak, I closed it before looking back at him. He held out his phone. “I checked with the supplier I work with, and I can’t get the parts until Monday.”
“Oh.” My brief moment of relief soured into disappointment. I considered work and whether I could afford another day off. That wouldn’t be much of a problem, but now I’d have to find a motel – a very cheap motel – to stay at for several nights. Either that, or drive home for a few days and come back for my car.
I heard my dad’s voice in my head: The best laid plans of mice and men.
“Well, first order of business is getting her to Lafayette,” Betty piped in, her tone all business. She faced her nephew and pointed her finger. “I’ll call Father Tyrone and tell him you’ll have to take care of the church tomorrow.” She faced me again. “You’re only staying in Lafayette one evening, right?”
“I wasn’t really planning to spend the night, but what does that…”
“Oh, good.” She turned back to Luke. “Then we’ll put her in the Tangerine Cabin. We don’t have anyone scheduled for that one until next weekend.”
“Aunt Betty.” Luke’s voice was low with warning. “I don’t know what you are cooking up, but Lacey…”
“Don’t argue, young man. You’re going to drive Lacey to Lafayette, and that’s the end of this discussion.”
“Whoa!” I rushed after the woman who was heading back to the store, her legs somehow moving faster than mine could. “Betty, wait. Betty, I just need to get to town to rent a car. Betty!”
“It’s no use,” Luke said softly while he came up beside me. “She’s like a runaway train. There’s nothing you can do to stop her when she’s set her mind on something.”
My mouth was open in astonishment. I wondered how on earth I’d ended up in this predicament. “So you’re….” I took a breath. “You don’t mind driving me to Lafayette?”
He pulled his rag from his back pocket again and started wiping his hands as he walked back towards my car.
“Don’t really have a choice, do I?”
Chapter Four
Luke
Aunt Betty was on the phone with Father Tyrone when I walked into the store a few minutes later. At the back, leaning against the kitchen door frame, was Lacey, her hand held up to her mouth as she worried at her thumb. Even all tangled up with nerves, she was still one of the prettiest girls
I’d ever seen.
And she wasn’t the only one with anxiety. While Aunt Betty finished her phone call, I headed for the bathroom. I had a big dollop of orange cleaner in one palm, and hanging over the sink, I used it to try to wash some of the grease off my hands and forearms. While I scrubbed the pumice filled soap up and down, the black mess dripped into the sink, making it just as dirty as I felt. I used what was left of the soap to try to get the black smudges from my face, too. After a few minutes, I turned on the water to rinse as much of it off as I could.
After drying my hands, I held them out in front of me and studied them. There was still black under my fingernails, and one of my thumbs was purple and blue from a mishap a week earlier when a nut had slipped and I’d banged it on an engine block. The perils of being a mechanic.
When I came out, Lacey was nowhere to be seen, so I approached Aunt Betty, my mouth drawn into a tight line. She smiled at me with twinkling eyes, and I had the feeling she was up to more than being just a good Samaritan.
“Lacey’s just in the ladies’ room, but she’ll be out shortly, and you guys can get on the road. I’m sure she’s so relieved, because she has an important meeting to get to. I’ll let her tell you all about it.”
I wanted to be stern with her. To fuss at her and tell her how stupid this was. To refuse to be a part of it. There were only two problems with that. One, I had absolutely no ability whatsoever to buck Aunt Betty. I hadn’t been kidding. When she got something in her mind, there was no stopping her. And two, I really didn’t mind driving Lacey to Lafayette. When else would I get the chance to spend a few hours with someone like her?
I put my hand out to Aunt Betty, palm up. She looked at it, then back up at me with a confused expression.
“Keys.”
“Oh!” She laughed. “You want to borrow my car?”
“Well, I’m damn sure not going to drive her all the way to Lafayette in my truck.”
She narrowed her eyes at me, but I knew her well enough to know she wasn’t offended by my language. “There’s nothing wrong with your truck, Lukey. You work hard for a living, and that’s something to be proud of.”
