Unraveling Him: A Small Town Family Romance (The Bailey Brothers Book 3)

by Claire Kingsley

  Despite the uncertainty of my current situation, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so light. I couldn’t stop smiling. I was free.

  However, I didn’t want to show up at Evan’s shop unannounced. Maybe I was crazy, but I wasn’t going to be rude.

  Plus, that was what Dad had done. I wanted Evan to know that I wasn’t my father.

  I stopped for snacks at a little mini-mart about half an hour outside the city—because road trips required snacks—and looked up the number for Evan’s shop. My heart fluttered at the memory of his intense brown eyes, but I took a fortifying breath, and called.

  “Bailey Customs.”

  “Hi, is this Evan Bailey?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh, good. Um, you answered so fast and now I’m kind of nervous.”

  “What?”

  “Sorry. My name’s Fiona and my car needs a new clutch.”

  “I don’t do that kind of work.”

  “No, I know you don’t. But—”

  “Are you local?”

  “I’m not, but I’ll be in your area—”

  “Then call Dusty’s Auto in Tilikum. Do you need the number?”

  “No, I—”

  “Okay. Bye.”

  My phone beeped as the call disconnected. Had he just hung up on me?

  Brushing my hair out of my eyes, I hit send again. Evan Bailey was going to help me. He just didn’t realize it yet.

  6

  Evan

  My phone rang again and a spike of annoyance made my shoulders tighten. Same number. What the fuck was wrong with her? I’d told her to call Dusty’s in town. I didn’t replace clutches on whatever piece of shit car she was driving. Why was she calling again?

  “What?” I barked into the phone.

  “Don’t hang up,” she said, spitting out the words quickly. “Just please, listen. I know you’re not a regular mechanic and under normal circumstances I’d take it in to a repair shop. But I can’t.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ll explain in person, I just want you to know I’m on my way.”

  “What?”

  “I’m calling to let you know I’m on my way. I can help you get something you want, so you’re going to want to talk to me.”

  “Why would you—”

  “I know, it’s weird, but trust me, you’ll want to hear me out,” she said. Why the fuck was her voice so cheery? She sounded familiar, but I didn’t know why. “I’m pretty sure I can find the place, but if I have trouble, I’ll call you back.”

  “No, don’t—”

  “Thanks, Evan! I’ll see you soon!”

  She ended the call and I looked at my phone. What was she talking about? She could help me get something I wanted? And why did I recognize her voice?

  I was about to put the phone down when it buzzed with a text. Seriously, who was this chick?

  But it wasn’t the same number. Great, who the hell was this?

  Hey, you! I’m back in town. Want to get together?

  My throat tightened at the thought that it might be her. But there was no way Carly would text me out of the blue like that. We hadn’t spoken in years.

  I texted back: Who’s this?

  It’s Jill, silly. Did you get a new phone and lose your contacts?

  Jill? Who the fuck was Jill?

  I hadn’t been with anyone since that stupid hookup last October. We hadn’t exchanged names, let alone phone numbers, so it couldn’t be her. And before that… it had been a long time since I’d been with anyone. It wasn’t like I dated anymore, and I certainly didn’t remember a woman named Jill.

  Then it dawned on me. She was pink cardigan girl.

  Why was pink cardigan girl texting me? I’d deleted her number months ago.

  Whatever. I had work to do.

  I got busy working on the Super Bee and completely forgot about the girl who’d called. Until Sasquatch got up and a second later, I heard a car outside. I wiped my hands on a rag and went out to see who was here.

  The car that parked out front had seen better days. There were dings and dents all over the body, a crack in the windshield, and the front bumper was crooked. Bits of rust and badly done repairs made an already ugly car look even worse.

  The shapeless form of a person buried in a too-large winter coat got out of the car. Her eyes were partially hidden behind dark bangs and beneath that, she wore a lot of makeup. Her nose was pierced, right in the center, and it was actually…

  Well, it was hot, but what the fuck did that matter?

  She looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place her.

  I glanced at Sasquatch. His tongue lolled out of his mouth and he sat next to me.

  Wait, why was he sitting?

  “Do we know her?” I muttered to him.

  The girl flashed a wide smile and waved. “Hi, I’m Fiona. I called a little while ago.”

  This was the girl on the phone? “You need a new clutch?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “That’s not what I do.”

  “I know and I’m not here to get you to fix my car.” She cupped her hands together and blew into them. “Wow, it’s so cold out here. Aren’t you cold?”

  I glanced down at my open flannel shirt, t-shirt, and jeans. “No.”

  “Really? I’m freezing. Isn’t it spring? Must be the elevation.” She blew into her hands again. “Anyway, I have a proposition for you.”

  “Who are you?”

  “Fiona.” She sighed. “Fiona Gallagher.”

  That was why I recognized her. She’d been here with Shane Gallagher.

  I crossed my arms. “Gallagher? You his daughter or his wife?”

  She winced. “Daughter. I’d point out the obvious age difference, but after this morning, that’s not as relevant as I would have thought.”

  “What?”

  “Never mind. Like I said, I have a proposition for you. This is going to sound weird but hear me out.”

  She rubbed her hands together and I could practically hear Gram’s voice in my ear. My eye twitched. I didn’t want to invite her in. If I invited her inside, it would be harder to get rid of her.

  “I’m not selling the Super Bee to your dad.”

  “Oh, I know. You shouldn’t sell it to him. In fact, if you were thinking about changing your mind, I’d tell you not to. He was probably going to low-ball you anyway.”

  That was… not what I expected her to say. “So you’re not here about the car.”

  “Not that one. And I’m not here for my father, either. In fact, I’m here because I’m trying to get away from my father.”

  Sasquatch looked up at me. I groaned. Girl in trouble, standing in the cold. Not that it was very cold out. But god, now she was fucking shivering.

  Don’t do it, Evan. Don’t get involved.

  But Gram’s conditioning was too deeply ingrained. I was basically an asshole, but I had limits.

  “Come inside.” I glanced at Sasquatch, about to tell him to go lie down so he didn’t try to defend his territory and keep her out, but he didn’t get in her way.

  “Thank you so much.” She followed me inside. “Your dog is gorgeous. Sasquatch, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  She crouched down and held out her hand. “Hi, Sasquatch. Who’s a good boy? Yes, you are.”

  He trotted to her, his tail whipping back and forth. She rubbed the top of his head, still talking in that ridiculous high-pitched voice, telling him how good he was.

  Yeah, real good dog, letting some weird ass girl sweet-talk him like that.

  “Some guard dog,” I muttered.

  “What?” Fiona asked.

  “Nothing. Why are you here?”

  She gave Sasquatch one last scratch behind the ears, then stood. “Okay, here’s the thing. This morning I found out… no, you don’t need to know about all that. Although it does provide context. Maybe I should start at the beginning.”

  I rested my hands on my hips and raised my eyebrows. �
�Seriously?”

  “I swear, this made so much sense when I was driving here. I had everything I was going to say all worked out, but you’re very big and intimidating up close.”

  I had no idea what to say to that, so I just waited.

  She took a deep breath. “Let me try this again. For various reasons, I walked out on my life today. I’m heading for my mom’s in Iowa, but I think my clutch is going out. I know how to fix it, I just need a place to do it.”

  “What does any of that have to do with me?”

  “Well…” She took another breath. “I’m hoping we can come to an arrangement. You let me use your shop and your tools so I can replace my clutch, and I help you get something you want.”

  “What do you think I want?”

  “I was here when you told my dad about the Mustang. It was an Eleanor, wasn’t it?”

  I eyed her. “Yeah.”

  “So would it be accurate to say you need another restoration opportunity? Maybe one that’s rare and valuable?”

  It would be accurate to say that, but I wasn’t sure where this was going. “What are you talking about?”

  She licked her lips. “What if I told you I know someone who has a 1970 Pontiac GTO. Convertible.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, right.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “You know someone who has the Judge.” I shook my head. There was no way. Only seventeen had been made, and five of them had disappeared entirely.

  “His name is Walt Browning and he’s a collector down in northern Arizona. He’s been sitting on it for years, saying he’s going to restore it himself. But he’s like eighty years old and he has dozens of half-finished cars. I think he’s finally starting to realize he needs to let some of them go.”

  I didn’t want to admit she had my attention, but damn it, she did. If she really did know a guy with a 1970 Pontiac GTO convertible, and could actually get him to sell it to me… holy shit. “Will he sell it?”

  “I talked to him on the phone this morning and he said he has a guy coming to look at it already. That tells me he’s at least thinking about it.”

  “He’s in Arizona?”

  “Yes, and I know that’s a long way, but I’m telling you, Mr. Browning loves me. I’m sure I can talk him into it.”

  “Call him.”

  She crouched down to pet Sasquatch again. “I will, because obviously you’ll want to verify my story. But he won’t sell it over the phone. He only deals with people in person. He has a real emotional attachment to his cars.”

  “So you’re saying you think I should drive to northern Arizona on the off chance some old guy you know might sell me his car?”

  “Yes. You lost the Mustang. And I mean, a ’67 Mustang is awesome, but a ’70 Pontiac GTO convertible? We both know a shot at restoring the Judge would put this shop on the map.”

  She wasn’t wrong.

  “And in exchange, you want to use my shop to fix your clutch.”

  Smiling, she straightened. Sasquatch stayed next to her. “Yep. And you’ll hardly know I’m around. I’ll be in and out in no time.”

  “Why come here?”

  “It’s a long story. All I can say is that things happened, and I had to leave. This is the craziest thing I’ve ever done in my entire life, but from the moment I decided to go, I knew it was right.”

  Oddly, I kind of understood what that was like.

  “And if the old guy won’t sell me the car?”

  She shrugged. “Then the deal is off. I’ll get my car fixed another way. But he will.”

  “You could still just take it to Dusty’s Auto in town. He’s a good guy, he won’t overcharge you.”

  “And it’ll cost me five times as much as it would if I do the work myself. I have more time than money right now, so a few days on the road to get you this car is a lot easier for me to justify than paying someone else for something I know how to do.”

  There was a strange sort of logic there. But she could also be insane. Maybe even dangerous.

  She idly reached down to scratch Sasquatch’s head again. He let her.

  This girl wasn’t dangerous. Not just because Sasquatch was at ease with her, although that told me a lot. I’d been wrong about people before, but those were times when I’d been off my guard. Not willing to see the truth. Right now, my judgment wasn’t clouded by emotion. She was weird, but probably harmless.

  And a 1970 Pontiac GTO convertible… If this guy had any idea of what he had—and it sounded like he probably did—it would cost me a fortune. But once it was restored…

  “Call the old guy. If your story checks out and he’ll show me the car, I’ll think about it.”

  Smiling, Fiona scrunched her shoulders and clasped her hands. “Oh my god, thank you. I know you didn’t say yes, just that you’ll think about it, but that’s progress. Small wins, right?”

  “Just call him.”

  “Okay, okay.” She rooted around the pockets of her giant coat, finally pulling out a phone. “That’s so weird, neither of them has tried to call me.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Just… nothing.” She tapped her screen a few times. “I’ll put him on speaker.”

  It rang twice before a wheezy voice answered. “Hello?”

  “Hi, Mr. Browning. It’s Fiona Gallagher.”

  “Well hello, sweetheart. I get to hear your voice twice in one day. What a treat.”

  She met my eyes and her smile widened. “That’s so sweet of you to say.”

  “What can I do for you, dear?”

  “Well, I’m wondering about your 1970 Pontiac. The GTO?”

  “Beautiful car.”

  “It really is. When we talked earlier, did you say you have someone coming to take a look at it?”

  “Yes, a guy coming from out of state. Seems pretty interested.”

  “Did you already agree to sell it to him?”

  “No, no, I can’t let one of my babies go to just anyone. Needs to be the right fit. I have to look them in the eye, make sure they’re worthy.”

  Fiona practically bounced with excitement. “I know, I totally agree. It’s an amazing car and definitely needs the right buyer.”

  “I hear something in your voice, sweetheart. What do you have cooking?”

  “You see right through me, Mr. Browning. Actually, I have what just might be the perfect buyer.”

  “Do you, now? Not your father.”

  She smiled at me again. “No, definitely not my dad. His name’s Evan Bailey, and he’s very talented. An up-and-comer. He’s looking for a really special project, and I can totally vouch for him. What do you think?”

  Mr. Browning took a deep breath. “Coming from you, that does mean something.”

  “So you’d consider it?”

  “I need to look him in the eye, same as anyone. But he can come take a look.”

  “Naturally,” she said, her voice bright. “Just promise me one thing, okay?”

  “What’s that, sweetheart?”

  “Don’t sell it before we get there.”

  He was quiet for a moment. “Hmm. How soon can you be here?”

  “A couple of days, I think.”

  “All right.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Browning. I’ll be in touch.”

  “Sounds good. Bye, sweetheart.”

  Fiona ended the call and triumphantly slid the phone back into a cavernous pocket. “See? It’s the real deal. But we should really get on the road. He said he’d wait, but I don’t think we should take any chances.”

  I crossed my arms. “We?”

  “Yeah. Obviously I have to come with you.”

  I leveled her with a glare, my nostrils flaring. “No.”

  She laughed—fucking laughed. “No?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “He won’t sell you the car if I’m not there.”

  “He said he needs to look his buyer in the eyes. I’m the buyer.”

  Her gaze flicked up and d
own, like she was sizing me up. “Yeah, exactly. I need to be there.”

  “You don’t think he’ll sell it to me if you’re not there?”

  “I know he won’t sell it to you if I’m not there. Trust me. I’ve known Mr. Browning for years. He’s very eccentric. We’re going to have to play this just right or no one’s getting that car.”

  My brow furrowed. “Why are you willing to drive that kind of distance with me? I’m a stranger.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “No you’re not.”

  “I don’t think seeing me for five minutes yesterday counts.”

  “We’ve talked on the phone a bunch of times. You bought a set of fenders for a ’68 Camaro from us last year.”

  “How do you remember that?”

  “Look, I’m trying not to let it hurt my feelings that you don’t remember me at all. Can we just move on? Besides, I carry pepper spray, and I’m almost positive you won’t murder me.”

  “Of course I won’t fucking murder you.”

  She smiled. “See?”

  God, what the fuck. How was she talking me into this?

  It wasn’t her. It was the Pontiac. I could practically hear the throaty roar of its engine. Smell the tang of gasoline in the air. I really wanted that car. I hadn’t even seen it, and I wanted it. As long as there was enough metal left to hold it together, it wouldn’t matter what kind of condition it was in. A restoration like that, done right, would guarantee me a spot in the museum’s permanent collection. Nothing Luke Haven could build could compete.

  I’d crush him with this.

  “Fine. Let’s go.”

  7

  Evan

  I tossed my duffel bag in the back seat of my Toyota Tacoma extended cab. I had the trailer hitched and ready to go. I’d either be bringing home the biggest build of my life, or a shit ton of regret. But sometimes big wins meant big risks.

  Sasquatch, experienced road trip dog that he was, jumped up into the passenger seat.

  “Get in the back, big guy,” I said. “We have company.”

  “That’s okay; if that’s his seat, I won’t take it.” Fiona carried a backpack and had two houseplants tucked under her arms.