Ellie sighed, the grumpiness that had plagued her all morning coming at her again in a rush. “No, Chip, he isn’t sleeping over. He left the car at my house last night and rode home with his fiancée. I told him I’d drive it to work this morning and he could pick it up here.”
“Want me to take it to him?” he asked eagerly.
“No, thanks. It isn’t as if we don’t have plenty of empty parking spaces.” She paused, narrowing her gaze on the sleek and sporty import. “Unless you think it might scare off our regular customers?”
“Well, your uncle Owen won’t like it much,” Chip said, then brightened with the lightbulb of an idea. “But I could move it around back, if you want. That way he wouldn’t see it.”
Ellie smiled. “Uncle Owen isn’t likely to come by this morning. I’m sure the car will be fine right where I left it.”
Chip moved a little closer to the window and for a minute, Ellie thought he might press his nose to the glass like the little boy he still sometimes seemed to be. “Man, what I wouldn’t give to drive a sweet automobile like that.”
“Go to college.” Ellie repeated the advice she offered him at least once a day, whether he asked for it or not. “Get a degree. Become a doctor. Then you can buy yourself pretty much whatever sweet vehicle your little heart desires.”
“Be easier to have rich parents.” Chip sighed. “Tell me what it’s like to drive a car like that.”
“It’s...great,” she answered truthfully. “But it isn’t that great. Call me old-fashioned, but I still prefer my El Camino.”
“If you’d paint the Chevy, you could be old-fashioned and be driving a real car.” Chip turned his lanky length away from the window and tried a different tack. “If I had a classic like the Chevy, I’d invite Emily Matthews to the Falls Day dance Friday night and I’ll bet she’d go, too.”
“I thought you already had a date with Sarah.”
“Well, yeah. But she’s just a friend.”
Ellie looked up from the stack of invoices on her desk. “Are you telling me that if I offered to loan you the Chevy for that one night, you’d ditch your good friend and ask some little blonde with big blue eyes to go in her place?”
“Well... yeah.” His shrug was clearly unrepentant. “Emily’s a cheerleader.”
“Oh, well, in that case, I’m sure Sarah would understand completely.” Ellie crammed the invoices into the top drawer and slammed it shut. “Men,” she said. “You’re all alike, no matter what age you are.”
Chip looked at her as if she were nuts. “If you offered to let Sarah borrow the Chevy, she’d drop me like a hot potato and ask Robert Perkins to go with her.”
“Would she, really?” Ellie considered the possibility, aggravated beyond reason with Chip’s attitude. “Let’s just find out. What’s her number?”
“Emily’s?” Chip’s huge feet shifted toward the door.
“No, Sarah’s. You do know your good friend’s phone number, don’t you?”
“Well, yeah, sure.” Chip shuffled some more and told her the number.
Feeling as if she was striking a blow for females everywhere, Ellie dialed and waited for Sarah to answer. When she finally did, her voice sounded seventeen and sleepy. Very sleepy. “Sarah,” Ellie said brightly. “Listen. I have a question. If someone offered to loan you, oh, say a classic Chevrolet coupe to drive to the dance Friday night, who would you take?”
“Brad Pitt,” Sarah said sleepily.
“No, not a fantasy date. Someone from Bachelor Falls.”
“Oh.” There was a pause. “I’m going with Chip Jenkins.”
“Aha,” Ellie smiled broadly at Chip. “That’s what I thought.”
There was a definite yawn at the other end of the line. “What kind of car did you say someone’s going to loan me?”
“A 1957 Chevrolet coupe. A real classic.”
“Oh. Any chance of getting something more modern?” Sarah was apparently approaching a state of consciousness. “If I had a really cool set of wheels, I could probably get Robert Perkins to take me to the dance.”
Shot down, Ellie thought, and then wondered why in hell she was talking to two seventeen-year-olds about cars. As if they knew the value of a classic. Or of friendship, for that matter. “Here’s Chip.” She thrust the phone at him and he kept a wary eye on her as he approached the desk.
“Hi,” Chip said into the mouthpiece, turning to muffle his side of the conversation from Ellie. “I don’t know. She’s being very weird.”
Weird, Ellie thought. She was twenty-nine, racing toward thirty, and acting weird because two silly teenagers didn’t appreciate the friendship they shared with each other. As if she cared who they took to the dance...or even whether they went or not. Ellie picked up Ross’s keys and hung them on the Peg-Board beside her desk.
Okay, she admitted, so this isn’t about Sarah and Chip at all. It’s about Ellie and Ross...and Tori. Pushing away from her desk, she left the office and headed for the back bay of the garage.
Hot Rod was there, waiting for her like an old friend. A friend she could depend on, talk to, know she owned absolutely, forever. A friend no fiancée was going to accost at 1 a.m. and rescue from the extra calories and cholesterol in a simple bag of popcorn. Opening the door, she slid onto the seat and fit her hands around the steering wheel. It felt cool and solid beneath her palms. Uncle Owen had given it to her along with the garage. She paid him a pittance each month in exchange, but basically, he’d given them to her with his best wishes six years ago. Since then she’d lovingly restored each part of the car...with Ross sharing in every decision either when he was home on break or by long distance. She’d planned all along to paint the car candy apple red, no matter how many times she teasingly told him she wouldn’t.
So now it was time to finish the job. Over time, her friendship with Ross was going to become one of distance and distractions. She wouldn’t be able to call him with minor happenings in her life. The times they’d spent on the phone, talking into the wee hours of the night, were drawing to a close. But she’d still have Hot Rod to talk to any time of the day or night. And that was something she could count on.
“Tori probably hates classic cars,” Ellie said aloud, her hands stroking the chrome steering wheel. Anyone who didn’t eat sweets or popcorn or meat loaf wasn’t going to be overly impressed with a ’57 Chevy. Not that it mattered what Tori thought about the car. It was Ross’s opinion that Ellie cared about. And she was going to make sure he enjoyed at least one ride in the hot rod before Tori brainwashed him into believing a Miata was a real car. Lovingly, Ellie patted the as-yet unpainted dashboard. “Today,” she promised.
“Ellie?” Chip called from the front bay. “Miz Eubanks is here to see you. Says her Barracuda is making a strange noise again.”
With a half smile, Ellie got out of the Chevy and gently closed the door. “Duty calls,” she said, and went toward the office and the first customer of the day.
ROSS UNFOLDED HIMSELF from the low-slung interior of Tori’s Miata, stifling the urge to shake himself like a wet dog. The Miata always gave him cramps in one way or another. But Tori loved it and it was a great-looking little car. Little, unfortunately, being the operative word. He walked around the car and leaned in the driver’s side window to kiss Tori goodbye. “Watch out for my mother,” he warned her with a smile. “She’s not used to your kind of kamikaze shopping.”
Tori shifted the car into Reverse as she puckered up and blew him a kiss. “I will return your mother to you this evening a wiser and more daring woman.”
“Poorer,” he said.
“Definitely poorer. See you tonight.” She revved the motor as she waited for a brown UPS truck to rumble. past, then gravel spun as the Miata peeled out of the parking lot and headed down Roosevelt Avenue looking something like a Chihuahua yapping at the heels of a Great Dane.
Ross watched as she cut out into the left lane and passed UPS with a full car-length to spare—if the Miata counted as a full ca
r. Three seconds, max, was all that saved Thelma Perkins’s Roadmaster from getting clipped on the left headlight. He didn’t know why Tori had to drive as if there were no tomorrow, but he tried never to get in any car if she was behind the wheel. It wasn’t the way he’d wanted to start this morning, that was for certain.
Glancing toward the office of Applegate Auto Repair, he saw Ellie looking out the front window, her eyebrows raised, one thumb resting in the tool loop of her overalls, one palm pressed against the pane. She was looking after the Miata with a frown, watching it disappear like a streak of red around the corner of Roosevelt and Wilson. Ross knew that look, and he knew he didn’t want it turned on him. Because if Ellie looked at him now, he’d have to admit, either with a shrug or a grin, that Tori wasn’t perfect. And he wasn’t going to do that. Not this morning when his eyes were gritty from lack of sleep and his temper was on the short side of good humor. So, without another glance toward the window, he dodged the “look” and walked into the office as nonchalantly as if Mario Andretti had just dropped him off on his way to the Indianapolis 500.
“Hi, Mr. Kilgannon.” Chip’s smile was as lanky and loose as the rest of him. “You must be the luckiest man alive.”
He felt cramped, not lucky, but Ross recognized teenage envy when he saw it. “Yes,” he said. “I must be. Tori’s a wonderful woman.”
“Yeah.” Chip turned another glance toward the parking lot. “A blonde, a BMW and a Miata. Man. You wouldn’t want to loan me a set of wheels for Friday night’s dance, would you?” He again gazed admiringly at the sleek little Beamer. “I could probably get Alison Hargrave to go out with me if I was driving something like that.”
“I suppose she’s a cheerleader, too?” Ellie spoke for the first time as she moved away from the window and behind her cluttered old desk.
“No, she’s an older woman,” Chip said on his way out the side door. “A topless dancer over in Fayetteville.”
Ross raised his eyebrows. “He’s kidding, right?”
She looked after the boy with affectionate exasperation. “I think so, but with teenage boys it’s hard to tell. I just gave him a hard time about standing up his good friend, Sarah, and lusting after Emily, the cheerleader. I suppose he wants me to worry a little about him and older women.”
“Little does Chip know, you’re not a worrier. Look at all the times I stood you up for some little nitwit with more blond than brains.” Ross smiled, expecting a bit of roasting in return.
But Ellie didn’t even smile. She flipped through her Rolodex with a studied concentration, as if she were hardly aware of Ross’s presence. He felt a tweak of annoyance. He was only in town for a few days, damn it. She shouldn’t be acting as if this was just like his other visits home. He was getting married on Saturday, for Pete’s sake, and he needed her attention. “I’m driving up to Springfield this morning,” he said conversationally.
“Mmm.” Ellie flipped through a few more cards, rearranging one here and there. “I before E is a spelling rule, Chip,” she said aloud, even though the boy wasn’t anywhere within earshot. “E still comes before I in the alphabet.”
“I need to get Tori a wedding-day present.”
“There it is,” Ellie said happily as she pulled a card from the file. “Granny’s Body Shop.”
“I was hoping you could go with me, help me pick out something special,” Ross finished, a hint of irritation vying for control of his voice. “But if you’re too busy...”
“Too busy for what?”
“To listen?” he suggested pointedly.
Ellie glanced at him, then looked again at the card in her hand. “I’m sorry. I was thinking about something else.”
“Obviously.”
This time her deep brown eyes focused fully on him, interested in a distracted, mysterious sort of way. “What?” she said, her gaze drifting to the phone card still clutched in her hand. “Did you ask me something important?”
He had the strangest impulse to reach across her desk and tip up her chin until she’d have to look him in the eye and listen to what he was saying. But she didn’t like anyone touching her chin. No, it was her nose. She hadn’t wanted him to tap her on the nose. “I did ask you something,” he said, keeping his hands to himself. “And it is kind of important to me.”
She nodded, but her gaze strayed back to the card. “Could I just—?” Her tone held the confidence that he would, of course, understand. “It’ll only take a minute.”
He knew when to give in. “Why don’t you call Granny and take care of whatever it is that’s got you in such a dither? Then maybe you can spare me a few minutes.”
Her smile flashed warm, wide and mesmerizing in its suddenness. “I don’t get in a dither, Ross. You’re confusing me with the other women in your life. Give me five minutes to take care of this and then I’m all yours.” She picked up the phone and punched in the numbers. Her smile drifted from him to the card she still held in her hand, but still somehow claimed his interest.
All yours, he thought wryly. As if Ellie belonged to him in any way, shape or form. She was the most self-possessed person he’d ever met. Had been since the time he became aware of her existence in sixth grade, when, without preamble, she’d asked him to be her bodyguard. He’d never thought to ask why she’d chosen him when, at the time, he hadn’t been much taller or scrappier than she was herself. And he’d never really thought about why he’d agreed to be her protector in exchange for a homemade chocolate chip cookie at lunchtime. Right now he couldn’t even remember who he had protected her from...or even if she’d actually ever needed protecting. But that had been the beginning of their friendship and the first time he’d experienced the wonderfully powerful sensation of knowing someone needed him.
All yours, he thought. In lots of way, he belonged to Ellie. So many memories, so much of his life was wrapped up with hers. She knew things about him no one else would ever know. She’d been beside him at the best and worst moments of his life. She believed in him more fiercely than he believed in himself. And on top of it all, when she smiled at him, he knew that—at least in her eyes—he would always be someone very special. So in that way, and probably others he wasn’t fully aware of, he was all hers. Not in a romantic way, of course. There never had been that between them... and now he wondered why.
True, she’d been something of a late bloomer. The first time he’d come home on break from college, he’d taken one look at his old friend and realized she wasn’t one of the guys...in more ways than one. He couldn’t put his finger on what had changed, but Ellie was suddenly different. Not precisely beautiful, but certainly striking. Not exactly a Playboy centerfold, but heads definitely turned when she walked by. At the time, Ross had entertained an assortment of purely lustful thoughts. He’d wanted to explore this new and unfamiliar Ellie. He’d even considered the possibility of convincing her to go back to Chicago with him, despite knowing that she was seriously in love with her electronics instructor. But then when she’d laughed and wanted to know if she’d suddenly developed a wart on her nose, the moment had passed, and she was once again the best friend he knew in the world.
As he watched her now, he wondered if they’d both subconsciously avoided the “something more” they occasionally felt, in order to preserve the one thing they were each certain of...that their friendship was the most cherished possession either of them possessed. Ross felt the warmth of his love for Ellie from the inside out as he watched her laugh and talk with whoever was on the other end of the phone line. Granny, he supposed.
“I can be there in an hour,” she announced happily. “Promise you won’t start another job before you can get to mine?” She laughed again, leaning her head back against the cracked chair cushion, exposing a long expanse of slender throat. “I know you’ve been waiting a year to do this, but... Okay, enough said. See you then.” She hung up, still wearing that mysterious, disarming smile as she clasped her hands on top of her desk and leaned forward. “Okay, Ross. Ask me anythi
ng.”
He stood there for a moment, watching her smile, then he put his palms on the desk and leaned toward her, until he was near enough to whisper. “Run away with me.”
She laughed. “Don’t have time. I’ve got to take Hot Rod to Springfield.”
“Granny’s Body Shop.” Ross grinned, comprehending the gist of her phone call. “You’re going to get the Chevy painted.”
She shrugged. “I figured you should ride in a really hot car before you settle down to a life of mundane luxury. Paula Meyers has been dying to get her hands on Rod’s body for months. It’ll be close, but she promised he’d be ready for the Falls Day parade...if she can get started this morning.”
Ellie pushed up and out of her chair and Ross noticed the full curves of her breasts beneath her habitual T-shirt and denim overalls. She did have a nice shape, he thought. And he’d always, privately, believed she had the best legs in town. Much more shapely than Belinda Morgan’s skinny calves. “Why was it you never tried out for cheerleader?” he asked.
Ellie shot him a quick, astonished glance. “Do you want the long list or the short one?” She shook her head and her braid fell off her shoulder to dangle down her back. “I believe that’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said to me. What made you ask that now, for Pete’s sake?”
Discretion was in order, for sure. Telling her she had great legs would only net him a suspicious, flattery-will-get-you-nowhere response. “I was thinking about Belinda Morgan, that’s all.”
Ellie pulled a Cardinals baseball cap off a hook on the wall and put it on. “She still lives in Bachelor Falls, you know. I’m sure she’d be delighted to know you still think of her cheerleading costume with the same reverence you had in high school.”
Ross hated that Ellie could follow the track of his thoughts so easily. Even if she wasn’t entirely accurate. “I was thinking how scrawny her legs always were,” he defended himself as he followed Ellie out of the office. “And how great yours are.”
A Bachelor Falls Page 7
