Page 62 of Sanctuary

“Thanks.” Gabe closed the door behind her and stared at herself in the mirror before turning on the faucet. She pumped the soap a couple of times and lathered it up over the grease spots, working it in as she continued to study her own face. How was this thing going to turn out? Gabe wasn’t an animal; she could control her urges around Lori, but how healthy was it to keep torturing herself? Surely there were other women out there she could be friends with and not have an inescapable sexual attraction to.

She rinsed and dried her hands. The dispenser adjacent to the soap was moisturizer in a matching lemongrass and coconut scent, so she applied some, aware that her knuckles were looking a bit dry from the de-greaser at the garage. In fact, her hands were looking rough but not in a rugged way that some women liked. That shouldn’t matter right now though, since she was with a friend and didn’t need to worry about things like that.

Gabe pulled her phone from the thigh pocket of her cargo pants and fired off a quick text to Shay to let her know she wouldn’t be back for whatever faux-gourmet meal she’d be burning.

Cozy dinner for two doesn’t sound like the friend zone. I hope you know what you’re doing.

Gabe sat on the edge of the tub. I’m playing it by ear. Friends can have dinner together. How many times have we done this?

I don’t think us eating slop out of tin dishes in the middle of the desert is comparable. Ask her to invite Rosie, and then I’ll come over to chaperone you. I’ll borrow your truck.

Gabe grinned. You know better than to touch my truck. And if Rosie was here, you wouldn’t notice if Lori and I started making out next to you. I’ll think about you all while I’m eating homemade lasagna.

Asshole.

Gabe smiled and slipped her phone back in her pocket before she headed to the kitchen. Lori pressed a chilled-to-perfection bottle of beer into her hand with practiced ease, making it impossible not to imagine the same scenario each night after a hard day’s work at the garage.

“I figured one beer would be okay with a heavy meal since you’re driving,” Lori said and pushed a dish of olives and cheese bites on the kitchen counter toward Gabe. “I’ve had a snack and now I have alcohol; lay the bad news on me.”

Gabe touched her bottle to Lori’s wine glass then took a long pull and savored its flavor for a moment before answering. “Am I easing you into this? Or?—”

“Rip the Band-Aid off, Gabe. I have a feeling a spoonful of sugar won’t help one iota.”

“The cam belt snapped, and your engine is toast,” Gabe said. “The truck itself is sound though, so I’d recommend a new engine rather than a whole new trailer. I checked a few of our suppliers, and we could source one for just over three thousand.”

Lori didn’t seem to be affected by the news or the price, but Gabe supposed these kinds of hits came all the time running a large business like the Sanctuary.

“Okay.” Lori took a deep breath. “What about the labor? How long would it take you to fit the new engine?”

Gabe hadn’t made assumptions, so it made her seriously happy for Lori to want her to do the work. “It should take us about five hours if we don’t hit any snags. Ten at most.”

“And what’s your hourly rate?”

“One ten, but?—”

“No.” Lori shook her head. “No buts. You’re doing enough for me and the Sanctuary with the rust bucket and the money your TikTok intervention raised.”

The look that Lori shot Gabe made it clear she wouldn’t be convinced to change her mind, and the team would appreciate the work, so she didn’t press. “It won’t be so much of a rust bucket by the end of the week. RB and Solo will have it stripped down by the end of this week. There won’t be an oxidized metal spot in sight.”

“While I was waiting for you to pick me up, I called Mom to let her know that we could make the auction a little earlier than planned,” Lori said. “She just texted to say she’s booked the Regina Park for September 14; is that too early?”

Gabe shook her head. “We think we’ll be finished by the end of next month.”

Lori smiled widely. “That’ll be a wonderful birthday gift, and there’s a nice symmetry to it. I get to start my life again on the day I was born.”

“When’s your birthday?”

“August 21.”

Gabe nibbled the inside of her lip, deciding whether or not to ask the question that prompted.

“Did you want to ask something?”

Gabe frowned and leaned back against the kitchen island. “How are you doing that? It’s like you can read my thoughts.” Which would be a bad, bad thing.

Lori shrugged. “It seems like you’re an open book. Are you not?”

“Not to anyone else. Except Shay, but she’s known me for nearly twenty years.”

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