“They’re like puppies with you.”
“You didn’t know that. For all you knew, you were about to be mauled.” She laid her palm on his chest, right over his heart. She didn’t know why she did that, but it felt right. “Color me impressed to heck and gone. Thank you.”
He looked away, and his heart beat faster against her hand, but she leaned around and caught his eyes with hers and held on. “Seriously, thank you.”
“De nada.Maybe mention it to your father. He got a funny look on his face when I told himyoustepped in front ofmeat the Cantina that day.”
She raised her brows. “What do you care what my dad thinks about you?” And then it occurred to her why he might care what her dad thought about him. Maybe he was feeling a rising tide of something for her, like she was for him. The notion startled her so much she stumbled backward, pulling her hand off his chest, but she tripped over a stray carburetor. Harry grabbed her by both arms. “Whoa, easy there.”
She got her balance. “Th-thanks.” Then she looked at him. She’d been doing a lot of that. She liked his face. She could spend a lot of time looking at that face.
Harry seemed to realize he still had his hands on her outer arms, and that they were standing pretty close to each other. Like they were about to kiss or something.
She really wanted to kiss him.
He let go, took a step back and the moment ended, but her head was spinning. Gosh, she’d only just jilted Billy Bobyesterday, and all of a sudden all she wanted to do was make out with Harry.
“Y’all’re here ’bout the Volvo, yeah?” Jimmy asked. He’d finally made his way to where they stood. The dogs were wandering on their own.
“Yes,” Harry said. “It’s blue, ten years old, and?—”
Jimmy turned and pointed. They both looked.
Harry’s little blue car was nose-down, at the bottom of a steep drop from the road, pretty close to where they’d been standing, surveying the place minutes ago.
“My car,” Harry said. “Oh, man, Ol’ Blue.”
“Really?” Maria asked, secretly delighted. “My mamma had a dog called Ol’ Blue when she was growing up. Blue Boy, at the ranch, is his great grandson.” She smiled into his eyes, and felt something there, for sure.
“Deputy Willa’s fixin’ to meet y’all here,” Jimmy said. “She said not to put a finger on it ’til she does.”
“How did it get there like that?” Maria asked. “It looks like somebody pushed it right over the edge.”
“That’s just what somebody did,” Jimmy said.
That seemed to snap Harry out of his stunned stare. “How do you know?”
“Tire tracks up top tell the story, plain as day. I figured that’s what y’all were lookin’ at up there.”
“Ah, hell.” Harry stared at the car for a full minute, and just when Maria was about to ask if he was okay, he shook his head like a wet dog and said, “It might still be inside.” He headed through the car maze, toward his gravity-defying hatchback.
“How is it staying up on end like that?” Maria asked.
“There’s a stack behind it,” Jimmy said. “G’on, you best git after him. Deputy Willa’ll be along.”
Harrison stood beside his car, trying to figure the best way to get inside. It stood nose-down, tilted slightly, leaning against a flattened stack of vehicles. The rear tires rested against the stack, but the whole situation was unstable. One wrong move could send it crashing down. But he had to know.
The impact had been so hard the rear hatch had popped open. Or maybe it had been open already before the car was pushed. Maybe it had been opened because the car-thief had opened it, and reached in, and stolen the tackle box and his entire life’s work.
He had to decide something soon. Maria would be along any minute, and so would her cousin the deputy, who’d left explicit instructions not to touch the car. He decided he could get the best view inside the car from the top of that multi-colored flattened vehicle pancake stack. He went to it, shoved it with his hands to see how wobbly it was. Not wobbly at all, but warm to the touch in the hot sun. He gripped a rusted yellow edge and started to climb.
When he reached the top of the stack, he looked down at his car. Its nose was on the ground, and its back-end was held up by the stack of flattened cars he had climbed. From the top, he could look right down into the open hatch.
Maria cried, “Jeeze, Harry, what’re you doin’ up there?”
“It’s fine, I’m not touching anything. See?” He held up his hands, turned them back and front. “I can see my duffel in there. Everything I packed for this trip.”
“Mine’s on the ground over yonder,” she said pointing. “Must’ve flown out. Can you see the tackle box?”