Page 11 of The Mechanic's Secret Santa

“Thanks, Piper!”

The second location is on the opposite end of downtown, six blocks from the main store. It was once an old furniture store that was converted into a restaurant. The last few years, several different types of businesses have taken up temporary residence. None of them needed the commercial kitchen or loading dock. But no one decided to remodel those into something else, either.

I back up to a loading door and hop out of the truck to unlock the main door beside it. The garage door needs to be replaced—something a small business loan could definitely help me achieve—but for now, it opens manually if given enough muscling into submission.

Unfortunately, I seem a little short on strength tonight because it takes me an embarrassingly long time to wrestle the door open a mere three feet.

“It’ll have to do.”

I hurry to open the back of the truck, desperate to get these boxes inside before I’m caught. But the latch won’t open.

“That’s weird.”

It’s now that I notice the truck is no longer running.

But when I try to open the driver’s side door and find it locked too, my heart sinks clear into my toes.

I nearly fall on my ass running to the passenger’s side door only to discover it’s locked as well. Through the quickly frosting window, I notice the keys dangling from the ignition. Mocking me. No matter how many times I try to yank open any of the doors, it’s no use. I’m locked out.

A loud bang causes me to jump and nearly slip on a patch of ice. I catch myself on the side mirror and regain my footing. My heart pounds as I round the truck and discover the garage door I muscled open is now closed.

A chatter of laughter down the street causes my throat to close up. What if Mom is having dinner just down the street andwalksby? I’m so close to having the bakery beallmine. I can’t risk her—or anyone else that might tell her—catching me here.

My desperation leads me to make a very stupid decision.

I text Aaron.

Chapter Six

AARON

I stare at the email from Benson Motorsports with disbelief. Though I had the opportunity to be a car chief for one of the most legendary drivers in NASCAR history, my goal as a mechanic had always been to be on the Benson Motorsports team.

Now the offer I’ve dreamed of receiving since I was fourteen years old is sitting in my inbox.

Fuck.

Itistempting.

Way more tempting than I’d like to admit.

“No,” I say, closing the laptop on my kitchen counter. Since Meg cancelled our date to go drive around and look at Christmas lights, I planned to focus on the engine rebuild. I know Meg is scared of how very real things are becoming between us. Some space might give her a little perspective.

And if that doesn’t work, we have brunch with Kendra tomorrow.

I grab a beer from the fridge, but before I can head back downstairs to the shop, my phone chimes.

Meg:Fake Boyfriend, I need you.

“Well, well, well.”

Meg:Don’t get smug. My delivery truck broke down. It’s a 911.

Aaron:Where are you at?

Meg:It’s a secret.

Aaron:I can’t help you if you don’t tell me how to find you.

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