“Exactly,” Suzie said, ruffling Ava’s hair. “Now come on, let’s hit the mat.”
As the two of them walked out of the garage, I turned my attention back to the car, my mind still churning. I picked up the paint remover and grabbed a new brush. If I couldn’t show Ava I could be a hero fighting fires, then at least I could take her to Disney World. Just as long as I got these damn pinstripes done.
“Right,” I said. “Time to make some magic happen.”
Just then, the roar of an engine cut through the quiet afternoon. I looked up to see a car speeding toward the garage, black and purple and menacing. Going way too fast for Bluehaven Beach’s sleepy streets.
“Is tha—” I muttered, but my words were cut off by the sound of screeching tires and a thunderous crash.
Chapter 3
Lily
Adeer. An actual,living, breathing deer.
I was nearly at Ethan’s auto shop, ready to sell this ridiculous car and recoup some of the money I’d squandered on my useless fiancé, when a deer stepped right in front of me.
For a moment, time seemed to slow. The deer’s sleek form was bathed in the golden glow of the late afternoon sun as it turned its head to look at me.
“It’s a sign,” I whispered, despite myself.
Then, reality came crashing back. I shoved on the brakes, praying that the crappy car would respond in time.
What happened next was a blur of screeching of brakes and burning rubber. The car skidded and swerved as I fought to avoid flattening the majestic—but very stupid—animal.
I did avoid it. I know that much because I watched its fluffy white butt prance away from me as I careened off the road, before smashing through a wooden fence straight into the open garage door of McMoy’s Motors.
The impact was jarring. Shockwaves rippled through my body as the airbag deployed with a deafening bang. For a moment, I sat there, stunned and disoriented, ears ringing and heart pounding. A haze of white dust hung in the air.
Then, dazed, I muttered, “I didn’t know classic cars had airbags.”
I rubbed the dust off my glasses and tried to figure out what was what. The hood of my car was crushed up against the hood of another car. A red one, which my car had sliced up like sushi.
I’d crashed into it. First, a car-crash wedding. And now, an actual car crash.
With shaking hands, I fumbled for the door handle, stumbling out of the car on unsteady legs. My dress was somehow torn, and the once-black garment was now covered with white airbag powder. At least now it looked a little more like the kind of dress I might have chosen.
“Hello?” I called out.
For a second, a horrific thought entered my mind, and I looked under the car, but there was nobody there. Dazed, I blinked and tried to focus. The garage swam into view—a cavernous space filled with the acrid smell of oil and rubber. Tools hung neatly on pegboards, and half-finished projects lurked in shadowy corners. The crash had stirred up years of settled dust, creating a hazy, dreamlike atmosphere.
And then a shadow fell over me.
Startled, I looked up to see blazing bright blue eyes fixed on me.
Ethan McCoy.
All six-foot-two of him.
His mouth hung open, his expression one of complete astonishment.
“Oh god,” I said. “I’m so sorry.”
Ethan took a step toward me. His broad shoulders tensed, muscles rippling under his paint-streaked t-shirt. Calmly, he asked, “Lily? What happened? Are you all right?” His eyes raked up and down me, lingering for a moment on my dress. His gaze flicked back to the car. “Thank god I retrofitted that thing with airbags.”
I took a shaky breath, trying to compose myself. “I . . . I don’t know,” I admitted, my voice trembling. “I was coming here to sell my clown car back to you and then I swerved to avoid a deer . . .” I gestured helplessly at the wreckage around us.
Ethan’s gaze followed my hand. His sharp jawline clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek, as he took in the crumpled fender of Vlad’s car and the deep gash in the red car’s bonnet. Ethan was always hard to read. I saw a flicker of something in his eyes—anger, perhaps, or frustration—but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a gentle understanding.