Page 112 of Ice Mechanic

“Hold still.” I gently but firmly guide her head straight and gather all her hair into my grip. Tongue sticking out in concentration, I make one loop with the clip and then another. After that, I half it and secure the base so there’s a bun at the end and a plume of hair sticking up like a feather.

“There.” I turn her around and inspect my work with pride. “You won’t have hair in your face anymore. This held up under three hours of drill training.”

“Thanks,” she says, inspecting the bun with amusement.

Her eyes slowly track past me to the crowd that’s waiting outside. More fans seem to have gathered and they’re staring into the garage. Some even have their phones out.

She gnaws on her bottom lip. “Do they want to complain about the wait too?”

“Uh, no. They want pictures with me.”

Her entire body sags with relief and the desire to hug her wells so strong that my arms ache.

“Pictures are a good idea.” Her voice has a thoughtful note. “Maybe fan service will improve their mood and make them forget the long wait.”

“It probably would.”

“Do you mind?” She gives me a sheepish look.

Doesn’t she know that I’d give her the world if she asked? This is nothing.

“No, I don’t mind. I can even play field hockey with them if you think that’ll help.”

She laughs softly. “There are so many cars out there, we won’t have space for you to play field hockey.”

Oof. If I wasn’t sure before—which I totally was—seeing April smile cements how much I like her.

Rebel’s voice cuts in. “Hey, Mr. Hockey Player! Get away from our star mechanic! She has no time for the likes of you!”

Guilt streaks across April’s face and she hurries back to work.

Outside, the crowd welcomes my return with applause and overlapping compliments. I give each individual my undivided attention.

It’s a strategy that works. Despite the long wait, everyone is all smiles by the time they leave.

I head back into the garage to cool off. After taking what feels like a million photos, my cheeks are aching and I’m pretty sure my bottom lip has a bit of a spasm.

April looks up and back down again quickly. “Was itthatexhausting?”

I shake my head. I can’t compare my state to hers. She’s been powering through this crisis like a champ.

A bike bell rings in the distance. A second later, May’s footsteps rush through the building.

“I’m here!” May coos, bringing a bright smile and fresh energy to the frantic garage. “Oh, hey, brother-in-law.”

“Sister-in-law.” I grin. I’ve always liked how clearly May can read a room.

“Don’t start with that,” April warns.

Rebel strides close to us, dabbing at the sweat on her face with a pink handkerchief. “Great, May, you’re here. I need you to type out these order forms and organize these part requests.” She drops a stack of documents into May’s arms. “I’ve been tied up with office work all morning and I’m itching to get my hands dirty.” Rebel pauses. “Metaphorically of course.”

“Ay-ay, captain.” May carries her workload to a desk.

Rebel takes command of a car on the opposite end of the garage, so I sidle close to April.

“Need some help?”

She glances up, eyebrows tightening into a V. She looks so disoriented that, for a second, it seems she doesn’t recognize me. Finally, her eyes clear and she shakes her head. “No, you’ve done enough. Thanks, Chance.”

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