Page 15 of For the Record

“Desmarais?” Abi wondered, excitement now in her eyes.

“Yeah, you know it? She gave me this after I changed her tire.” McCoy pulled her wallet from her denims, fishing the coupon out for Abi to examine.

As Abi scanned the contents, her smile widened. Their gazes met. “Coy, we’re gonna have fun with this.”

“Are you getting out sometime today, or …?” Sawyer asked the following morning, standing outside McCoy’s Jeep with her arms crossed. One eyebrow went up in a“Well, are you?”notion before she turned and headed for the garage. Coy stared at the captivating sway of Sawyer’s hips as she walked. This morning, she had dressed in a black hoodie and a sexy pair of matching running shorts that once again showed off enough leg to seriously question Coy’s choices. What was she doing here after Sawyer had all but tossed her to the curb the week before? Was she that much of a masochist?

No, it was all about earning extra money to help her nana out. Well, that and the exotic beauty of a supercar sitting in Sawyer’s garage. Coy was a mechanic and car lover; slipping hints of Coy possibly getting the chance to not only see one of the rare McLaren P1s up close but that she might actually get to rebuild one was practically catnip to car enthusiasts everywhere.

“Well, Tegan girl, wish me luck,” Coy whispered, giving her first love an affectionate rub on the dash as she hopped out. As she noticed Sawyer standing inside the spacious garage with her arms crossed, the heady rush of anticipation that coiled Coy’s stomach was new.

“Is this her?” Coy blurted out as she approached Sawyer. She was rocking back on her heels, brimming with excitement as she eyed the car hidden underneath a black covering. She grinned sheepishly, sending a quick prayer above to keep her cool this time around. For some reason, she couldn’t stop becoming a bumbling idiot when she was within touching distance of the older woman.

“Her?” Sawyer deadpanned, casting Coy a speculative glance. She gestured to the car hidden underneath the covering. “Undresshergently, or you’ll get hurt.”

An awkward laugh escaped Coy. Maybe she had a sense of humor after all? “Sure thing,” she agreed, giddily closing in on the McLaren. She glanced at Sawyer over her shoulder, and for a moment, she was thrown off by the brief look of pain on her face. Coy reached for the car’s covering, pulling out the stretch elastic along the edges and filling the silence as she went. “Did you know there were only three hundred seventy-five P1ss ever made? In 2013, the advanced technology that went into this type of supercar was ahead of its time. Of course, now, other companies have followed suit and have been more than successful recreating the best parts of the P1 and making them their own.”

“You sound like my husband.”

Coy froze, canting her head Sawyer’s way. Disappointment settled over her. “Husband?”

Of course,a beautiful, driven woman like Sawyer would have a husband. She probably had kids, too.Maybe that’s why she’s in the closet.

Sawyer turned away, rubbing her arms as if she were cold, and Coy would have stopped what she was doing if she thought Sawyer would be accepting of a hug. She didn’t, and as she began pulling off the cover, she heard bitterness in Sawyer’s husky voice. “Yes, except he would never believe there was a better car out there than his precious McLaren. He was anesti d’cave.”

“What the actual fuck?”

Coy’s eyes bugged out as she revealed the supercar. The rapid tic in her throat felt like she was uncovering a corpse, not a car, and she hadn’t quite reached the midway point when she stumbled backwards. “Is that blood?”

“Olivier’s, yes.”

Coy jumped at the sound of Sawyer’s voice so close behind her. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled, and she couldn’t look away from the caved in windshield and driver’s seat for the life of her.

“I-I don’t understand. Y-you want me to rebuildthis?”

Sawyer clasped her hands together, watching Coy. She took a step closer, and Coy took an exaggerated step back until she was pressed against the tool chest. Sawyer’s chuckle was dry, humorless. “I didn’t kill him, if that’s what you’re thinking. What I really want to know is, are you capable of rebuilding a car like this?”

“I … I am, yes, but …” Coy trailed off, trying to understand what the hell was going on. “Why would you want to … Wait, is your husband still alive?”

“No, I’m afraid not.”

The disassociation in Sawyer’s voice gave Coy chills. She darted her gaze back and forth between the car and the woman staring back at her. Sawyer seemed a lot less shaken than she should have been, considering. That was Coy’s unprofessional opinion, of course.Shefelt like she might lose the breakfast sandwich she’d eaten before her arrival.

“Y-yet you want me to rebuild it? Sawyer, did he die in this car?”

Sawyer waved her hand as if the question was inconsequential. “Yes. I’ve been wanting it rebuilt for some time but haven’t found anyone worth hiring. Until you.”

“Worth” hiring? Coy didn’t believe that for a second. It felt an awful lot like Sawyer had a vendetta against Coy, and setting her in front of her poor husband’s deathmobile was a payback of sorts. For what, she didn’t know. Surely a little harmless flirting wasn’t the equivalent of scaring the bejeezus out of someone?

Coy’s head was spinning. She chanced another look at the car again. One entire side of the car would need to be rebuilt. Two of the tires were twisted off, the engine likely a goner. And she wasn’t entirely convinced of Sawyer’s sanity. Coy had gotten involved before with a lesbian that hadn’t been a hundred percent, and let’s just say it wasn’t something she was eager to have a repeat of. “Um, like, my mind is blown right now. Can we maybe talk about this outside?”

Coy all but ran out into the fresh air, taking long pulls of fresh air into her lungs. She wasn’t being blasé at all, which was embarrassing, but she couldn’t help it. Something about this whole thing seemed off.

“You seem troubled, McCoy.”

Coy stopped pacing and turned to look at Sawyer, at her calm features. Coy’s hands rubbed the back of her neck as she stood there, not knowing what to think. “Sawyer, I’ve rebuilt cars before, even ones from accidents, but none where a person died in it. They send those cars to the junkyard.”

“And I want this one rebuilt to its former glory. I won’t stand here and rehash all the reasons with you, McCoy,” Sawyer bit out, setting her cold eyes on McCoy. “I have money, lots of it. If you’re up to the task, you’ll be paid handsomely for it.”

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