Page 8 of For the Record

Yeahhh. Coy was done. She nodded once, before leaving him in the parking lot. She headed straight for her father, who presently had a Nissan hooked up to diagnostics, and dumped the clipboard onto his lap. “Here, he wants someone else. I’m going for lunch.” Not bothering to wait for a reply, Coy grabbed her keys and jacket from the office and headed back out into the rain.

Coy decided to take the scenic route to Denny’s since she was earlier than planned, texting Abi before leaving that she was still good to meet her. She should have anticipated the lagging traffic on the No. 2 bridge, but the frustration of her last customer plagued her. As a queer woman, working in a male-dominated field had its ups and downs. Thankfully, working for her father curbed most of what Coy imagined others dealt with daily, but not all. The backward thinking of the occasional cis man made her want to throw a fit and shake them down from their holier-than-thou pedestal. And Troy wasnothingcompared to some that showed up at the shop. Some guys, even the younger generation, were downright ignorant towards her.

“Ah, damn,” Coy muttered, taking in the traffic accident cleanup ahead of her on the Sea Island Way bridge. Vehicles were lined up at least one football field length in front of Tegan, her Jeep Wrangler, waiting for the flagger to give the okay. “Damnit,” she repeated, annoyed with her luck so far that morning. When it rained on her parade, it sure as hell poured.Coy squinted at the fat raindrops rapidly hitting her windshield as her wipers tried hard to keep up. At this rate, she’d be lucky if she arrived for lunch on time, let alone early. She tapped her fingers impatiently against Tegan’s steering wheel, trying to lose herself in G Flip’s vocals blaring through her headphones. Tegan was an older model Wrangler, complete with a CD player and not much else on the interior, but she had taken Coy on some of the best rides of her life.

With Sloane riding shotgun, they’d been all over B.C. with Tegan, taking narrow back roads and muddy off-road trails. Coy had fine-tuned Tegan’s exterior in so many ways, starting with a hard/soft top conversion kit years ago. Since then, she’d upgraded to larger tires with better traction and a bull bar and skid plate for off-roading adventures. Coy and Sloane had driven up the hardest trails in the province through the summer and again in the winter just to see what Tegan could do.

The traffic was moving at a snail’s pace, and Coy debated if she should call Abi and cancel. But she was likely already on her way to Denny’s, taking an extended “work lunch” from her job at Cairns Corp. Coy was three blocks away from the Denny’s when she spotted a black Range Rover Sport pulled over on the side of the road. The tire on the left rear was flat and looked like it had been driven around for several blocks before stopping. The driver was getting back into the vehicle.

“Seriously? She’s probably gonna drive on the rims again.” Making a split decision to help, Coy flicked on her blinker and eased Tegan onto the street’s shoulder, parking in front of the Rover. Pocketing her keys, she sent Abi a quick update before hopping out. “Hey there,” she called out, waving at the blurry figure now sitting behind the wheel of the Rover. The rain wasn’t letting up, so it was probably a good thing she was back inside the dry vehicle. Coy reached the SUV, tapping lightly on the windowpane. “Looks like you could maybe use some help?”

The only part of the woman she could make out through the foggy window was the long black strands of wet hair. Coy took a step back, suddenly very aware of her grease-stained coveralls and the rain washing away her eyeliner. As the driver’s door began to open, she raised her hands in a non-threatening way and added, “I’m a mechanic. I don’t mind getting you fixed for takeoff again. If you want.”

One long, tantalizingly tanned leg played peek-a-boo with Coy seconds before the door was shoved open. Coy’s jaw went slack as a familiar scowling face moved dutifully from the vehicle. And just like the night at the warehouse, all Coy could do was stare.

“You’re a mechanic, you say? No kidding.” If the tone in the woman’s faint accent was any dryer, she’d sound almost robotic. She gave Coy an unimpressed once over, her sensual lips setting in a hard line. “I’ve already called roadside assistance; someone should be with me shortly.”

French. It was definitely a French accent, Coy decided, but not from France. Québec, perhaps? Coy’s body hummed in response, leaning forward of its own accord. A mixture of water and makeup trickled into her mouth as she replied, “There was an accident over on Sea Island Way. I saw two tow trucks loading the vehicles on, so it might be longer than you think.”

“How convenient for you, running to my rescue …McCoy.”

Ah, she remembers my name!

Coy’s morning was getting better already. And she would gladly listen to that delectable lilt all day and night if she could. The way the woman’s r’s rolled off her tongue had her wanting to taste them. Taste her. Fuck, and the way she pronounced Coy’s name had her fantasizing about doing a lot more than just tasting that sassy mouth. Coy tried like hell to tamp down the strange pinch of anxiety in her stomach, but a nervous laugh bubbled out, and then she was rambling, “That’s me, ma’am.Helpful McCoy. Super helpful, just like everyone’s friendly neighborhood—”

“Do not finish that.”

“Yes, ma’am.”Dude! What. Are. You. Doing?

“Quit it with the ma’am. My name is Sawyer,” she bit out, crossing her arms over her chest again. And then she tapped the toe of her high heel on the wet pavement, pulling the sleeve of her cardigan back to check her watch. “Well? Are you changing the tire or not? I’m late for a meeting.”

Coy held back her grin, enjoying Sawyer’s bossiness and little click of her heel. There was nothing she loved more than a dominant woman.

“Excuse me,” she husked, brushing past Sawyer to the driver’s door. A static tingle shot through Coy at their brief touch, and something between a sigh and a gasp left her lips. “Whoa, did you—” Catching the impatient roll of Sawyer’s magnetic eyes, Coy clamped her mouth shut again.

Okay then. She’s gonna reject that, too.

Gritting her teeth, Coy leaned into the Rover, turning the key over long enough to activate the tire suspension button. Once the light went off, she turned the car back off and checked that the brake was secure.

“Changing a tire is something everyone should learn,” Coy explained, meeting Sawyer’s gaze on her way to the vehicle’s trunk. She lifted the hatch, gesturing to the traffic whizzing past them. “It can be dangerous on the side of the road. It would have been better to pull into a parking lot first.”

“Think we can skip the lesson and just get on with it?”

Coy raised her eyebrow, slightly taken aback by the surliness in her tone. “I am ‘getting on with it.’ I can teach as I go.”

“I’d much rather you didn’t.”

Sawyer looked like a drowned rat standing there, her clothes inappropriate for the weather, but she had enough fire in herstormy gaze to make Coy feel like she was sitting before a blazing wood stove. She fished out her keys, offering them to Sawyer and trying to ignore how ridiculously breathless she was. “Why don’t you go sit in my rig? Beats standing in the rain.”

“I happen tolikethe rain.“ Sawyer stiffened, turning her nose up at Coy’s offer.

Coy shook her head, not knowing what her problem was, but pocketed her keys again. If Sawyer wanted to show up to her meeting looking like she’d showered in her clothes, then who was Coy to stop her? The stubborn woman should wear a raincoat or use an umbrella.

Aware of her beautiful, speculative audience, Coy uncovered the blocks and lug wrench from underneath the trunk floor. The spare tire was below the Rover, but the bolt keeping it in place was accessible through the trunk. Coy used the wrench to loosen it, feeling it give way after several rotations with the wrench. Next, she stuck a wedge block behind one of the front and rear tires to keep the SUV in place. She’d only worked on a couple Rovers before, so it took a minute to establish where it was safe to place the jack, but it was smooth sailing from there.

“So, what type of work do you do?” Coy wondered when the silence became unbearable. She was unusually nervous with Sawyer’s gaze on her, and for the first time in her life, she truly wanted to know the answer. She was suddenly dying to know everything.

“Why do you deem it necessary to constantly fill the silence with useless chatter?”

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