Page 13 of The Woman in the Garage

To that, she exhaled hard.

“Yes. Started making a weird sound, then got really shaky. And when I pulled over and shut it off, it wouldn’t turn back on.”

“You waiting for the tow?”

“Yeah,” she said. “It’s been almost an hour.”

“You’d think being the boss would get you preferential treatment.”

“Oh, uh, I didn’t call my shop,” she admitted, gaze sliding away, uncomfortable.

“Giving you a hard time, huh?” I asked, leaning against the trunk with her.

“They hated me the second they saw me,” she admitted. “I’m assuming it’s a… woman thing. And maybe a young thing. But it just felt easier to call another shop. I don’t really want people who don’t like me working on my car.”

That was darker than I’d expected.

Did she really think her own crew would fuck with her car?

“I’m half-tempted to go to school for mechanics just to prove that I can be their boss,” she admitted as I really tried not to notice the way her perfect breasts were doing a small amount of spilling out of the square-cut bodice of her dress.

“Don’t think assholes like them will care how qualified you are,” I said.

I knew a thing or two about difficult men. Our Family had dealt with all sorts of dickheads over the years. Some just wanted to keep pushing that line to see if it moved. And if it did, even an inch, you were fucked. They would never stop.

I imagined that it was doubly difficult for women as a whole and even more so for a woman in a male-centered field.

“You’re probably right,” she agreed.

Her light was a little dimmer than it had been the day before. It pissed me off that those guys at her shop might be the reason for it.

“Oh, finally,” she said, seeing a tow truck slowing alongside us. “Hey!” she said, turning to give the guy who climbed out of the truck another of her megawatt smiles.

I waited as she talked to the guy while he fiddled under the hood of her car for a minute before slamming it and seeming to declare he had to take it.

“You want a ride, sweetheart?” I asked as she reached in her open window to grab her purse.

“Oh, well, he offered to bring me to the shop,” she said, waving to the tow truck guy.

“To the shop. Where that car is gonna sit until sometime tomorrow, since no shops around in town are open right now.”

“He’s not wrong,” the driver said, shrugging.

“Oh, right,” she said, pursing those pretty lips of hers. “Well, um, okay.” She gave me another smile. “If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. Do you need to get anything out of the car?” I asked, seeing it was jam-packed with crap in the backseat.

“Oh, no. I was on the way to bring all that to the Re-Store, actually. My uncle was a bit of a packrat,” she explained, turning to watch as her car was pulled up on the bed of the tow truck.

“We have your number,” he said when he was done. “I’ll give you a call tomorrow.”

“Great. Thanks so much,” she said, giving him another smile, then watching him walk away.

“Shall we?” I asked, holding a hand out toward the passenger door.

“Yes, thank you.”

I opened her door for her, waited for her to slide in, then closed it.

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