Page 16 of The Woman in the Garage

The salesman gave me a nod, letting me know he got the information.

“Sounds nice,” I said, taking back my credit card. “Ready to head out?”

“Wait, I have to pay for my lamp,” she said.

“It’s taken care of,” the salesman said, and I got to watch Dasha’s confusion turn to understanding, and then a big smile shot in my direction.

And, damn, if that didn’t feel like a punch to the chest.

“Think of it as a housewarming gift,” I told her as I held the door open.

“The only one I’ve gotten,” she admitted.

“No friends or family around here?”

“No. My mom passed when I was young. My father lives abroad with his… fifth wife.”

“Wow.”

“That came off a little snarkier than I meant it. We’re not close, but there are no hard feelings either.”

“Were you close with your uncle then?”

“Phil?” she asked as I turned the car over. “No, actually. I only remember him from one summer when I was seven. Rightafter my mom died. My dad… spiraled. Uncle Phil stepped up when child services got involved.

“But after that, well, I didn’t know how to keep in touch when my father took me to the other coast. I should have tried harder when I got older…”

“Teens are notoriously shitty about keeping in touch with families. My mom had to always be on my ass to keep me showing up to family functions. I wanted to be out with friends. Or, let’s face it, girls.” To that, her smile went a little tight. “But it seems like your uncle understood, since he left everything to you.”

“I hope so,” she agreed, running her finger over the feet of the bunny lamp and gave me a couple of directions toward her place.

She was right; it was a charming little dead-end road featuring only four ranches in slightly different styles, but all having the classic picture windows out front and the single garage door.

“It’s that one,” Dasha said, pointing toward the one just to the side of the dead end; the one with the cement driveway that was spiderweb cracked, allowing some little weeds to creep through. “I know,” she said as I pulled in the drive. “It needs some serious TLC. But it has pretty good bones.”

“Just needs some curb appeal. A couple of shrubs and flowers… maybe paint that hideous puke-green front door…”

“Right? What was he thinking?” she asked, wrinkling her nose. “I would invite you in, but it’s a complete disaster.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. You probably shouldn’t be inviting strange men into your place anyway,” I added with a shrug.

“True. Thanks so much for the ride. And my lamp. It is going to be very well loved.”

“No problem. I’ll see you next week,” I said.

“Looking forward to it,” she said with such a genuine smile that I almost wanted to break our contract with the shop, just so I didn’t have to ruin her opinion of me, make her fear me in any way.

But that wasn’t my call.

So I spent the next week trying to find a way to approach her about it so she didn’t fucking hate me forever.

CHAPTER FIVE

Dasha

“Hey, where’s the paperwork for that crossover?” I asked, walking out of my office when I saw it no longer in one of the bays.

“Ren?” David asked when no one answered me.

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