Page 31 of Twins for the Mountain Daddies

The mechanic's shop is small, a bell chiming overhead as we enter. Grease stains mark the concrete floor like battle scars. The mechanic's not around, but his daughter is, her ponytail swaying as she looks up from behind the counter. She squints at me, a flicker of recognition in her blue eyes.

My stomach knots. She knows me. Or at least, she thinks she does.

I brace for it—for the widened eyes, the gasp, the frantic grab for a phone. My pulse pounds as I wait for my name to tumble from her lips, for the inevitable shift in the air that always follows.

Instead, she just…squints. Like she’s trying to place me but can’t quite pin it down. Then, with a little shrug, she flashes me a bright, easy smile.

“Cute jacket,” she says, leaning on the counter. “You look like one of those rich ski girls from the magazines—but, like, in a good way.”

I blink, my breath catching. That’s it? No cameras, no whispers, no prying questions? Just a compliment?

Relief floods my body so fast it makes me dizzy. I let out a breathy laugh, pressing a hand to my waist like that’ll keep me steady. “Uh, thanks.”

Her grin widens. “Seriously. You could be in one of those ‘mountain chic’ Pinterest boards. Love the boots.”

The tension in my shoulders eases, the edges of my panic smoothing out.

“Hey, Wyatt.”

“Lily. Making trouble as usual?”

“Excuse me, sir. I am an angel.”

Wyatt snorts at Lily’s comment, shaking his head. “Angel, huh? That why Mason’s always looking stressed?”

Lily grins, entirely unbothered. “He’s stressed because he doesn’t hydrate. I keep telling him, drink more water, Dad. But does he listen?” She tosses her ponytail. “No.”

"Hi, Lily, I'm Ivy. Um, Hank had my car towed down here during the storm.”

"Nice to meet you, Ivy." She turns to the computer, fingers tapping keys with a rhythm that says she's done this a thousand times. "Yup. I see it. Let me just grab my dad."

With that, she spins on her heel and heads toward the back, disappearing through a door marked “Employees Only”.

A moment later, heavy footsteps sound from the hallway, and then the mechanic, Mason apparently, appears. He’s tall and broad-shouldered, with a strength built from years of working with his hands. He’s handsome too, in a rugged sort of way. Even if Wyatt hadn’t said his name, I’d know it. It’s printed on the patch sewn on his chest.

His sharp brown eyes flick to Wyatt first, then me. “Hey, man.” He clasps Wyatt’s hand in a firm shake. “You finally bringing me a decent customer?”

Wyatt smirks. “Wouldn’t go that far.”

I step forward, offering a small smile. “Ivy. Hank had my car towed here during the storm.”

“Ah, right.” Mason nods, motioning for us to follow. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

He leads us through the garage, weaving between tool carts and half-disassembled engines until we step into the back lot. My car sits there, looking worse for wear under the gray morning light.

Mason folds his arms over his chest. “So, here’s the deal. Running off the road did more than just scrape up your bumper. Alignment’s shot, there’s some undercarriage damage, and one of your axles took a hit. It’s all fixable, but…” He sighs, rubbing a hand over his stubbled jaw. “The parts we need? They’re not exactly in stock. Your car is a little too foreign for these parts. Nearest shop that carries them is halfway across the country, and even then, they’re back-ordered. We’re looking at weeks, not days.”

"Weeks?" The word falls flat as I say it.

I glance at Wyatt, but his expression is unreadable. Mason shifts, giving me an apologetic look. “I know it’s not what you wanna hear, but I’d rather be straight with you. I can patch a couple things up in the meantime, but it’s not gonna be road-ready anytime soon.”

"We'll figure it out," Wyatt chimes in, a solid presence at my side. His hand finds the small of my back, reassuring me. I draw a breath, looking at the mountains through the grimy window.

"Guess I'm not going anywhere fast," I murmur to myself, and maybe to them.

“Let’s head to the coffee shop. They have the best internet connection in town. I know you’re dying to reconnect to the real world.”

I don’t have words; I think I’m still in shock. So, I simply nod and follow Wyatt out of the mechanic’s garage and down the street to a cute little bistro.

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