Page 29 of Too Close To Call

With one brow cocked, Kimberly doesn’t pull any punches. “We also know that your daughter looks like a Murphy, but isn’t. Or so you claim. Have you ever had a DNA test to prove it?”

Wow, the inquisition just got uncomfortable. I’m not going to explain how I know who the father of my child is. The only time I’ve ever had sex without a condom was with Ryan. I shift in my seat nervously. I settle on the “nothing but the truth.” “You know a lot. But do you know that I’ve loved Case since I was fifteen? Do you know I hate myself for sending him away after dad’s death? And that I also hated hurting him again when he found out about Daisy? Do you know that I would do anything to turn back the clock for a do-over that would end differently? Do you know that I blame myself for Case giving up racing every single day? And…” My voice breaks. “Do you know that I would do anything to have Case be Daisy’s father?Anything.”

I look up and I’m not the only one with tears in my eyes.

Jen places the remaining piece of doughnut on a napkin and dabs at her eyes with another napkin. She sighs heavily and then grins. “We really wanted to not like you because you hurt Case,” she admits and brushes away a few tears.

Shyanne reaches over and squeezes my hand. “We never realized you still love him.”

Kimberly digs around in a diaper bag and pulls out a burping cloth and wipes her eyes. “Your invitation to Book Chicks is back on.”

I chuckle and wipe away a few stray tears myself. “Whew, I was worried. I’ve heard such good things about the meetings.”

With the doughnut now gone, Jen grabs a Danish from the pastry box and lowers her voice when she asks, “So… how are we going to fix this and reunite you and Case?”

I rub my neck, from the crick I developed at the swift about-face. “Wearen’t going to do anything.I,however, am going to do all I can. I don’t need help with this one, ladies. I just need a miracle.”

I see them eyeing me and then each other. If I were a gambling woman, I would bet that their sticky handprints are going to be all over me and Case getting back together.

* * *

“Did you check the alternator?” Axel asks.

Paul gives a frustrated groan. “Yes. I’ve taken everything out and put it back in, and the rattle is still there.”

Axel chews his lip in thought and then asks, “Well, did you check the gearbox?”

Paul throws up his hands in irritation. “I’m telling you, I took it apart three times and each time I put it back together, the rattle is still there.”

I flatten myself against the wall just outside a garage bay as I watch and listen in on the guys. Paul and Axel are standing around a mint Pontiac Firebird as I eavesdrop on their conversation. It sounds suspiciously like a problem we had with a Corvette a few years back.

Stepping in the room, my unexpected presence causes the guys to look up. So far, I’ve kept to my space and haven’t invaded theirs. I get that a lot of men don’t like women in their garages. That’s a stupid, antiquated idea that fortunately is changing. “That’s a great bird you’ve got there. A ’78, if I had to guess.”

Paul nods and I take another look at the car. “Second generation model that was built from 1970 to ‘78. Did you know they changed the headlights? They replaced the four circular headlights like on the first gen with two larger ones. It wasn’t only for aesthetics, but because they added two rad air intakes. They also offered four configurations for the engine. Top speed at the time was a whopping 100 mph.”

“Are you trying to impress us?” Paul asks.

I grin. “Is it working?”

Both men shrug, unimpressed. My shoulders fall dramatically. “Come on, not even the thing about the headlights?”

Both guys chuckle. “Sorry, sweetheart, anybody can spout off specs. And besides, we know whose daughter you are.”

These guys are ruggedly handsome. Axel is covered in tattoos, at least six foot-two or three, with long black hair that’s pulled into a low and sloppy ponytail. He has the bad boy, biker vibe down to perfection. Paul is not quite as tall as Axel, but he has these blue eyes that draw a person in. And if the eyes don’t do it, his fit and muscular physique certainly will. I’m sure they have no problem with the ladies.

Other than the first day when Paul laid down the law about not hurting Case again, they have been nothing but distantly polite. It’s only been a week and a half, but I miss the camaraderie with the guys back home.

“Wait,” I say when they start to walk away. “What if I know how to fix your rattle? Would that do it?”

Axel snickers. “Paul here would probably buy you dinner if you fixed the rattle.”

Score!

I open the passenger door and slide into the black leather seat. I pop the ashtray open, squeeze the two side pins to remove it, and then collect the three pennies, one nickel, a dime, and a quarter from beneath the tray. Then I pop the ashtray back in and my work is done.

Climbing out of the Firebird, I drop the change into Paul’s large, greasy palm and dust my hands off for a job well done. The astonished look of pure disbelief on their faces makes me laugh out loud.

“What the fuck!” Paul shouts and closes his fist around the coins.

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