Page 9 of Mustang Summer

“I’m diggin’ it.”Especially now.So worth it to see the distaste in his eyes.“And after it was cut, I ate an entire pint of the premo ice cream.”

His eyes glowered and her old anger rose back up.All the times he chugged a beer while chiding her to back off the chips and salsa.Why had she stayed with him so long?

“There you are.”

Oh, yeah.That was why.

Her dad came into the garage from the house and she wanted to sigh.All those nice shirts she bought him and he wore the wife beaters.You know I don’t do that nice stuff, he’d groused.Because the pack of three tees for twenty bucks was too much of a splurge.

“Hey, Bill.I came to do the financials.”The legal ones.His one streak of chivalry was refusing to let her touchthosebooks.

Paunchy cheeks puffed out.He didn’t like her hair, either, but she was his one soft spot.She used to be such a daddy’s girl.Until he cut her off from mechanic duties.Then he became Bill.

Which also worked against her because his protective streak was racetrack wide.Exhibit one: Gage.

Bill sifted his thinning blond hair to the side.Shave it all, she’d urged, but he refused to.Said her mother had liked it long.

Little did he know, she’d talked her mom, bless her soul, into putting the clippers down when he’d been snoring in his recliner one afternoon.

“I gathered all of June’s financials into a folder for you.”

“Josie,” Gage piped up, “I’m grabbing lunch.What do you want?”

“Nothing.”Not from you.

“Baby doll, don’t be rude.”And it was Bill to Gage’s rescue.“That’s not how you treat a man who offers to buy you a meal.”

Gage smirked.“Turkey sandwich, on rye?”

“Sourdough,” she called over her shoulder as she headed to the office.“With a ton of mayo, and not the light stuff.”

“Mayo’s not good for your heart, Jo.Right, Bill?She’s gotta watch her ticker.”

Josie fisted her hands.If Gage wanted to win her back, he was heading in the opposite direction.But in her opinion, all roads were closed as far as she and Gage were concerned.

She popped her head out of the office to glare at Gage.“My heart is none of your business.”

Gage folded his arms and shrugged.“No, but it’s your dad’s.”

Bill shot her that look, the one she hated, the one that said he was trying to do his best by her.

“Fine,” she huffed.I’ll choke on my dry sandwich.

Why did Bill worry about her health when he’d let her mom cook herself to death by frying everything in lard?

Locating the folder, she thumbed through the documents.Her day grew dimmer with each one.Her dad’s business was struggling.She blew out a breath of frustration.Job hunting was in her future.

Rather, more job hunting.Either no one wanted to hire an accountant whose only client was her dad and his failing business, or Bill found out and intervened with a “good” word.

Josie’s mouth flattened.And here she’d thought her mom had gladly been a stay-at-home mom to her and her older brother.The stories Josie heard growing up about what food her mom would serve if she ran a restaurant weren’t tall tales.Bill probably wanted her at home “for her own good.”

The floor creaked outside of the office.Josie looked up and didn’t bother hiding her disdain.

A lock of black hair fell over Gage’s forehead.She suspected he did it on purpose, to give himself the smoldering bad boy appeal.It wasn’t the hair that worked, but the actions that made him a bad boy—not in a good way.

He set a bag down from the corner deli.

“Did you at least grab a bag of chips for me?”She knew the answer was the same as that to another question: Did the fender resting inside the doorway belong to a car with an owner who knew where it was?

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