Page 25 of Mustang Summer

Brock explained each detail as he shadowed her though the place.She had to smile.How many others would be bored shitless by the second vehicle’s specs being rundown with complete precision.But she thrived on it, knew exactly what he was talking about.

He ran a hand over the fender of a black Boss with lime green detailing.“This is waiting for a guy from Missouri to drive up and get her.”

She held up her hand for him to stop, and he promptly fell quiet.“So you do sell your collection.”

“I can’t afford to refurbish Mustangs and keep them all.I’d be out of room.”

But not money because the Walkers were obviously profitable in farming.“Then Mr.Blackwood was right to suspect you of wanting his Shelby only so you could profit.”

“No.If he thinks that, he’s wrong.”

Peeking into the Boss, she let her gaze dance over the immaculate interior.“Why do you want it again?”

“My dad always talked about working on a ’68 Shelby GT500.It was the year he was born.”

Ah, now she understood.The dad and cars thing, that was why she used the lie on Mr.Blackwood.“You two would work on it together.Bonding time.”

The flurry of emotions that streaked through his features caught her by surprise.It was like he didn’t know how to answer.“I thought maybe he’d come help out some weekends.”

“Doesn’t he come visit otherwise?”She should talk.Look at Bill’s stellar visiting record with Jesse.Nada.

“No.”

She drifted around the car, but surreptitiously studied him.How far could she push it?And why’d she find Brock so fascinating?She should be halfway to Waite Park by now.“Are you two close?”

“He doesn’t get me.”

She released a delicate snort.“Join the club.”

He abandoned the car and approached the workbench to put away some tools lying out.As he opened drawers to a standing toolbox, he asked, “Really?”

“Yup.He’s a little old fashioned.It was one thing to let me help him and follow him to tool shops and car garages, but then I hit my teens, and nope.Not gonna take the little lady anywhere.”She chuckled.“At least I learned to cook since I was stuck with my mom.”

Her smile died.If only she’d known then that those moments were ones she’d cherish the most.Without Bill’s bigoted attitude, she would’ve lost out on all those experiences.

“What do you cook?”

The question struck her as odd.They’d talked only about cars and whether she was in his barn or not until this point.And her brother.His question moved into the more personal realm, but his tone wasn’t flirty.Just simple.She said she cooked and he wanted to know what.

“Everything.She was an all-American woman with Italian and Hispanic roots.Her manicotti was worth committing homicide for.My brother’s dad was from Mexico, so she learned to cook a lot from his family.”Jesse’s dad had sounded like a good guy.If he’d still been alive, no way would Jesse have gotten into the trouble he had.“She taught me how to make real tortillas.The real thing.I can’t even with the store bought ones.”

“I don’t eat those.”

He was still shifting through his tools, his back to her.She tried to discern his tone.It wasn’t derogatory like how Gage would often say things to her.Especially about her opinions.

Brock didn’t really have a tone.Just stated a fact.He didn’t eat tortillas.

“What do you eat?”This was not the day she imagined.She was hanging with a Walker on a Friday afternoon talking about food.

Not just any Walker, either, but the gearhead.And he was listing the food he ate.

“Chicken.Peanut butter and jelly.Pancakes, eggs, and sausage.Mac and cheese.If I go to town, I stick with a burger and fries.”

“From a farmer, you don’t eat much that grows from the soil,” she said wryly.

“Oh, I eat from the garden all the time.We’ll grab a few ears of corn when they’re ripe,” he continued without missing a beat.“When we grow sunflowers, we always roast a couple of heads to make homemade sunflower seeds.Travis and Aaron tend large gardens and give me what I don’t grow.I raise the chickens for eggs and meat.”

“What about the winter?”

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