Page 7 of Mustang Summer

He recalled a few months ago when he’d seen footprints around the building.They’d chalked it up to his cousin Dillon’s intruder.Perhaps not?

What would Josie want with his place?

He led them both around.The barn doors were still shut and heat crowded every crevice.No air moved and each particle of dust stuck to their skin.

Nothing was out place and the packed dirt floor didn’t reveal any prints, especially not those from a petite Josie.

She was following behind them, not bothering to hide her open interest in the broke-down rusted-out Mustang he’d just procured from an estate auction in the neighboring county.

“You like Mustangs?”Max asked her.

Her nonchalant shrug contradicted her avid gaze and Brock struggled to identify her expression when that happened.“They’re nice as any car, I guess.”

Ah!She was lying.Her attention was riveted despite the faded Caspian blue paint job.Due to sitting in a pasture for a good decade, more rust covered the body than paint anyway.But from her expression, she could be peering into a jewelry store display case.

“So, what’s her story?”She glided her fingertips over the body.

Brock jerked back a step.He’d done the same thing when he’d first gotten within touching distance.Then he’d outbid everyone else until he won the beauty.

“She has a V-8 engine with a hundred and six horsepower.Previous owner had a stroke and couldn’t drive or fix her up any more.He passed away and the wife moved to town.More than a little TLC is needed, but I’ve overhauled worse.”

Her eyes lit up.“Really?Like what?”She covered her excitement and glanced at Max.“I can’t imagine being able to make something like this shine again.”

Max snorted and turned away to head to the door.

Brock immediately recalled the details he’d logged of the two other Mustangs he’d restored with his dad and the two he’d done by himself.Each car he brought home was in worse shape than the last, but his skills kept improving.

He almost started describing his previous projects, but clamped his mouth shut as Josie sauntered to the exit.Max murmured his thanks to her as she left, along with another warning not to trespass.

She threw a look over her shoulder at him.He flailed to identify the emotion etched across her features but she was gone before he could.

It wasn’t the first time he cursed his disorder and it wouldn’t be the last.Unfortunately, it’d be the last time he saw Josie Alvarez.

Brock saton the curb and thumbed through his phone.Thunderclouds built on the horizon and he’d almost welcome the brief reprieve the weather would bring to the sweltering morning.The downside was that once the sun came back out, it’d be twice as muggy as it was now.

“Are they going to cancel the parade?”His cousin Dillon’s girlfriend shaded her eyes and chewed her lip at the menacing clouds.Unlike him, Elle had packed a camp chair that she relaxed in.

Since Dillon was helping Cash tend to the horses pulling the Walker Five parade float, Elle must be speaking to him.

He didn’t look up from the screen.“Not if they can help it.They canceled five years ago and there was a huge uproar.It was like people would rather be struck by lightning than park their float for a year.”

“Maybe it’s the buckets of candy they’re stuck with.”She chuckled, which clued him in that she was joking—he hoped.

Laughter has many meanings.

His therapist had gone over the many nuances of laughter and his mom had constantly quizzed him, but Elle was a straightforward person.

“Buckets of extra candy isn’t always a bad thing,” he said.

She smiled.“Depends on the candy.”

He nodded because that was often a good enough response.He continued scrolling through the vehicle forum.Elle wasn’t overly chatty and he found himself more at ease around her than most people.Good thing since she was likely to become a part of their family—officially anyway.

“Oh!”She leaned over and peered down the street.“I think they’re starting early instead.”

Made sense.Brock had no ties to the parade either way.Except to be backup help with the horses.If they had a piece of farm equipment in the parade, then he broke his back cleaning it until he could see himself in the red finish, but with the damage earlier this year their personal vandal and arsonist had caused, they couldn’t spare the time or money for anything other than horses this year.

Next year would be different.Now they were the proud owners of a massive, shiny red tractor with all the bells and whistles.A piece so advanced, Brock couldn’t go near it with anything other than a buffing rag.The tractor supply company sent out their own repair techs who could read down to the detail what was wrong thanks to the satellite technology on board.

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