Page 16 of Ignite

But I’d never been this nervous watching someone inspect the gallery of photos.

Ethan took his time, his muscular arms crossed over his impressive chest—not that I’d been checking him out at the gym or anything—and he stood back far enough to take in each photo before stepping close enough to read the inscription. Then he moved along and gave the next photo the same respect.

I smiled, remembering dad’s look of pride at the end of each job. How we staged the photo with love, giving a framed copy to the owner. Then, nostalgia was replaced with respect for Ethan. He didn’t rush, only moving past each photo after carefully studying the plaque. Occasionally, he threw me a glance that could melt icebergs, before grunting. Was he acknowledging his respect for my father? Or the shop?

Had he realized that I was more than just the crazy bitch who’d hit his car?

Whatever he could be thinking, I didn’t know and wished I didn’t care.

I remembered almost every car. My father’s customers had come from Sydney, Melbourne, even traveling two days to get here from Brisbane. His reputation was that he would take the time to get the job done the way the car deserved.

I’d grown up listening to weather reports and could talk about sheep grazier alerts with any farmer before I reached high school. After the bodywork had been completed, my father would take weeks to prep a car just right and he watched the weather reports for days to make sure there wasn’t a chance of fire or smoke that could taint the paint. He even cared how much moisture was in the air, although after years of drought, I couldn’t remember the last time that had been a factor.

“Any of these yours?” His inspection complete, Ethan seemed appropriately impressed. I blinked a couple of times, bringing myself out of the nostalgia the photos always dredged up. I would certainly be having a drink to daddy tonight. Damn, why’d he have to die on me?

My voice sounded brittle as I replied, “The top row Dad did before he’d trained me up. He only let me get the best framed and wanted to leave room to add more. He wanted every customer to feel like theirs could be the next car on the wall.”

“So, the others?”

I smiled, thinking of all the creative differences dad and I had when working together. Even now, I could still hear his voice reminding me that a job worth doing was worth doing to the best of my ability. Every customer and car deserved me at my best. It was his voice that made me work the extra hour to get the sanding just right, or to ring one more supplier to get the original part. “The top row is all original Rylee. Everything else, we did together.”

“Nothing on your own?”

I shook my head and tried to blink away my tears. Each time I’d opened up my photos, it hurt too much to continue. “I … I haven’t had time to frame them.”

I only hoped Ethan couldn’t hear the emotion. It felt cathartic taking someone through the photos. Everyone else in town had seen the cars when they’d been here. Ethan’s reaction was the first that hadn’t been tainted by knowing my father or his reputation.

“Photos of your jobs, can I see?” Ethan left the wall and leaned over the front counter, motioning me to join him with my phone. He seemed genuinely interested but I tried to put that down to him being a guy, and what guy didn’t love a good paint job?

He wasn’t interested in me, I tried to remind myself. He only cared about trusting me with his truck.

I flicked through my phone. Surprisingly, the only photos I’d taken in the last year had been of cars and my two horses. Not of my ex-fiancé, not of life. From the look of my camera feed, I’d lived to work other than the weekends I could escape to my property and ride.

“Holy cow! A sexy woman who knows her way around cars?” Ethan whistled his appreciation, looking at me as if I wore my gym gear instead of baggy and paint-stained overalls.

“Did you just compliment or insult me?” This side of Ethan I could handle.

“I’m saying, if you hadn’t smashed my car, I’d think you were the only perfect woman alive.”

I tried to downplay the effect of his billion-watt smile flirting its way into my good graces, and how his hard body hadn’t stepped away from the bench after seeing the photos.

This was the closest we’d been since he’d gotten out of his damaged truck and his effect on me hadn’t changed. My heart beat faster and my brain fried. All I could see were his bright blue eyes.

Earlier today, Felicity had dropped by with the exciting news that Ethan had charmed the high school principal into approving a new before-school sports clinic for students with good attendance records. I sighed, resigned to joining the Ethan fan club. After all, if Ethan could charm snobby Battleaxe MacGregor, then I didn’t stand a chance, but I could go down fighting.

“I’d say that you should get out more and meet women with higher aspirations than being your next cheerleading groupie.”

“Are you volunteering for the job?” Ethan cupped his chin in one hand and pretended to look me up and down. “I could see you trading in those overalls for a cute little cheerleading uniform. I’d even help you make some pom-poms.”

“Has anyone told you you’re an obnoxious ass?” As much as I tried, my words weren’t sharp enough to pop a balloon. And his smile did nothing to help douse the butterflies that were flapping around in my stomach. “Or do you save that side of your personality just for me?”

“No.” His breath brushed close to my neck and smelled of mint gum or toothpaste. If I kissed him, could I tell the difference? “I’ve been called a bastard, asshole, a few words I won’t repeat in polite company, but never an obnoxious ass. Where’s that on the scale from angel to devil?”

“You’re impossible.” I closed down my phone, silently promising myself to at least get the photos developed. Purely from a business perspective, I needed to show I could still produce the goods without my father, otherwise, I’d lose potential customers to old fashioned bias.

“Talk to me. How does the hottest woman in town end up in a place like this?”

“I loved my brother and preferred to play football with him and his friends, instead of dolls.” Talking about my family always got my emotions racing. Needing something to do, I grabbed the broom and started sweeping the polished concrete floor. “When mum got sick, we spent more time here with dad. My brother got bored, but I got interested. The best way of not being in dad’s way was by being useful.”

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