Page 42 of The Opposite of Romance
I act shocked, gasping. “What a preposterous suggestion. I’ve been taking care of my niece. I don’t have time for shenanigans like that.”
She chuckles loudly, and I’m glad to see her happy. Logan approaches us.
“I need to check up on another site. But I’ll be back later,” he says.
“Sure.” I give him a thumbs up and watch him leave.
“You know what? I’ve been neglecting my romance trope guide duties.” Sandy adds, taking Stella from my arms before continuing, “I need to get going now, but tomorrow, we’re back on.”
“I need to hit the store. I’ll walk you out.”
“Thank you, again, for doing this.” Sandy gives me a tight hug.
“If I hear ‘thank you’ one more time, I swear to God I’ll send you home the next time you come.” I shoot her a glare.
“Fine, fine.” She smiles before mouthing,‘Thank you.’
While she buckles Stella’s seat into the car, I’m already turning the key in mine. The car lets out a rattling noise but doesn’t start. Again, I turn the key and the same thing happens.
Rattle. Rattle. Nothing.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath before getting out of the car. Logan’s van is gone, but Sandy is luckily still there.
“Is there a mechanic in this town?”
“What’s wrong?”
“My car won’t start.”
“Umm, there is one on the outskirts of town. But we don’t really use it.” I shoot her a confused look. “The guy who owns it is kind of sketchy. Her voice turns to a whisper. “There are rumors he’s in a gang.”
I contemplate my options for a second. I could call David; he usually took care of the car. But I would rather risk gettinginvolved in gang activity than admit I need his help. “I’ll take my chances. Can you drop me off there?”
“You sure?” She eyes me warily.
“Yup. I need to pick up my kids from school in a couple of hours. I need the car.”
“Fine. Get in.”
I make myself comfortable in the passenger seat of her car, which she, unlike myself, starts on the first try. Right after the exit sign from Ocean’s Harbor, an abandoned-looking garage sits on the side of the road. There are a few massive motorcycles parked out front, and a guy wearing a leather jacket, even though it’s almost summer, climbing one of them before driving off.
“See?” Sandy nudges my shoulder.
“Yup, thank you for the ride.” I open the door, but she grabs me by the wrist.
“Wait! I can’t let you go in there alone.” She unbuckles her seatbelt and gets out before taking Stella out and placing her in the stroller.
I have half of mind to giggle at her dramatics, but I’m quite touched she would risk her and her baby’s life to keep me safe.
She steels herself before we enter, taking a deep breath, and I roll my eyes. Between the two of us, I’m the realist. This is a small coastal town, not a high-crime city filled with gangs. And I couldn’t care less about what the mechanic does in his free time as long as he fixes my car.
Sandy’s gasp snaps me out of my thoughts. Alarms blare through my system.Maybe Sandy was right?
Instead, she pinches my arm, whispering, “He’s hot.”
“You’re an idiot,” I say, my body slowly relaxing.
But when I pick my gaze up, I barely contain my own gasp. The guy’s not hot. No, he’s TikTok Viking, wood chopping, thirst trapping hot.
