Page 23 of To Belong Together
“You really need to bring it back to us. Rodney’s doesn’t do good work.”
“They called with a diagnosis.”
A diagnosis she’d failed at twice. What were the odds Rodney’s had it right on the first try? “Did they get it to make the noise again? What did they say it was?”
“Brakes.”
“Brakes?” When she’d heard the sound, it hadn’t been while braking, but that didn’t entirely rule it out. Still, if he didn’t want Sam and Roy touching his car, he shouldn’t let the clowns at Rodney’s near it. “When will it be done?”
“I’m picking it up Monday when I’ll be in Lakeshore anyway.”
He’d go to Lakeshore because Gannon Vaughn lived there, and the band met at the lead singer’s house, if the rumors could be believed. Had John’s connections to Awestruck always come up this often? Probably, but she’d had other reasons to never suspect the new customer was a rock star.
Of course, those reasons were mostly stereotypes that had led her to believe rock stars drove only exotic supercars, had hairstyles edgier than her own, and were out-of-control drug addicts. None of which described John.
“You could have anything, but here you are in a pretty normal house, driving a pretty normal car—I mean, they’re both nice, but …” They were fairly practical and ordinary. Like herself. He could do much better.
“I guess you still don’t know who I am.”
“You’re John Kennedy, drummer for one of the biggest bands in the country.”
He shook his head as if to disagree, then laughed quietly. “And you’re Erin Hirsh, girl mechanic.”
“I’m a woman and a technician.”
His nod seemed a little smug, as though he’d anticipated her objection. “And a niece, cousin, and spitfire, but I betdaughtermatters most.”
A spitfire? Okay, she deserved that, and he didn’t say it like an insult. Plus, he was right. Her role as daughter mattered most. Before Dad’s mind fell prey to dementia, he’d been the only person to understand and accept her. She didn’t belong with anyone the way she belonged with him.
Who will I be when he’s gone, God?
Her throat tightened, and she realized John was still watching. He’d picked up on how vitaldaughterwas to her identity based on the little she’d said about moving to the area. She didn’t need to reveal any more about herself by letting her grief over her father show on her face. “And who are you?”
Aside from the now-obvious.
“I’m a guy who can take a no.” He let himself inside and shut the door.
Erin shoved her hands into her pockets. He claimed he’d told her who he was, but when? And how had he known so much from the little she’d shared?
His interest must’ve been genuine for him to notice details. And she’d turned him down.
At least he wasn’t suing. She trekked down the path to the driveway. When she turned the corner, she recognized the make and model of the sports car parked beside her sedan the moment she caught sight of one headlight.
Once she had the whole lean and low vehicle in sight, her steps drew to a stop.
She’d dreamed of owning this model someday. It was fast, gorgeous, and only cost, oh, sixty to eighty thousand more than she could ever spend on a car. Not that she’d ever driven one to confirm the hype.
She’d never even touched one.
John, however, had a two-car garage. Did that mean she’d now seen both of his vehicles, or did he have more surprises parked in the pole shed?
She trailed a finger across the hood as she walked to her own sedan, a rust bucket that looked ready to fall apart on the road out of here. Embarrassment crept over her.
She was her father’s daughter and little else. With how miserably she’d failed to see whatever John had supposedly shown her about his true identity, even he must know the truth about her now.
She was nothing more than a girl mechanic with a chip on her shoulder.
If only Johnhad gotten around to fixing the door to the storage space above the garage. Toward the tail end of the last tour, he’d bought this place and immediately hired out bigger jobs around the house, including adding the deck and renovating the interior, but he’d saved the small task of realigning the door. The project was supposed to allow him to dust off the skills Hank had taught him as a boy, but with moving and work, he hadn’t yet dug up the tools.
