Page 16 of Screwed (Dad Bod Contracting 4)
Chapter 4
It’s easy to forget exactly how huge James really is, sometimes. I’m not a small girl, not in any way, but James makes me feel small and dainty. Everything about him is just…huge. His arms are the size of my thighs, his shoulders are so broad you could serve dinner on each of them, his chest barrel-like and bulging with muscle, his legs are the size of my waist, his hands are like dinner plates. His eyes are wide and deep and molten brown, reserved and shuttered most of the time, hard to read. His hair is chestnut brown, shot through with streaks of silver. He wears a beard, short and neatly trimmed and brushed, rounded off, as streaked with silver as his hair. He’s wearing a black short sleeve T-shirt, ripped here and there, dotted with paint and clumps of caulk and who knows what else, printed with the logo of a local lumber supply company. The sleeves are stretched nearly to ripping around his biceps and cling to his Atlas shoulders. His Oakleys—which I’ve never seen him without, always either on his eyes or pushed up on his head—are buried in his hair at the moment, the mirrored lenses glinting in the thick thatch of brown.
He glances sideways at me. “So. Where to?”
I stiffen my fingers and rake them through my hair to push it back from my eyes, and then tug the long, thick mass of coppery red over one shoulder. “Hmm. The plan was to head home and get some chores done, but now I’m car-less, and have work tomorrow.” I blow out a breath. “You’ve probably got work to do, though, huh? I’d feel shitty taking up your whole day asking you to take me car shopping.”
James rolls a thick shoulder. “Nice thing about being my own boss is that I can take the day off when I want to.”
I groan quietly. “James, I can’t take up that much of your time. Just drop me off at the used lot over near Target.”
James shakes his head. “Nope.”
“James.”
“Nova.” He gives me the James smile I’m more used to—a slight, subtle tilt of the lips, barely a grin. “We’re ahead of schedule on all our jobs, it’s Saturday, my girls are at a friend’s house for the day, and the only thing on my agenda today was to help out at Imogen’s. But Jesse and Franco have that locked down, and it ain’t a rush anyway. So. You’re stuck with me for today. Sorry, babe.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, it’s a real hardship, lemme tell you.”
“What are you in the market for? Another SUV?”
I shrug. “You know, I’ve never even thought about it. I’ve owned that Explorer for so long, I have no idea what else I’d even like.”
James scratches his beard. “I guess the first question is what is your budget?”
I give it some thought. “I have a bit of cash saved, but I was hoping to use most of it to do some remodels on my house.” I shrug. “I guess I could go…maybe thirty or forty?”
James nods. “I’ve bought quite a few cars in my life, so my advice would be to find something you like that’s gently used, no more than three or four years old, low mileage. Pay half or so cash minimum, or if you can really spare it, just buy it outright. Brand new isn’t always a great deal as you take a pretty big hit in depreciation as soon as you drive it off the lot, whereas with a newer used car you get a decent newish vehicle with lower depreciation happening.”
“Makes sense. I think I can handle thirty or forty in cash.”
“You can get a pretty nice ride for forty grand cash,” James says.
“If you say so. You know better than I do.”
He pulls into a pre-owned lot, parks near the showroom, and we get out.
“Browse around, see what strikes your fancy.”
I head for a cute little two-door Honda coupe, peek in the windows, and glance at the window sticker—well within my price range, that’s for sure.
James thumps the roof with a big fist. “These go forever, but you live in Illinois, Nova. You want my opinion, you need something all-wheel, or a four-by-four.”
I think about that. “The four-wheel drive on my Explorer did get me through some pretty gnarly storms,” I concede.
“Exactly.” James eyes the lot, and sees another SUV, a compact-crossover import. “Being a contractor, I need a pickup, but Renée owned one of these and loved it. I drove it a few times—it has the feel of a car, but it’s great in the snow. I wouldn’t do any real off-roading in it, but it’ll get you through snowstorms and such.”
I circle it, look it over, but end up shrugging. “I don’t know. I feel kinda…meh about it.”
