Page 88 of Faking It With the Small-Town Bad Boy

this is going to bring me if the car starts. It won’t cover my debt

entirely, not even close, but it will be a step closer to reclaiming this

house and shop without the bank’s foot in the door.

I turn the ignition once, and the car sputters and dies.

My stomach falls, but I try again. My father always said it takes three

times to be sure.

He was wrong. It takes two, and the car sparks to life, the low rumble

of the engine purring to life in the shop. A cold breeze snakes

through the open garage door, the sound like a wonderfully large lion

roaring in the wild. I jump out of the car and squeal, Percy coming in

just at the right moment for me to pounce into his arms. He catches

me, laughing, the sound even better than that of the car.

“Hey, darling,” he hums into my shoulder, his hands smooth on my

lower back.

“I did it,” I gust. “God, Percy. I did it. It’s fixed. I can finally get paid

and move on to the next project.”

He smiles through his words as he says, “Good job, Leah. I’m so

proud of you.”

My heart sputters and stops, the engine filling my ears while I lean

back, seeing the pride he speaks of written all over his face. Still, I

pause in shock.

“What did you say?”

His smile grows, but his eyes widen like he’s in trouble. “I said I’m

proud of you, darling.”

Façade or not, I kiss him, the need overwhelming the circumstance.

A cold wind forces us apart, and I eye the garage door carefully. Percy

must take that as a hint, undoing himself from me before heading for

the garage door. He pulls the gate down, and my mind flickers to the

broken handle on the outside where the lock is.

“Hey, leave it cracked open at the bottom. It locks automatically.”

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