“We’ve missed you, you know?” she asks, hugging me again before picking up her comb and shears and resuming her haircut.
“I’ve missed y’all, too.” I keep my eyes downcast, trying to gather some of the fire I used to possess. These days, it seems only a certain hot-bodied mechanic can coax it out of me.
“Could’ve fooled—oof! Ouch!”
I look up in time to see Azalea rubbing her side. My best guess is Myla Rose elbowed her—the thought makes me grin. She’s a feisty little redhead, so I wouldn’t put bodily harm past her.
“Where’s Magnolia?” I ask, wrapping my arms around my midsection.
“She ran over to Dream Beans with Callista for a coffee run.”
“Who’s Callista?”
Myla Rose and Azalea exchange worried glances.
“Our receptionist,” Myles says slowly.
I try to swallow, but there’s a golf-ball sized lump in my throat preventing me from doing so. Instead, I nod and try not to cry. I knew they would replace me. I all but forced them to when I ghosted them. I should count myself lucky they’re all still willing to speak to me. I know all of this, but still, it stings.
The bell over the door rings, and my cousin walks in along with a beautiful woman who must be Callista. With flawless skin, chestnut hair, and big brown eyes—she’s stunning. And judging by the cheek-splitting smile she’s rocking, she’s nice, too.
Good, I think, nodding to myself. My girls need someone good, and if she’s it and they like her, then I do, too.
“Seraphine!” Magnolia squeals when she sees me. It’s so out of character for my soft, quiet cousin who hates loud noises that it completely catches me off guard. Even more so when she shoves her coffees into Azalea’s hands and runs over to me and wraps me in a tight embrace. “Oh my God, I’ve missed you!”
Once my stupor wears off, I return her embrace, holding the only family I have left on this earth tightly to me.
By the time we let go, we’re both teary-eyed and sniffling.
“You’re really here.” Her voice is tinged with a hint of awe.
“I am.”
“I haven’t heard your voice, seen your face, nothing in more than a month.”
“I know.” Worry lands in my gut like a lead weight. Is she angry with me? Will she ask me to leave? Maybe she doesn’t really want me here?
I lock my hands behind me and take a small step backward. My breathing accelerates as every imaginable worst-case scenario presents itself to me. I’m on the verge of bolting when Callista walks over to me.
“You must be Seraphine.”
I breathe in deeply and exhale before lifting my eyes to hers. “Yes.” My voice is barely audible.
“You’ve left me some mighty big shoes to fill. These ladies love you fierce.”
A smile works its way free at her words. How is it this stranger knew exactly what I needed to hear? “I love them, too.” This time my words are clear.
“I’m Callista.” She extends her hand toward me, and I shake it.
“It’s really nice to meet you,” I say, surprised by how much I mean it.
With our introductions out of the way, Magnolia passes me one of the many cups she and Callista returned with. I take a long pull from the straw, letting my tastebuds revel in the cool, toffee-coffee goodness.
Myla Rose finishes up her client and flips the sign to “closed” once she leaves. “Now, let’s talk about what you’ve been up to.”
Azalea smirks. “You know, other than ghosting us.”
Guilt prickles again, but I push it to the back burner and fill my friends in on the disaster-zone that is my life.
“Uh, well, I sold Dad’s shop.”
“What? Why? To who?” Myla Rose demands, rapid-fire.
“It’s a long story.” I fidget in my seat under the weight of their stares. “But Mateo bought it.”
“Reyes? Mateo Reyes?” Magnolia asks.
“Yup. And he hired me, to you know, help out and stuff.”
“And stuff, huh?” Azalea asks as she wags her brows, infusing the moment with some much-needed humor.
We talk a little more, and I learn Callista recently moved to Dogwood for a fresh start. She’s a single mom to toddler-aged twins, a recent divorcee, and was in the middle of cosmetology school when her ex-husband walked out. So she’s basically perfect for them.
Once all of our catching up is out of the way, Magnolia guides me to her chair. “What are we doing with your hair?”
I shrug and give her carte blanche. Four hours later, I walk out with subtle caramel highlights and about six inches off the ends, leaving it level with my breasts.
They say a woman who cuts her hair is about to change her life—here’s to hoping like hell that’s true.
Chapter Ten
Mateo
“Are we really going to keep doing this?” Seraphine asks, wiping the sweat from her brow while simultaneously trying to kill me with her glare alone.
“Sí.” I lean back against the steel cabinet.
She’s so over my little quizzes that she’s practically snarling at me. But I don’t care. I need to know if she grew up around cars, or if she actually knows cars before we open and I truly put her to work.
Which is why ten of the last fourteen days have been spent cataloging every item in the garage to get ready for the relaunch. I won’t lie—she seems to know her stuff. But I need to be sure before I turn her loose in here.
“Fine,” she grits out, nodding her head toward her dad’s—I mean my—‘Cuda. “That beautiful beast is one of only six-hundred-and-fifty-two produced that year. It’s got a 440-six pack with an aluminum Edelbrock manifold topped by three 2300 series carb. A lot of people wanted the 426 Hemi, but the automatic 440 was actually faster.”
Seraphine shrugs like she didn’t just make my dick hard spouting off classic car facts like some kind of sexy, tan-skinned encyclopedia. A groan rumbles up from my chest as I stare at her. She’s dressed down in those godforsaken bootie shorts and a hoodie—and yet, the combo is hotter than any lingerie on the market. She’s a clueless seductress—tempting me without even meaning to.
“Anything else you want, sir?” The little bite of sass she adds at the end of her sentence only makes me want her more. She’s young and wild and bratty, and I’d love nothing more than to take her over my knee and show her exactly what else I want.
“No, you’re good.”
“Great.” She flips her head forward and gathers her hair into a messy ponytail and secures it with an elastic from her wrist before plopping down onto the bench. “When are we opening to the public?”
I cross the shop and take a seat next to her. “I’d say we got about two weeks left on the reno, then soft launch for the mechanical side of things and maybe a month on the resto.”
“Reno?” She whips her entire body around to face me so that she’s straddling the bench. “How could you? You’re just going to destroy—we never talked about a renovation!”
“Calm down, mariposita.”
After those two dreaded words, Seraphine’s practically shooting laser beams out of her eyes. “Adding that stupid nickname doesn’t negate you telling me to calm down, asshole.”