Jax looked up as I crowded in as close behind the tow truck as I could get. He frowned. Of course he did. Try to do something nice for this asshole. As I climbed out, scooting tight next to my car so I didn’t get mowed down by some renegade driver, I saw movement in the tow-truck passenger seat. Did this dude bring his wife?
I glanced over to Jax. Still frowning. I said as nicely as I could, “What’s going on?”
He gave me a duh look, but said, “My family’s clunker gave up the ghost.” He raised an eyebrow. “I thought you’d be in Ohio by now.”
I shrugged. “By the time I realized you were, uh, you, I didn’t have a place to stop, so I had to get off the road and turn around.” He raised both brows this time. Good. Be impressed. “But it looks like you’re handled here, so I better get out of the way of the tow truck.”
A voice behind me said, “Hey, man, glad you got here.” I turned to see the tow truck driver, a lanky guy in oily jeans, walking toward us from his spot where he’d been peering under the hood. “I’d just gotten off work when they called me, and I’ve got my girlfriend April with me, so there’s no room in the cab. You can bring your pal and follow us.” He grinned and looked at Jax. “Unless you want to carry April on your lap, but that’s going to be a load. I like ’em built, if you know what I mean.” He winked, and Jax looked at me with something like horror on his face.
I sighed loudly just to be a pain. “How far is it?”
The guy shrugged. “Just a few miles down the road. I was hoping I could get this piece of s—er, old classic started, but hell, I don’t know how this thing made it here.”
I squinted at Jax. “Sounds like your family needs a new car. One that works might be nice.”
He scowled. “You don’t have to take me.”
I rolled my eyes and said to the driver, “I’ll take him.”
The guy nodded. “I imagine you’ve got GPS in that sweet ride, huh?”
“Of course.”
He pulled a dog-eared card from his pocket. “This is where we’re going. I’ll be right behind you. It’ll take me a couple minutes to hook up the truck.”
I glanced at the card. “Joe’s Garage. Guess you’ve got a thing for old classics.”
The joke was wasted on Mr. Tow Truck. “Yeah, Joe’ll be waiting for you. You’re getting off at Bentleyville. Three exits down. You can’t miss it.”
I gave a nod, turned, and strode toward my car. This would set me back probably a whole damn hour. I wasn’t in a hurry to get anywhere, but an hour spent with Jax was like dog years. In hell. I just wanted to get it over with. By the time I scooted past the tow truck again and waited for a break in traffic to open my door, Jax was already in the passenger seat, belted in. Typical. Oh no, I can’t possibly ask for a favor! even as he’s taking exactly what he wants. I was glowering so hard as I belted up, my head hurt.
The first thing that hit me as I started my car was the smell. Some kind of woodsy, light aftershave I seriously wanted to hate, but it reminded me too much of stuff I loved, like trees. Ignore. Ignore. I put the address into my GPS.
For what seemed like the next ten minutes, I stared over my shoulder, looking for a comfortable break in the flow of traffic so I could pull out. It wasn’t that the cars were continuous, but they were moving fast, and I was at a dead stop on gravel. Jax probably thought I was a wimp, scared to floor it. Jesus, I hated this feeling, like I was back with my father teaching me to drive. Step on it, Rand. For fuck sake, what are you waiting for? An engraved invitation?
Finally, I couldn’t take it. I didn’t quite close my eyes, but I did take a breath, slam my foot down with gravel spewing in every direction, and I was on the road, gunning it up to speed. When no one ran into my rear end, I finally looked in the rearview mirror and let out my breath.
Beside me, Jax gripped the console with white knuckles.
I said, “Sorry.”
Slowly he released his grip. “Fuck, man, better you than me. I sure hope that tow truck driver makes it out of there alive.”
Stunned by the lack of snark, I half smiled, but I couldn’t think of anything to say. Obviously, neither could Jax, because we drove for a couple miles without a sound. Finally, in uncomfortable desperation, I clicked on my playlist. The soaring sounds of “Girl from the Low Country” filled the car, and I froze. For a second, I wasn’t sure. Off or on. Then I reached for the switch, and Jax’s hand got there first, covering it.
“Is that Joan Baez?” His tone suggested he wondered why the fuck I was listening to Joan Baez.
At that moment, the exit marked Bentleyville came up on the right. I turned and barked, “Pay attention. Joe’s should be around here somewhere.”
The minute he turned to look out the window, I switched off the music, based on the principle that directions were impossible to follow when music was playing.
The voice of the GPS said, “In three hundred yards, turn right, and then your destination is on the right.”
Jax pointed. “There it is.” But nobody could have missed it. The Joe’s Garage sign should have commanded real estate in Las Vegas; it was so huge.
A gray-haired guy stood in the middle of the otherwise empty lot and waved me to the side of the building. I drove slowly around, saw a row of parking spaces, and pulled into one of them. As we climbed out of the car, the tow truck pulled in. Hell, the dude was moving so fast, the old Buick should have shaken apart, just getting over the curb.
Jax muttered, “Obviously that guy’s looking for some Pieces of April.”
I snorted at the old song reference. “He wants to spend April in Paris.”
He glanced at me, his eyes reflecting the lights from the sign. “Under April Showers.”
My eyes grew wide. “Gross!”
He barked a laugh and looked at me, smiling.
It was the first time Jax had ever smiled at me, and it was real. It went all the way up and warmed those brown eyes. They had a red cast to them in the fading sunlight—like embers. My stomach tightened and my mouth went dry.
Jax looked away first. He sobered quickly as he stared over at his car. The gray-haired man, presumably Joe, and the tow truck driver had the hood up and Joe was shaking his head.
Jax got out of the car and started toward them. I rubbed my face. Get a grip, Rand. I opened my door and followed, arriving just in time to hear the driver say, “Told you it wasn’t lookin’ too good.”
Joe shook his head. “Hell, I can’t even get parts for this thing in less than three or four days—if not weeks, dependin’.”
Jax sucked in an audible breath.
“I won’t be able to get you a quote on fixing it until sometime tomorrow. But one thing I can pert near guarantee. It’ll cost more to fix it than it would to replace it. Sorry, son.”
Jax cringed like somebody hit him with a board. “Shit. I can’t even make that decision. It’s my dad’s car.” He rubbed his forehead as if the mere thought of it hurt and then shook it off. When he looked up again, his expression was sad and resigned. “Is there a bus station in this town? I need to get to Indianapolis.”
My stomach flipped. The Master of Chill was freaked—and I was screwed.