Later that morning, after three more glasses of water and a long trip to the restroom to repair the damage that walk had done to my appearance, I was finally feeling well enough to switch to a much-needed cup of coffee.
I was returning to my desk with a fresh, steaming cup of caffeinated goodness when my cell phone rang inside my purse. My phone hardly ever rang, and with how the past several months had been, I automatically jumped to thinking every call was to tell me something had happened to my dad.
I scrambled quickly around the desk, spilling the piping hot liquid over the edge of the mug and onto my skin. “Ouch! Son of hellfire!” I hissed, plopping down in my chair and placing the coffee mug on my desk so I didn’t cause any further damage. I shook out my stinging hand while I rummaged through my purse with the other one.
The number flashing across the screen wasn’t one I was familiar with, so I quickly swiped to answer before it rolled over to voicemail. “Hello? Hi, hey. I’m here. Hello?”
“Willow?” the gruff, raspy voice on the other end of the call asked, sending goosebumps cascading across my skin. “Hey, it’s Stone.”
My back shot straight in my chair. “Hi. Hey. Yes, it’s you. And I’m . . . me.”
For the love of God! Squeezing my eyes closed, I smacked myself in the forehead with my injured hand and let out a string of mumbled curses.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah!” I chirped, infusing way too much cheer into my tone. “Yes. Everything’s good. How—” I cleared my throat and tried to calm my frazzled nerves. “How are you?”
When he spoke next it almost sounded like I could hear a smile in his voice, but without seeing him, I couldn’t be sure. “I’m good. I’m calling about your car.”
“Oh! Yeah, my car! Right. Of course. Is everything okay with it?”
“Well, not really,” he answered, deflating my hope. “Your alternator’s fucked and the ignition switch needs to be replaced.”
“Oh. Uh, okay. That sounds . . . expensive?”
“It’s not too bad. Problem is, the garage is really backed up at the moment and we don’t have all the parts I need on hand, so you’re lookin’ at about a week, maybe two, before I can get it back to you.”
“Oh,” I repeated, slumping in my chair. “Okay.”
“Is that all right?” he asked, like he could hear the disappointment loud and clear in those two words.
“Yeah. No, it’s fine.” I waved my hand even though he couldn’t see me. “Nothing you can really do if you don’t have the parts or time, right?” I tried to laugh casually and ended up snorting. Eff my life so freaking bad!
“I gotta be honest, mouse,” he continued, giving me a little thrill with the use of that nickname. “Even with those parts replaced, the car’s still a piece of shit. You really should look into getting something more dependable.”
“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” I offered in a placating tone, even though I had no intention of buying a new car. “Well, thanks for calling to let me know. I guess I should let you get back to work.”
“Yeah. And I’ll let you know when the parts come in.”
“Thanks, Stone. I appreciate that. Have a good day.”
The call ended, and I stuffed the phone back into my purse with a sigh as I slumped in my chair.
Another week—at least—of walking to and from work. If this morning was anything to go by, I wasn’t totally confident I could survive it.
I was going to have to invest in some athletic wear, because there was no way in hell my work clothes could survive that much sweat.
Chapter Six
Stone
Summer was in full effect and the temps outside were steadily climbing. It wasn’t even nine in the morning, and the thermostat had already slipped past eighty. It wasn’t often that I thought about my old life in San Francisco, but on days like this, when the heat felt like it was slapping you in the face, I missed the cooler temperature.
Standing out on my back deck, I took in the view of the bright green trees that surrounded me as far as the eye could see. I’d bought this place once I decided to stay because of the solitude it provided, something the city had been sorely lacking.
Out here, there wasn’t any of that obnoxious traffic. There were no honking horns, no people rushing around in a hurry to get nowhere special. The pace in Redemption was chill. The people were content to just be. I could get down with that.
My place sat on ten acres of wooded land tucked in the foothills of the Smoky Mountains just outside of town. The house itself was bigger than a single guy like me needed, but the selling point was the building that sat about a hundred yards away from the house.
It hadn’t been much to look at when I first got here, but it was big enough to convert into my own personal garage with two bays so I could work on my own restoration projects during my downtime.
For space where I could focus on the one thing that kept my mind at ease, I’d have gladly paid more than the asking price, but most people buying a house in the woods didn’t want an eyesore of an outbuilding just outside their back door, so the previous owners were geared up to tear it down until I swooped in with a generous offer.
I’d fixed the building so it didn’t look like a rusted-out wreck, and now my passion projects sat in the closed bays, waiting for me to find the time to spend with them.
Sucking down the last of my coffee, I moved back inside and dropped the empty mug into the sink before bending down to give Chief’s head a rub. I’d had the old boy for years now, finding him out in the alley behind my old garage in San Francisco. He’d been rummaging around in the trash, looking for something to eat.
The grey pit bull had been dangerously emaciated, so skinny I could count each of his ribs from a distance. His back leg was in bad shape, and his fur had started falling out.
At first I thought he was a random stray until I spotted his collar. Some asshole had decided that a big dog like him wasn’t for them and had abandoned him, leaving him to die on the streets.
It hadn’t been easy getting him to trust me. It had been obvious he’d been on his own for a while, and he was leerier of me and the rest of my guys from the shop than we were of him. But with enough coaxing, I’d managed to earn his trust, and eventually, the dog that had wanted nothing to do with humans—and rightfully so—became mine. I nursed him back to health, and it had been just the two of us ever since.
“Keep an eye on the place while I’m gone, will you?” I asked as he looked up at me, his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth as he panted happily and thumped his tail against the floor. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
With one last pat, I headed out the door and hopped on my bike. I took the ride down the mountain faster than most people might, the thrill of the wind across my face was a rush of adrenaline filling my veins. It made me feel alive. It was the closest to pure joy I assumed I’d ever feel.
I hugged the curves as endorphins flooded my bloodstream. I was a bit of an adrenaline junky. Always had been. But after losing my best friend in a car crash a few years back, the carelessness that used to fuel my adrenaline high was no longer there. It was no longer about seeing how far I could push my luck. That drive disappeared when Will died after some asshole decided he had the right to get plastered and climb behind the wheel of his car, putting everyone else on the road in danger. I wouldn’t do something like that. Now it was just about that temporary feeling of freedom.