Page 25 of Tempted By the Single Dad Mechanic
We talk through the symptoms: happens when he accelerates, seems to be coming from the undercarriage, started about a month ago after he went over a pothole on Route 9.
"Probably the heat shield," I tell him. "I can take a look this afternoon if you want to leave it."
"Sounds good." He pulls out his keys, then pauses. "You know, one of my nephews is visiting next week. Single, good job, about your age—" He looks at Morgan. "If you're sticking around, I could introduce you."
Morgan's eyes widen slightly. "Oh, that's very kind, but I'm actually just passing through—"
"Shame," Frank says, shaking his head. "Well, if you change your mind, let me know. He's a good kid."
He hands me the keys and leaves, the bell chiming cheerfully behind him.
Morgan looks at me, half-amused, half-mortified. "Does that happen a lot?"
"The matchmaking? You have no idea." I toss Frank's keys onto the desk. "Everyone in this town thinks it's their personal mission to set up anyone under forty who's single."
"Have they tried with you?"
"Constantly. I've been set up with someone’s niece, some woman who was visiting her parents for Thanksgiving, and approximately six different people from around town over the past three years."
Morgan's trying not to laugh. "How did those go?"
"I politely declined every single one."
"Not interested in dating?"
The question is casual, but there's something underneath it. Curiosity, maybe. Or just making conversation.
"Not really my priority," I say, which is the truth without being the whole truth.
The whole truth is that I haven't been able to imagine trusting someone enough to let them into the life I've built. That theidea of introducing someone to Riley, of letting my daughter get attached, makes my chest tight with anxiety.
That Sarah leaving didn't just break my heart. It shattered my ability to believe anyone would stay. But I'm not about to explain all that to someone I met yesterday.
"Fair enough," Morgan says. "For what it's worth, Frank seems nice."
"He is. They all are. Just... enthusiastic."
The phone rings, and Morgan picks it up without hesitation. "Casey's Automotive, this is Morgan speaking."
I watch her for a moment, the way she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, the professional tone she uses, the notes she's already taking on the pad next to the phone.
She's good at this. Natural.
I should get back to work before I start thinking about how nice it is to have someone else here, how the shop feels less empty with her voice filling the space.
Back in the garage, I strip off my shirt. It's already warm, and it's only going to get hotter as the day goes on. The garage has ventilation, but "ventilation" in this case means "a fan that sounds like it's dying and moves air approximately three inches."
I've thought about installing AC, but the cost never seems worth it when it's just me.
I toss the shirt over a tool chest and get back to work.
Mrs. Henderson's alternator comes out easier than expected, and I'm cleaning the connections when I hear Morgan's voice drifting from the front office. She's on the phone withsomeone, her tone patient and professional as she takes down information.
I can't make out the words, but the sound of her voice is... nice. Comforting, somehow. Like the shop is supposed to have that sound in it, filling the empty spaces.
I'm torquing down the new alternator when I realize how quiet it's gotten out front.
Too quiet.
