Page 105 of Bargaining

“No problem.” I’d better stop, or he’d try and hug me or ask me to pose for another selfie.

We continued to the hole. Reuben’s ball had landed neatly ahead of mine on the grass.This fucker.Was he some fucking golf prodigy?

He flashed me a curious glance. “What kind of job?”

“I’m sorry?”

“You said you could help me with a job.”

I shrugged. “Whatever you like. If you want to keep racing, I’ll help find you a new team, or I could bring you on board at Vexo. Get you trained up with a mentor.”

A smile touched his lips. “Yeah? You can see me behind a desk?”

Nope.I kept my face neutral. “We’ll figure something out.”

He slammed his cap back on his head. “I’ll think about it.”

“You do that.”

He stopped suddenly, and opened his arms wide. “This is some heavy stuff, Bro. Hug it out?”

I sighed. “Always just assume that I never want to hug it out.”

He snorted and dropped his hands to his sides. Then he putted his ball and flashed a shit-eating grin. “Is it still beginner’s luck if I beat you twice?”

Very funny.I raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “I’m starting to rethink this job offer.”

He unleashed a beaming smile and threw his arm around my shoulder. “Don’t. I’m up for it. If I get to keep thrashing the boss-man at golf, I’m coming round to the idea.”

Chapter 48

Charlotte

I stopped and peered at my handiwork. When I’d run out of paper, I’d had to find another surface. Cypress trees and ancient stones under a rich blue sky covered the expanse of wall in the lounge. Paint dripped from my brush onto the sheets I’d laid over the carpet. If Tiff came in here now, she’d assume I was having a breakdown. Maybe I was. But it didn’t feel like that. All the tension in my shoulders had gone. My heart beat a calm rhythm in my chest, and I was filled with a deep sense of peace. All I knew was that it felt good. What did it matter? These walls were due to be painted over anyway.

A commotion sounded on the drive, and I moved to the window to look outside. My car was being hoisted high and onto the back of a tow truck. A different car sat on the driveway where mine had been—a silver tank-like monstrosity with a prominent grille glinting in the sun. What on earth? Ditching my paintbrush, I ran outside to the burly man in a plaid shirt who was securing my car to the truck.

“Wait. No! What are you doing? That’s my car.”

He gave me an unconcerned glance and pulled out a scrap of paper from his back pocket. “Fourteen Manor Road? Charlotte Ackroyd?”

I wiped my paint-covered hands down my overalls. “Yes. This is my car. I don’t want you to take it away.”

He shrugged and readjusted his baseball cap on his thick mop of red hair. “I just go where I’m told.”

“Wait. No. You can’t take it.” I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “There’s been some kind of mistake. Where has this car come from? That car isn’t mine.”

That’s when I noticed the number plate:L0T 11E.

“It’s yours. Congratulations,” he said flatly, putting a set of keys on the bonnet. “Shouldn’t be any problems, but my number is in the glove compartment if you need anything.”

“I don’t know what’s going on here, but I’m begging you. Please don’t take my car.” My voice pitched an octave higher in desperation. “This is a misunderstanding.”

He squinted at the scrap of paper again and moved to the cab of his truck. “Vexo Inc. Call them if you’ve got a problem.”

Vexo? That was Cole’s company. Was this Cole’s doing? Who else? He was the only person I knew capable of affording a car like this. The tow-truck guy climbed up into the driver’s seat and slammed his door. The truck rumbled to life. Frozen on my front doorstep, I watched as my car disappeared from view.

“I didn’t order a rental car,” I cried after him.