Page 79 of The Clover Chapel (Jamison Valley 2)
“What? Oh. Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Let’s go to bed,” he said, picking me up.
“I can walk,” I told him but closed my eyes and rested my head against his shoulder. I loved how Nick often carried me around. It made me feel like I was precious.
“Night, Emmeline,” Dash called.
“Good night, Dash,” I said. “Let’s get Nick to make us his quiche in the morning.”
“She’s a smart woman, Brother. Not sure why she married you,” Dash told Nick as we went upstairs.
“Me either,” he said. “But fuck I’m a lucky man because she did,” he added quietly, so only I could hear.
“Morning,” Dash said, joining Nick and I in the kitchen.
“Good morning.”
“Coffee.” Nick held a mug out to his brother.
“I forgot how comfortable that bed is in your guest room,” Dash said. “Might have to extend my trip by a few days.”
“Stay as long as you want,” Nick said.
After a delicious breakfast of quiche and fried breakfast potatoes, I followed the men outside to the garage.
In all my time at Nick’s, I hadn’t been in the building, and much like his fire station, the garage was pristine. Red tool cabinets and black metal shelves bordered the walls and there was a hydraulic car lift in the middle of the cement floor.
Sipping my coffee, I watched the men work from my perch on a tool bench. Dash was an apt student and Nick was in his element.
“I think you got it,” Dash said, giving Nick a clap on the back a couple hours later.
“Yeah,” he replied, wiping the grease from his hands with a red rag. “Do you want to take her out and see?”
“Fuck yeah!”
The engine roared to life as Dash eased the yellow Plymouth through the tall garage door. When he hit the road, the noise spiked as he sped off.
“What’s ‘Slater’s Station’?” I asked Nick, pointing to the huge sign that hung on the wall opposite me.
“Nothing. Just an old dream.”
“Tell me.”
“You know how I was working at that garage in Colorado?” he asked.
“Yes.” I nodded.
“Before that, I worked for my dad at the club garage where Dash works now. I learned early and it came naturally. So when I started in Colorado, the owner didn’t have much to teach me that I didn’t already know or I hadn’t learned from my certification classes. So instead of teaching me about cars, he taught me about running a business. Encouraged me to start my own shop. When I told him I was quitting to move home, he gave me that sign.”
“It’s a remarkable piece.” The huge stainless steel sign was shaped as a wrench and hung from the ceiling by two thick chains. The letters were cut into the metal in solid blocking.
“Yeah. He was a nice guy. Passed a couple years ago from cancer,” Nick said.
“I’m sorry. Why didn’t you start your own garage?”
“Money, mostly. Security. When I came up here, I was hoping Dash would come live with me and avoid the club. I wanted to have the stability of a paycheck. Starting a garage can be risky, especially in a small town where there’s already a good shop.”
I could see his point. The Prescott populace was nothing if not loyal. And if there was a garage in town where people trusted the owner, they would be reluctant to move their business to someone new.
