Page 48 of Crash Course
"I suppose." She waved a hand toward the barn. "I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Distract me with this car."
Once again, they fell in step, side by side. Cruz peered up at the darkening sky over the barn. He’d have to grab a flashlight for the walk back.
They approached the giant, glossy, black doors and he slid them open. Inside, he flipped on the overhead track lights illuminating the spotless interior. Not an easy feat in a garage.
Toward the back sat the Stutz where he’d yet to find that frickin' leak. He had, however, ordered the dye and UV light Reid had suggested. Now all he needed was the stuff delivered so he could get this baby on the road again.
Cilla peered up at the muted gray side walls lined with cabinets and hooks. Workbenches stuffed with tools and organized down to the smallest wrench.
"Wow," she said. "Not your run-of-the-mill garage."
"Yeah. Barn on the outside, state-of-the-art inside."
He walked to the front of the Stutz and held his hands out. "This is it."
Cilla let out a low whistle and immediately went to the driver’s side, bending to peer inside. "Oh my. She’s sexy."
She sure is.
The car, too.
"I love the red interior." She stood tall, meeting his gaze over the hood. "Can I buy her from you?"
Ha. Wouldn’t be the first offer he’d gotten. Probably not the last. He smiled. "No."
"I’m serious. How much do you want for it? I’ll buy it right now."
Sassy woman right here. Good for her. He shook his head. "Sorry, babe. Not for sale."
Ever. He’d had a dozen offers in the last few months. Two of them above six figures. No amount of money would do it. Not only did he love this car, his father would haunt him forever if he let it go.
And that scared the hell out of Cruz.
Cilla puckered her perfectly lipsticked red lips. The red, he’d decided, must be her favorite color because she wore it constantly. He liked it. Loved it in fact.
"My father," she said, "claims everything has a price."
"He’d be wrong. I don’t mind telling him either."
"Oh, Cruz Blackwell, where have you been all my life."
"Honey, I could ask you the same thing."
His response drew a half-crooked smile out of her and a finger wag. She ran that finger along the door frame, then bent over again to look inside.
"The wood trim is amazing."
"Yeah. That was a bitch."
She stood tall again, her eyebrows hitching slightly. "You did that yourself?"
"I did. When my dad died, he’d only gotten to starting the engine. None of the body work." He pointed to the wall behind Cilla and made his way to where he’d framed photos from the various rebuild stages. Cilla joined him and he tapped the photo of his dad standing in front of a flatbed carrying the car’s rusted frame. "This is my dad the day he brought it home. The damned thing didn’t have tires."
She leaned in, craning over his workbench to study the photo. "Look at his smile. You look like him."
Yeah, he did. Out of all of them, Cruz was damned near the spitting image. "This was his dream car."
"You mentioned that last night." She faced him, crossing her arms casually. "It’s a shame he didn’t let you help him with it."
