Chapter 2

HOLLY

Life sucked.

Holly plastered on a smile and felt all eyes on her in the coffee shop, knowing this would be all over town within the hour. Oh yes, ‘Good ol' Beary' was on a blind date with ‘Davy-the-Druggie.'

That was the last time she ever trusted Krista for anything. Her neighbor was an ambitious bleeding heart who wanted nothing more than to match people together, and she had caught Holly during the middle of her period, mowing the lawn, hair unwashed, with a Snickers hanging out of her mouth. It was a bad day that unknowingly was going to get much worse.

"I shoulda dumped hooch in my water bottle instead of lemonade," she muttered under her breath. "Because then I could blame this nightmare on the booze."

"Sooooo, Beary," Davy drawled, leaning back against the booth with a satisfied smile on his face. "You've been wanting to go out with me, huh?"

"I think perhaps Krista exaggerated slightly," she replied kindly, knowing others were listening nearby. The tomboy of town did not need to be classified as the town's royal goodie-two-shoes – and she sure wasn't above giving someone a chance, even Davy.

"I heard," Davy began again, interrupting her thoughts. "That you've been on lots of dates and waiting impatiently for Mr. Right. So, let's cut the chit-chat and talk about what that fella looks like to you because I've always thought you were pretty."

"You did? Wait, you do?" she blinked, shocked and taken aback at the unexpected turn of his words. Wait, Davy-the-Druggie thought she was pretty? Like, ‘girly' pretty?

"You've got the stuff up top," Davy drawled, and Holly realized that his pupils were huge. He didn't have brown eyes. They were just overtly large because he was higher than a kite and starting to slur his words.

She was going to maim Krista for this blind date. The last several blind dates had been a doozy, but she managed to get free of ‘Slobbering-Sam,' dumped ‘Dorky-Duane,' and by offering to pay for her meal, she'd dubbed ‘Pretentious-Paul' and a new nickname that didn't bear repeating.

"A nice round bottom under those coveralls you wear all the time and – oh my gosh – I get it. Coveralls actually cover all, don't they? Sure makes it hard to see the stuff on the bottom, but it's there."

Leaning forward, she waved him forward so he would lean down before whispering to him.

"Davy, did you take something before our date?"

"Yeah, you want one? I've got another hit in my pocket, and that would be awesome if we were both into expanding our minds together. I mean, that would make you the coolest girlfriend…"

"I'm not your girlfriend," she said bluntly and saw his goofy smile fade as he blinked several times. "I am not your girlfriend," she repeated slowly so he didn't miss what she said. "I am also not dating someone that does drugs. So if you are high, this date is over."

"Me? I'm not high," he immediately said, backpedaling quickly. "I don't do drugs, officer."

Holly sighed and put her head down in her hands. He was slurring so badly that ‘officer' was pronounced as ‘ossafer'. Oh, her date was definitely higher than the space station in orbit.

It was going to be a pathetically long evening at home alone, nursing another Snickers bar and watching Hallmark romance movies where it actually worked out. Honestly, it was a crying shame that Davy was strung out on drugs because he was actually handsome in a ‘tough guy' sort of way.

If this town was the Outsiders, Davy was definitely ‘Soda Pop Curtis' from the book – on drugs. Why couldn't she find her ‘Darry'? A responsible, handsome, hard-working guy who just wanted to keep the family together and maintain a home?

Where were all the good guys, the heroes, the guys that were men and not boys in need of a caretaker, mother, or housemaid? She wanted a real man in her life. Someone who would defend her, fight for her, romance her like in the movies. Where was her Lancelot, her Sir Gawain, her Romeo?

And why on earth was she on a blind date with Gollum from Lord of the Rings? She thought wildly as Davy pulled a pink pill out of his shirt pocket and held it up to inspect it, like he was holding the one ring. She mentally hissed ‘My Precious' the split second before he popped it into his mouth and swallowed.

"Oh. My. Gosh," she muttered flatly in disbelief, grabbing her wallet. "I'm out."

"Whuuuh?" Davy drawled, his eyes barely cracked open. "Gimme a few, m'kaaaay? Gonnaaaa fix dish."

"I forgot I've got cobwebs to clean and mopheads to bake," she said slowly, wondering just how far gone he was – only to see him nod. He had no clue what she'd said and it showed.

"Gottaaaaa clean ‘dem," he whispered, leaning his head back and closing his eyes – and Holly shook her head. "Dos mop heads… uh, ahh… dir-dee."

Nope.

She was done, and Davy needed help. He didn't even blink when she stood up and snatched her wallet off the seat. The bench made a loud noise, drawing even more attention as every set of eyes watched her head to the counter. She hurriedly paid for both of them and dialed 9-1-1 on her cell phone while she was getting change.

"9-1-1, what's your emergency?"

"I'm at The Cozy Cup in Sweet Bloom, and we've got someone here that is strung out on drugs. He's barely responsive. I'm afraid it's going to get worse because he just took something else in front of me," she whispered, looking back at Davy, whose mouth was hanging open as he slumped down in the seat. "Yup, higher than a kite."

"We'll send someone right out."

"Thank you," Holly said quietly, hanging up the phone, and met Ruth's eyes. The woman gave her a pitying look and shook her head. "I'm sorry this is happening in your place. It's so nice here, and dinner was good."

"That boy had so much potential when he was younger."

"He keeps popping that ‘potential' in him, and he's going to end up killing himself or someone else."

"I think it's the only way he deals with the stress…"

"He needs to find a different outlet like the rest of us – God, whittling wood, yoga, fishing, whatever…"

"You don't have to preach to the choir, Beary – I agree with you completely. Let's see if we can walk him up toward the front, away from the other patrons. I hate for them to see Davy wheeled out on a stretcher."

"Yeah, doesn't look good for the business."

"Word will reach his mother, and she's already bad off. Let's not finish the job with this fiasco."

Holly, Ruth, and Jim Petrie managed to lug the boneless man toward the front of the café where there was a bench out front of the shop. Setting Davy down, she could hear the sirens in the distance and sighed heavily once more – only to see him limply dive forward. Holly quickly sat beside him on the bench, afraid he was going to hit his head on the concrete. The ambulance would take him to the clinic – or the nearest hospital, if things went from bad to worse.

The small fire engine pulled up along with an ambulance – and she never understood why the two went hand in hand and stared as a man jumped out of the passenger front seat of the truck, walking over.

A MANLY-man.

A rugged, handsome, sexy man who oozed sex-appeal as he stepped forward in his uniform, speaking to Ruth and Jim like she didn't even exist. Oh, she existed all right – she was currently propping up the ‘problem,' who was drooling on her shoulder and let out a snore.

"What have we got?" one of the paramedics asked her, moving Davy to the stretcher. "How long has he been like this?"

"I was on a blind date with him, and he was acting weird with large pupils – and then took a pink pill in front of me… before this happened," Holly said bluntly, waving her hand.

"Can you tell me about the pill?"

"It was pink," she retorted.

"Big, little, round, triangular, a capsule?"

"Pink – and then in his mouth," she shrugged, feeling utterly stupid right now because she had no clue and it had all happened so fast – and she felt eyes on her. "I don't mean to be difficult; I've just never seen someone actually take drugs in front of me and…"

"Are you clean?"

"Me? Yeah."

"Do we need to get the sheriff?"

"Seriously? Don't get all snotty, Jacob. You know I don't do drugs."

"Just doing my job."

"Actually, I don't think a paramedic is supposed to harass me to see if I did drugs, too. I think your focus is supposed to be on the guy who's currently sawing logs and drooling on the stretcher," she finished, only to see the dreamboat was walking away. He was heading back to the fire truck without so much as a ‘hello,' ‘what's going on', or ‘what's your name' thrown in her direction. Yeah, her brush with the mysterious new firefighter was already over with, and she could go for seconds or thirds, that was for sure.

"Why can't Krista set me up with him instead?" she muttered under her breath and winced as Jacob instantly caught what she'd said aloud.

"You and Captain Pruitt? Seriously?" – and then the troll began laughing loudly, slapping Rodney, the EMT, on the knee. "You hear that load of hooey? Beary's got a massive crush on the newbie, Captain Pruitt!"

"Shut up, Jacob…" she grumbled, feeling her face flush with embarrassment – and really grateful that the fire truck was now leaving.

"Maybe she could check out his undercarriage?"

"Or at least his belts and hoses… get it – firefighter? Hoses?"

"I get it! That's a good one!"

"Perhaps she could…"

"Don't you two have something to be doing?!" she blurted out, painfully mortified and fully aware that she wasn't exactly the town's greatest beauty. No, half the time, her hair was up in a ponytail, her nails were broken, or she was up to her elbows in dirt, grease, and grime. She had taken a bath in brake fluid more than once by mistake, hated the smell of burnt transmission fluid, and had a variety of coolants that would make a stained-glass window envious of the bright colors.

"You and the captain?" the two men were still laughing – and as tears stung her eyes, she walked off angrily. The last thing she was going to do was stick around to be the butt of their jokes.

Right now, she wanted to be alone, go rail at Krista for tonight's fiasco, cry her eyes out behind closed doors, and hide away from it all because no one was ever going to look at ‘Beary' like she was a real woman. In fact, the town thought it was so cute that Barry Beary's daughter had taken up being an automotive mechanic like her father – and ‘little Holly' became ‘Beary' overnight.

"A chip off the ol' block…" she whispered, pulling her denim jacket around her and crossing her arms over her chest as she walked back to her apartment above her garage. "The Beary's can fix anything…"

And it was true.

Holly had been a whiz in her automotive classes, picked up all sorts of tricks from her father before he'd passed away, and was always learning, staying on top of the newest gadgets and gizmos that some of the newer cars had. She even worked on painting in the unused paint booth that her father had put in before he died. He wanted to expand the business since there were two of them now, and she didn't have the heart to sell it – especially since it was paid off.

"G'Night, Beary…"

"Evening," she said simply, waving politely as she walked down the street, passing house after house.

"Weather's still pretty nice, eh?"

"Yup. We're good for at least another month or two before the cold snaps hit."

"Have a nice walk, Beary…"

"Thank you, Mrs. Becker…"

"I'm gonna bring my lawnmower over to get the oil changed, the plug replaced, and the blades sharpened."

"Sounds great, Mr. Sanders."

Yup.

Small town life, and everyone knew everything about you, and gossip spread like wildfire. It was definitely time to go home as quickly as possible before the ‘comments' started – and she could hear them now in her mind.

Heard ol' Davy was strung out again.

You and Davy? Are you on drugs now, too? Your papa would be so ashamed.

I heard you had a thing for the new captain at the fire station.

You have a crush on the firefighter?

You and the captain?

Digging out her keys, she unlocked the door and quickly slid inside as the first tear fell – brushing it away. The scents of brake clean, paper, rubber, and oil welcomed her home… along with the silence and a single flickering nightlight to keep her from tripping on anything.

Holly trudged up the stairs to her small apartment above the garage and plopped down on the well-worn loveseat that was covered with a blanket, tucked carefully to keep it from slipping around. The furniture was just as tired and worn out as she was – or so it felt. She wanted something new, something fun and exciting. Something that welcomed her back.

Right now, life felt like a chore.

She had nothing to look forward to but another oil change, another brake job, another botched blind date, or another series of long days that would drag into weeks or months.

"Or years," she said sadly to the darkness, with a stark comprehension that was sobering and painful to realize. No one was going to date the ‘Tomboy' of town or date ‘Good ol' Beary' because they didn't ‘see' her as a woman. They saw her as Beary's kid, not Beary's daughter. The town saw her as the mechanic who worked on everything from lawnmowers to Lincolns.

They didn't see her as Holly, and that needed to change – somehow.

A few days later, Holly was even more determined to change the way that people saw her in town… and determined not to talk to Krista. She was upset with the other girl because, in Holly's mind – the woman deemed her ‘compatible' with the town druggie.

The. Town. Druggie.

Holly Beary was good enough to swap a set of spark plugs or re-ring the pistons on someone's blown engine, but she wasn't good enough to ask out or girly enough to be someone's ‘Booty Call' (even though she'd say ‘no' in a heartbeat!) It would be flattering to have someone chasing after her because they were interested and honestly...

It would give her hope and a feeling of validation. Right now, she felt like a waste of female space, and that was hard. Nope – her plan was being put into action immediately.

Run=Holly v2.0.exe

"I think," she chuckled, realizing she knew cars and zilch about computer programming. "Either way, change is happening, and it starts tonight."

Grabbing her keys, she locked the doors of the garage and darted out the back door to where her 1967 yellow Mustang Fastback coupe was parked. Yeah, working on cars was a ‘gimmie' when her father surprised her with the keys when she turned fifteen years old.

"Holly-baby-dolly," her father had said gruffly, sitting her down at the table with a straight face. "Now, you are growing up and we need to have a talk about the future. You haven't shown a lot of interest in going to college, cooking, cleaning, or doing other stuff around the house – but every time I'm under the hood, you're there."

"Sorry, Daddy," she had whispered, chagrinned and a little scared he was telling her to get out of the garage while he was working. She was bored, and cars were fun puzzles to figure out.

"Don't apologize," he chuckled, relaxing. "Focus and apply that interest – which is why I'm giving you this now. It's a massive responsibility and just as big of an undertaking. But if you can look past the outside, see the beauty underneath, then I think you'll realize that it's worth all the effort."

"What is it?"

"Here," her father had smiled, pushing a cupcake toward her with a candle… and a small box. She remembered fondly how her hands trembled because this felt so pivotal, so life-altering. Opening the box, she saw the two worn keys – and her eyes shot to his.

"Now, that yellow jalopy is in rough shape…"

"You got me a… car?"

"I did."

"But I can't drive…"

"Yet."

"Wait," Holly exclaimed as it dawned on her what her father was doing. "You got me a car, my own car, for me to work on over the next few years… so I can fix it up and drive it?"

"I want you to learn everything, be able to take care of yourself and take over my business someday. I need to know my girl doesn't need anyone and can be independent, all while maintaining a roof over your head."

Beary closed her eyes for a moment, jamming the keys into the ignition of the old Mustang, and turned it. The feeling of the engine roaring to life always made her think of her father. Maybe that was why she closed her eyes each time she started it up – not because she was praying that it turned over, but because it gave her a chance to see his proud face. That moment when she first got the engine to work, before he died a few months later of a heart attack, would always stick in her mind.

"C'mon, Butter," she whispered to her car, smirking at the nickname she'd given it. She was yellow, drove smooth as silk, and when she hit the gas – the car smeared itself all over the road, fishtailing.

Butter's faded yellow paint job was near glossy from all the love and attention she'd given it over the years during her time off. The headliner was a pale-yellow fabric that she had glued to the old headliner, dotting the ceiling of the car with flowers, lace, and other feminine things. Her seats were recovered white leather because that was her biggest weakness – white leather car seats made her weak at the knees. The floorboards were a pale tan carpet because that was as close as she could get to what fit the car for this model year. She was replacing the dirty seatbelts with yellow ones, complete with a pretensioner kit to fire in the case of an accident.

Oh yes, everything was being upgraded, retrofitted, updated, and feminized to fit her pretty yellow muscle car. Even the license plate said ‘But-her,' announcing her car's name to anyone she drove past.

"You and me, Butter… we are going shopping for girl stuff," she whispered, patting the dash of the car lovingly. "No acting up on the way into the big city, okay?"

Sweet Bloom was a tiny town that was slowly growing in the middle of nowhere, but with the nearest actual city-stuff being almost an hour away, it made certain things tough. Sephora, Claire's Boutique, Ulta, and other blatant girly stores were hard to find, requiring a fairly-good drive away from the small town that time forgot.

Turning up the radio, she chuckled and zipped her wallet shut, tossing it onto the floorboard. She needed that list of things that she'd been thinking of the last few days. Oh yes, by the end of today – Holly was going to be ‘in' on Victoria's Secret, buying all sorts of girly things like the fashion models. She was going to sample and try on different perfumes, buy lipstick, conditioner, a hair dye — well, you name it. If it was designed for a girl, Holly was buying it.

"This town is gonna look at me differently," she muttered under her breath, turning up the radio and slamming her foot onto the clutch as she shifted from reverse into first, sending the back end of the car skidding as the wheels spun to keep up. Laughing happily at the power, she pumped the clutch, throwing it from first to second, shifting once again as she pulled out onto the country road leading out of Sweet Bloom.