Chapter 5

CADE

"Uh, where's she going?" Cade asked bluntly, pointing to the yellow Mustang driving off. "Is she going to fix this dent? If she's a mechanic, does she do body work, too? Is she any good? The blood - is she hurt? Do I need to follow her back to her shop?"

The rush of questions hung in the air between them as the sun rose over the sleepy little town. He was exhausted and in no mood to deal with any of this attitude so early in the morning. All he wanted to do was go home, kick off his boots, and plop down in his recliner to snooze.

"She's not feeling well," the sheriff said simply, looking him straight in the eyes. "You should probably head home and let both of your tempers calm down. I think she needs some time alone."

"If she's hurt, then…"

"She's not hurt, Captain Pruitt, but if you push the matter… you might need the ambulance, not little ol' Beary. I'd give her some space and just be glad your car isn't damaged too badly."

"The belt is coming apart, and I've got a coolant leak. I was actually driving out that way to the shop to get it fixed when she came flying outta nowhere and…"

"Look," the sheriff said evenly. "You're new here, and we all help each other. Why don't you drive your truck over and leave it in the night drop. I'll give you a ride home. Let's allow both of you to calm down. All the fighters can go to their separate corners of the ring, okay?"

Cade looked at the man, then his truck, then back to the sheriff and sighed. It was hard to get upset when life in a small town just moved a little slower than what you could find in the big city. If this was how things worked here, he would have to adjust. It wasn't like there was a bus line he could just hop on – no, he would be at the mercy of their schedule.

And hers.

If she was the local mechanic, then she was who he would need to see about repairing the belt or possibly the pulley on his old truck, if she could do it. He wasn't sure if the radiator could be repaired or if it would need to be replaced – and that would be a bear to find one to fit the 1932 Coupe that he babied terribly. He spent more on maintaining that truck than what others might spend on car payments in a year, but letting the classic truck go wasn't an option. Right now, he was having his doubts that ‘Beary' could fix a sandwich properly and knew if he uttered that aloud, it would be whispered from every mouth in town.

Walking back toward his truck, he saw the stop sign hidden in the bushes and hesitated. He was just as much at fault as she was, because he could have sworn that sign wasn't there moments ago. She flew through her stop sign – and he did the same.

Nope, time to keep your yap shut, Pruitt. No Barry/Beary thoughts uttered aloud, no admission of guilt, no more comments about the woman with enough attitude to level a man's ego, he thought sagely and hesitated.

Man, that was a pretty sweet mustang the woman was driving. If she was actually the mechanic, then she was the one keeping it running, and he paused as he started up his truck to follow the sheriff. Maybe it's Beary's husband who's the mechanic, and she does all the bookkeeping?

Nahhh… that couldn't be it – could it?

She was wearing a filthy get up, and he smelled axle grease from her when she shoved him. Maybe he should have tacked on an assault charge, but right now, he was just pretty ticked that she'd hit his truck. He had liability only, which meant he was out of pocket for the damages – which really weren't too bad after all. Yeah, it was dented, but he could live with that so long as it didn't leave him stranded. The dent could be repaired later when he got around to having it repainted.

"Someday…" he muttered, pulling into the gravel parking lot of the shop. Looking at the sign, he saw that the lights were off downstairs, and the ‘closed' sign was hanging on the door. He could see the trunk of the mustang around the back of the building – along with a Ford Escort on the lift in the garage. Yeah, this was a quaint little place and packed to the gills with all sorts of belts, filters, and repair manuals on shelves along the walls.

"Huh," Sheriff Hart began. "I guess Beary is taking the day off or opening a little later than usual. Why don't you put your keys in the mail slot, and I'll give you a business card, so you can write your name and number down. I'm sure she'll text or call you when she gets your truck pulled in."

Cade looked at his beloved truck and the hole-in-the-wall repair shop skeptically. Yeah, it wasn't exactly a dealership, but it looked well enough. He'd certainly seen worse garages.

"You're sure?"

"Yes. Give her space, and she'll contact you. She might need to finish Sawyer's car first."

"You just know everyone in town, don't you?"

"I get paid to – and it's a joy."

Cade sighed and looked at the other man, realizing that he could use a little attitude adjustment, and this would not be a bad mentality to have. Slow down, breathe, and let the process work – because it had for years and years, obviously. He was straining to make things fit his demands, but maybe he needed to take a moment to realize that it wasn't exactly ‘broken' here, and he was the one who was different.

"I appreciate the advice – and the business card."

"Of course," the sheriff smiled, handing Cade a pen too. "Give it time to get used to us here. I know you've kinda been thrown in the deep-end, and now this – but I promise. You'll love Sweet Bloom as much as the rest of us. Don't give up yet, Captain. We need your expertise and fresh outlook on things."

"I'm no quitter," Cade muttered, jotting down his phone number quickly and depositing it in the mail slot on the front door. He winced as his keys hit the linoleum floor just on the other side of the glass. "And yeah, this has been a heck of a welcome, to say the least."

"Let's get you home."

Cade nodded, glancing back at his keys once more – and climbing into the patrol car. Thankfully, it was early enough that not many people saw him, and he was able to dip down in the seat, so maybe he wouldn't be privy to being the talk of the town once again.

Three dates, three different girls, one place, and now Cade just wrecked his truck into the town's favorite mechanic, who happened to be a girl with a crush on him – and the whole town knew it. To top it all off, he would need her help getting his car repaired.

"Dang it, I'm never going to live this down," he muttered under his breath and ignored the knowing smile from the sheriff.

A day later, Cade was starting to wonder if his cell phone was working. Two days later, he was beginning to panic because he had yet to hear from Beary about his truck. He tried calling the shop several times, but with no answer and after the fourth try – he left a brief message.

"Hey, Beary, this is Cade Pruitt, calling about my truck. If you can call me when you get this…" and rattled off his phone number before hanging up and staring at the phone – willing it to ring. Silence greeted him, and finally, he was getting frustrated. He had to go back to work day after tomorrow and could really use his truck or an update if they had to order parts.

Throwing on a clean T-shirt, Cade began the long walk toward the town square and hesitated. Maybe he would make this a ‘purposeful' walk so that way the people in town didn't start to put the pieces together about him walking over to the shop.

Popping into the general store, he smiled and greeted a few people shopping about. He really didn't need anything, but he might as well pick up a few items just to make sure he was seen in a few places. There was no way he was going to be the butt of the town's gossip, especially when everyone seemed to know everything – and they effectively worked to bring everyone together.

The town was like a big family, and Cade had never felt more like an outsider than he did right now. Crossing the street, he saw the open garage doors of Beary's shop and nearly saw red. His truck had been moved and was parked, and she obviously hadn't bothered to call him.

Sighing heavily, he strode forward trying not to blow his top as his mind swirled with frustration. As he got closer, Cade saw Beary do a double-take and then look away, focusing on whatever she was doing on the bottom of the car in the air.

Not his car, mind you, someone else's car.

"Well, hello," Cade called out, trying to be friendly.

"Hey," she said simply, not looking at him – and he frowned. This was not going to plan, and he gnashed his teeth. She was supposed to have a crush on him, right? Why was she deliberately ignoring him?

"I see you moved my truck," he began again. "Did you hear the noise from the engine? I was hoping to get it worked on and thought you might have called when you saw it parked out front."

Hint, hint, he thought sarcastically. And nudge, nudge?!

"Yep."

"Yep, you heard the noise?" he tried once more, keeping his temper in check. "Yep, you moved the truck… or yep, you'll work on it?"

"Yep," she repeated, pulling something off the car, and a fount of oil poured forth, splashing into a large flat pan on top of a weird pole-looking thing that had a barrel on the bottom.

"Yep, to all of it?"

"Nope," she said simply, reaching up a filthy hand into the engine compartment and grunting with effort to reach something – glaring at him. Her mulishly grim expression as she stared at him was combined with her lips pressed together giving her a mouth a distinct ‘frown' as a line appeared between her brows.

She was mad.

It didn't take a genius to realize that. It was just a matter of figuring out what really made her so angry that she was holding a grudge several days later. The woman was obviously going to let him stew or figure it out on his own by giving him one-word answers. Women were frustrating, he thought silently, plastering on a very tight smile on his face.

"How's Butter?"

"Fine."

"How are you? Are you injured or any lasting effects of the accident?" he said simply, trying to keep things positive between them and saw a couple walking past the shop, gawking at the two of them. They were standing as far apart as possible that two people could be and still be considered close enough to have a conversation.

"Afternoon y'all. Nice weather, isn't it?"

"Hey, Bennie and Marianne," Beary called out with a completely different tone. The woman sounded happy, gentle, almost downright friendly toward the couple pushing the stroller. "How's Adam?"

"Growin' like a weed, Beary," the woman called out politely, smiling.

"I'm glad to hear it. Keep my little Sweet-Pea-Adam outta the sun, or he'll freckle like you, Bennie…" Beary called out, chuckling, as she sprayed some chemical on her hands cleaning them off and wiping them on a shop rag that she tucked in her pocket. The couple and this mysterious yet frustrating person, Beary, were downright chatty, yet she barely spoke to him.

What kind of backward crush was this?

For a moment, Cade wondered if he misunderstood what the guys had been saying at the fire station. The woman named Marianne elbowed her husband and angled her head, giving him a stare as if to say, ‘The gossip is true! They are talking!'. Yeah, he hadn't misunderstood at all, but something was definitely ‘off,' and he was still trying to put his finger on the pulse of it.

As the couple walked past, casting another look over their shoulders before whispering to each other, Cade turned toward Beary. Her hard eyes were watching him as she unwrapped an oil filter, stuck her finger in the pan getting a bit of oil on it, and dragged it across the gasket before shoving her arm up into the engine compartment again – again giving him the silent treatment.

"So," he began again, praying for patience. "You are okay, your car is going to be okay, and you heard the noise from the belt on my truck? Did you see the coolant leak?"

"Yep," she replied flatly, pressing her lips together. "I'm kinda working here."

"I see that."

And nothing.

She simply gave him a hostile look and then yanked her arm out of the engine compartment, spraying that chemical she'd sprayed on her hands earlier all over the undercarriage.

"Do you think you might be working on my truck soon or…"

"Nope," she retorted, not even looking his way as she continued to spray the brake clean along the bottom of the car.

"And why not?" he snapped, trying not to become hostile as he jabbed his hands into his pockets, looking at her. The handle of the grocery bag was pinching his wrist, but he had to put his hands somewhere to keep from balling them up or throttling the frustrating woman.

She turned and gave him a long stare before speaking.

"I am refusing to service your vehicle – until you apologize."

Cade was pretty sure his eyes nearly popped out of his head, and if a nurse or doctor took his blood pressure right now, they would hospitalize him. He could hear his heart pounding in his head and was beyond furious, and this curvy woman before him was getting under his skin in the worst way possible.

"Fine," he spat. "I'm sorry."

"Apology not accepted."

Oh. My. Gosh! Cade made a small noise that was obviously loud enough for Beary to hear it. The irritating woman lifted an eyebrow and kept working on the car, ignoring him.

"I meant it sincerely," he ground out between his teeth.

"Noooo," she retorted. "You said the words because you want me to work on your truck – and you most assuredly did not mean it at all. You are manipulating me to get your way."

Cade swore loudly and turned to walk away – only to turn back around and do the one thing that would not help his case in the slightest.

He lost his temper.

"Heaven help your husband," he hissed angrily, pointing a finger at her. "And if you aren't married, I can see why! Whatever has your knickers in a twist – fix it."

He saw her eyes shutter as she gave him a dead-pan stare, unmoving. The silence between them was staggering; each drip of brake fluid from the oil pan onto the ground sounded like a loud plop. He could hear the tick of the clock on the wall of her shop, and his heart hammered in his chest.

"Are you finished?"

"Are you going to get me an estimate to fix my car?"

"Nope."

Cade stormed off without uttering another word.