Chapter 26

Brock

I didn't expect Jamie to say yes.

I was wearing the clothes I used to wear to trade fairs, figuring they were parent friendly, but that didn't prepare me for this feeling of unreality. I barely felt the steps as we ran down them, only her. Her fingers clenched tightly around mine as we got to the car park, and that's when she saw my other surprise.

Millie might bring Jamie Nutella croissants, but I knew what really made my girl tick.

"Whoa…"

"Oh, nice, bro," Millie said, sidling up to me as Jamie pulled free and walked towards my ride for the day. It was one my girl had never seen, a project I'd worked long into the night by myself. Her hands went up, as if the car was a wild beast and she needed to gentle it before she could take a ride, but it was going nowhere.

A‘73 Holden HQ GTS.

The golden paint glowed in the early morning sunlight, her eyes shining just as brightly as she stared at it.

"So, are we taking my car or yours?" I asked oh-so casually.

"Oh my god…" Jamie hissed. "Oh my god." She spun around, eyes wide, all traces of pain gone, and that's what I'd wanted all along. "Is this…? Did you…?"

"It's mine." I fished out the keys and then held them out. "But you could drive if you like?"

"I can?" Jamie stared and then snatched the keys from my grip, as if terrified I'd rescind my offer.

Never.

Not when she stroked her hand down the panel, nor when she opened it up, cooing over the custom leather upholstery before sliding into the driver's seat. She pushed the keys into the ignition and started it, the sound of a big, rumbly V8 engine echoing through the street.

"Some guys bring girls flowers," Millie said with a shake of her head. "You bring her some petrol-guzzling beast." Then her eyes locked with mine. "But don't stuff this up. Don't push too hard and don't try to rush her. Jamie's gun shy most of the time, but now?—"

"I know." I stared back. "I've known for a while. You can't work with someone for that many years and not know, but…" When I poked my sister in the shoulder, she knocked my hand away. "You need to butt right out."

"I'm just looking out for?—"

"Look out for yourself." Millie always stood up to me, but what was cute when she was five was just annoying now. "I was trying to do things on Jamie's timeline when you got involved."

"Because you guys were taking sooo long," Millie complained, right as Jamie revved the engine.

I moved closer, ready to throw myself into the passenger seat if my girl decided to go racing down the street.

"As long as it takes." I made clear in my stare that I'd accept no further argument from Millie. "I've got the rest of my life to help her see I'm the right man for her, and if that's how long she needs, I'll make that happen."

"Ready?" Jamie asked me, a real grin of pleasure on her face as I got in the passenger side.

"Born ready, babe."

She threw the car in gear and then pressed down on the accelerator, peeling out of the car park with a squeal.

Where was that girl now? I thought when we arrived. She was sitting there, peering through the windscreen at the cafe. It wasn't whether or not they could cook good, crispy bacon that had her hesitating. I just sat there, a silent witness to her internal struggle, until she noticed. Her eyes found mine, and that flush of shame I saw way too often coloured her cheeks.

"I guess we better go inside."

"We don't have to." Where had that come from? I wondered, but as soon as I said the words, I knew them to be true. "We don't have to do anything."

"But Mum?—"

"Keep your phone turned off," I said. "I'll turn the work one off. We can piss off out of here and go down to the local race track." I went down there sometimes, giving the car its head as I tore around the strip at speeds I would never dare reach on the road. "I've got a spare helmet and suit."

She stared at me, really staring, longing in her eyes, but then she shook her head.

"I need to go in or I'll never hear the end of this, but…" She pulled the keys out of the car and handed them over. "Maybe after? It'll be like the promise of dessert after a gross meal."

"Like tuna mornay?" I asked.

"God, yeah, like tuna mornay."

At that I was out of the car, opening her door for her and then offering my arm. She smiled at that but took it, and so we walked into the cafe. We didn't need to be shown to a table, Jamie's mother instantly recognisable. The same light-brown hair was streaked with grey, but fashionably shaped into a razor sharp bob that always had us cringing when a woman entered the garage with that kind of hairstyle. While they weren't always high maintenance, enough were for us to be wary.

"Jamie!" she hissed, jerking to her feet, then looking around before marching up to us, her face turning red, but her heels almost screeched on the tiles when she came to an abrupt stop. She looked up at me and then smiled, all sweetness and light. "Oh, you brought Brock! Lovely to meet you. I'm Majorie and this is Arthur, Jamie's father."

A big, older man with sunburnt skin looked up from his paper, blinking myopically before smiling when he saw Jamie.

"Hello, love!"

I watched his daughter soften, going rushing over to her father for a big hug, the affection genuine.

"Always been a daddy's girl, my daughter," Majorie said in a tight voice. "So, Jamie says you're her boss?"

"I own the workshop, yes," I said. "As we discussed last night."

"Yes, of course!" she waved that imposition away with a flap of her hand. "I admit I was probably a bit abrupt. Jamie's always had a flair for the dramatic. I should've realised that before I called you."

"Dramatic?" I frowned slightly. "She was hurting. I hurt her. I didn't mean to, but I did."

"Oh well, you'll work through that." Majorie's tone was completely dismissive. "I can't tell you how many times Arthur and I have quarrelled, but we always make up before bed."

Did they? Or did he just admit defeat? I thought.

"You'll learn to do the same once you're married."

She put a hand on my arm and then dragged me closer, the woman surprisingly strong for such a tiny lady.

"And who's this then?"

Arthur didn't let Jamie go, but I saw some tension in the arm hooked around her shoulders as he looked me up and down.

"This is Jamie's boss and boyfriend, darling," Majorie said in a placating voice. "Brock, this is Jamie's father, Arthur."

"Nice to meet you, Arthur," I said, thrusting out a hand. He gave it a grudging shake, firm, but not ridiculously so. His attention returned to Jamie though as he steered her over to the table.

"They look like they've got a good spread here, love. Bacon, eggs, sausage?—"

"I was thinking a couple of egg white omelettes for us girls," Majorie said. "No cheese, of course."

I frowned and then looked at Jamie as she sat down beside me. Omelette? I mouthed, never having seen her eat anything like that and she gagged silently, right until Majorie looked our way.

"Though you boys will want a big cooked breakfast."

"I think we both do, don't we, babe?" Jamie's eyes narrowed at the pet name, but I just smiled. "Never known you to eat omelettes."

"Well, as I keep telling my daughter, a woman needs to work hard to maintain her figure," Majorie twittered.

"She does." I let my eyes run down Jamie's form, noting the semi-translucent linen shirt and looking past it to the shadows of her body. "On bacon and egg sandwiches and coffee so sweet I'm surprised the spoon doesn't stand up on its own."

"See, Marge," Arthur said. "You can have an omelette if you like, but we'll have a proper breakfast. So…" He waved a waiter over and then turned to me. "Tell me more about this business of yours."

So I did. Once we put our orders in, Majorie's mouth getting tighter and tighter at each item we added, I gave Arthur an honest overview of the garage's performance, remembering the key points the accountant went through with me. He nodded along, those keen eyes of his making clear he understood everything I discussed and then shot me a measured look.

"So you've got prospects then. Good, good."

"So do I." Jamie shot him a dry look. "Seeing as I've been working since I was seventeen."

"But you're not married, don't own your own place yet." Did Arthur see how hard his dismissive remarks hit his daughter? "No security. What if something happened to you?"

"What if something happened to Brock?" Jamie replied sharply, earning her a reproving look from her mother. "What if something happened to you?"

"Your mother is looked after, don't you worry," Arthur said, then smiled as a waiter returned with our coffees. Jamie wrapped her hands about hers as if she needed warming up. My arm went around her, tucking her into my side, something that had her looking at me gratefully. "I just want the same security for you."

"She has the same as anyone else," I replied. "A solid job and an excellent reputation."

"And what other boss would hire a woman mechanic?" Arthur scoffed.

"Plenty. I've had blokes approach me about Jamie to see if she was interested in working with them."

"Really?" she said. "You never told me that."

"For selfish reasons." I met Jamie's gaze for a second, making clear the double meaning. "Didn't want my best mechanic leaving. But in answer to your question, things have changed. Plenty of people recognise that female mechanics are often cleaner, quicker, less likely to come in late after being on the piss all night, and if you're competent, there's no reason why you can't make good money."

I shook my head.

"The trades have been looked down upon for generations. Perhaps you wanted Jamie to go to university rather than trade school?" Arthur looked away guiltily. "Most parents feel the same way, pushing their kids towards white-collar work, but that means there's not enough people to service their cars, fix their power points or install their air conditioners. A proficient tradesperson is making better and better money, simply because demand is outstripping the amount of qualified workers."

"So you'd want Jamie to keep working if you got married?"

Majorie's nose wrinkled like she was smelling a vile fart.

"I'd want her to be happy." I felt like I was speaking another language, one she didn't understand and never would. A hand slid across my seat and then wrapped around mine. I looked down to see it was Jamie's, then met her gaze. It was softer now, some of the tension having leaked away. "Isn't that what all parents want?"

Both Arthur and Majorie sucked in breaths to answer, but we were saved from that speech by the appearance of our food. The waiter did their best to ignore the awkward air as they placed our plates in front of us. Jamie grabbed her knife and fork, ready to tuck in when Majorie shot her a dark look.

Bloody hell, it was all making sense now. Most blokes were pretty nervous when meeting his girl's parents for the first time, but this? It was like picking your way through a minefield of unspoken resentments and prejudices and you could never relax, less you set a bomb off.

"This looks amazing," I said, steering things back to a safer topic. "I'm starving. What about you, babe?"

Jamie smiled then, just a small thing, but I'd take it.

"Starving," she replied and then dug in.