Chapter Four

CAM

"Want me to stay for the interviews?" Shelby asks after locking the customer door at closing time.

"Nah, I can handle it. You've listened to enough people today."

My sister took over running the office end of things when our mom died. She'd helped out before then, but there's a big difference between part-time assistant to your mother, and the shitload of duties and responsibilities that come with being the solitary office manager. Especially in a small shop like ours.

Shelby has come a long way in eighteen months. Knows a hell of a lot more about cars and how they work, can estimate almost any repair job on her own, talks with parts suppliers with confidence, juggles the constantly ringing double phone lines like a magician. But when a customer goes asshole on her… she hasn't learned to navigate that shit yet. Fortunately, it doesn't happen often.

It's usually Dad who has her back when it does. Because his bays are directly behind the office, and even when he's busting his ass on cars, he still has one eye on the front. Even though Shelby is twenty-six, she's still Daddy's little girl, and he swoops in to the rescue. Plus, it's his business, and customers like talking to "the owner." Someone who might not accept Shelby's word on their car troubles will almost always respect my dad's.

Today was one of those days when Dad's presence was sorely missed. By the time Shelby came out to my bay on the opposite side of the shop, she was in tears because some idiot up front was giving her shit about the quote for his repairs. Knowing how fucking slammed with work I am, she tried to field all the questions and snarly comments on her own, but she still doesn't have adequate knowledge. The asshole on the other side of the desk smelled blood and went in for the kill.

My dad has a calmness about him that can defuse just about any conflict. I'm like him in many ways, but that's not one of them. I wasn't completely unprofessional to the guy who insulted my sister. But I didn't take the time to hear him out or answer his questions. I just walked into the office, ripped up his quote, and told him to find another shop.

Bad for business? Possibly. Good for my sister's mental health? Fucking right, it was.

"If you're sure…" Shelby glances over at me while inputting all the daily numbers in the spreadsheets she inherited from our mom.

"Positive, Shelb. It's only two people, because that stack of applicants was basically a pile of shit, and I'm talking to them together to save time."

She wrinkles her nose at me the way she's done since we were kids. "Is that how technicians are usually interviewed?"

"No idea. I've never had an interview."

"I know that, obviously. I just thought you might've called Tim or Kenny, or one of the other many friendly industry people you're acquainted with, for some advice." She rolls her eyes when I look at her as if she just suggested I drink a big glass of sour milk. "You're a great mechanic, Cam. Everybody in town knows that. Nobody would think less of you because you ask for some hiring tips before you take your first crack at it."

"I don't need help figuring out who'll be a good tech. I'll know."

"God, you're stubborn." Shelby shakes her head while grabbing her purse from the adjacent breakroom. "Am I right, Isabel, or am I right?"

Pretty sure my head has never snapped around as fast it does when I follow the line of Shelby's gaze.

"One hundred percent," Isabel says, approaching the counter. She must have come into the shop through the open bay, then into the vestibule through the parts delivery door, neither of which would make the monitoring system ping. She folds her arms on top of the counter as if being here is an everyday thing. Like she's been here all along. Like she's one of us.

I could get used to that. Hell, I'm already used to it.

Yesterday afternoon, I was pissed off that I let Tony guilt me into looking at Isabel's car. I didn't want to have to face the girl who'd followed me around like a lovesick puppy. Flip the calendar one day and it's a whole other story. I've been watching the damn clock all day, waiting for her to get here, hoping she didn't decide not to bother. I can't take my fucking eyes off of her. Who's the puppy now?

"What's he being stubborn about today?" Isabel's full pink lips form a smile that's directed at me.

"Won't ask for help," Shelby says, cutting around the counter.

"Shocking."

Shelby laughs, pausing to pat Isabel's shoulder. "You're back one day and you already get him."

"Yeah, but I've heard he's not hard to get."

"Ouch, burn." Shelby leans over the counter and presses a finger on me, making a sizzling noise. Taking a page out of Isabel's book. Having lighthearted fun for the first time in longer than I can remember. "Actually, Cam has settled down a lot the past couple years. Though, that might be because he's run through all the single ladies in town and is out of options. Ooh, but now you're here." My sister's gaze darts between Isabel and I. "And there's definitely chemistry…" she singsongs.

"Friendship chemistry, that's all." One of Isabel's perfect, dark eyebrows rises. "Besides, I found out last night that Cam already has a true love." She leans in as if she's going to tell Shelby a secret, but her gaze is still tethered to mine as she says in a full-volume mock-whisper, "He's in a committed, long-term relationship with his truck."

Shelby erupts in a fit of giggles. "Oh, I knew that already. But did you know he's polyamorous?"

"What the fuck is polyamorous?" I cut in.

The women ignore my question, continuing to talk about me as if I'm not sitting right in front of them.

"And he gave me this heartfelt speech about how he'd never want any other truck." Hand on her chest, Isabel looks me up and down—what she can see of me, anyway. "Not going to lie, I was moved. Now, I feel so dirty for believing him."

I shake my head and roll my eyes. It's for show, just like Isabel's act. The way her playful teasing makes me feel is real, though. Good in a way I've never experienced.

Shelby's enjoying the Isabel effect, too. She's been so serious since our mom passed. She deserves this moment of fun and camaraderie.

"Oh, his other one isn't a truck. Well, not technically," Shelby says. "Pretty sure that's why he thinks it's okay to enjoy them both. Not only that, they're…related."

"No," Isabel hisses.

"Yup." Shelby nods. "Same parent company."

"I'm scandalized." Isabel places the back of one hand on her forehead, using the other to fan herself. "I never thought Cam would be the kind of man to Ford around."

Another round of rowdy yet feminine giggles fill the office. The place feels alive again.

"All right, comedy hour's over, wiseasses," I say, pointing at the door when I see two cars pull into the parking lot. "My interviewees are here. With any luck, one of them will start tomorrow."

"Fingers crossed!" Shelby gives the gesture to go with her words, then waves at Isabel and leaves through the customer door, leaving it unlocked.

Isabel joins me behind the counter, making herself at home on Shelby's preferred stool. "Hiring someone would mean you'd stop working after the shop is closed?"

"Ideally, yeah. Knowing you'll be hanging out here every night lit a fire under my ass to get someone in here, ASAP."

"I see." She hops off the seat as the monitoring system announces the front door opening with the arrival of the potential hires. "I'll wait outside while you do your interviews. Good luck."

It's a hot, sticky, July afternoon, and there's no AC in here, yet when Isabel walks past me, I swear there's an ice-cold breeze.

ISABEL

There's no shade and nowhere to sit in front of the shop. I was overheated when I got here—biking in the blazing sunshine will do that—but the level of heat churning inside me now makes my previous body temperature feel like I went for a polar-bear dip. Every second I think about Cam pushes me closer to erupting in flames.

Not sexy flames, like last night, when he grabbed my hips and pressed me against the car he was working on. Sweet baby Jesus. Yes, I froze up, but the moment itself was hot.

But nothing happened, and this hot moment is the complete opposite—though not unrelated, which makes me even madder. Which then makes me even hotter. I'm a mess. A hot, miserable, sexually frustrated, emotionally tangled mess.

I should just leave. That's what he wants. He told me so last night, point blank. But did I listen? Of course not. Do I ever do the sensible thing? Rarely. If that was my MO, I wouldn't have peeled out of my previous life like my ass was on fire.

Forcing myself on Cam after hours was rooted in sensibility, though. It isn't safe for him to work alone. I saw firsthand how tired he was. Accidents can happen anytime, but working while exhausted certainly increases the likelihood.

I care about him, even after being gone for twelve years. Also, no matter what decision I made about not having a crush on him anymore, the stupid feelings came rushing back the minute I saw him. My heart is all "fuck your decisions, lady, I want what I want" and it still wants Cam.

Too bad I'm not ready to want Cam, and he clearly doesn't want me, despite our brief sexy-hot moment.

"That was fucking weird."

At the sound of a male voice that doesn't belong to Cam, I tuck myself around the corner of the building, out of sight, then angle to get a sliver of a peek at the voice's owner. Both guys Cam is supposed to be interviewing are in the parking lot already.

"I've never been to an interview where I'm not the only candidate in the room. But whatever. It was the lack of questions that's fucked up," the same voice says as the guys walk to their respective vehicles. "And then to tell us both no thanks? Based on what, buddy? Our haircuts?"

Guy number two snorts. "Maybe he didn't know what to ask, what with it being a family business and all. He got his job the easy way."

"Good point," guy number one agrees.

Not that long ago, I'd have gotten in their faces and given them the hell they deserve for shit-talking about Cam. Now, all I can do is stand there and silently seethe. Those pricks have no idea how hard Cam works. He didn't get his position easily, because his dad handed it to him. He earned it.

"There you are," Cam says when I step out from my hiding place after their cars pull away. "I thought maybe you left."

"I considered it." I tip my chin up. Just because I feel defensive about him doesn't give Cam a pass for what he said to me in the office. "But it's unsafe for you to be banging away on cars with nobody else around, so, sorry about your shitty luck, but you're stuck with me until you replace me. Also, I'm still too damn hot from the trip over here to get back on my bike and ride across town." I hook a finger in the direction of the street. "I take it the interviews didn't go well. Not surprising, they were obviously jerks."

Cam's dark eyebrows draw together, creating furrows on his forehead. "How do you know they were jerks? Did they say something to you? Do something?" At his sides, his hands curl into fists. "Is that why you were down the side of the building?"

I can be pissed off at Cam and still appreciate his protectiveness toward me. It's one of the things I used to love about him. Wherever Cam was, was the safest place in the world. It still might be. "They didn't even know I was out here. I overheard them talking about how you barely asked them any questions before turning them down."

"I didn't have to ask a lot to know neither of them was right for the job."

"Then there's no point wasting more time on them. You'll know the right person when you find them."

"Yeah," he says, his eyes traveling over my face. "I think I will."

Little butterflies take wing in my belly. Foolish, infatuated butterflies that would like his words and gaze to mean more than they do.

"Did you really ride your bicycle over here? And to work this morning?" He rubs his fingers back and forth over his head when I nod. "Couldn't get a taxi?"

"Didn't try. Cabs aren't cheap, and I'm saving my pennies to pay for that hot mess," I say, pointing at my car, where Cam parked it until he has time to fix it—which could be weeks away. "And first and last on an apartment, when I find one. Plus, there's nothing wrong with biking."

"Except sweating your ass off and potentially getting struck by a motorized vehicle."

"I rode on the sidewalk."

"Still not safe." A pained, heaving sigh leaves his handsome face. "Did you at least wear a helmet?"

"I would have if I had one. I get half marks for that, right?" I ask in my look how cute I'm being voice, which totally misses the mark, based on his scowl.

"You get zero marks, Iz. For someone who's so concerned about my safety, you're pretty lax with your own."

"Well, for someone who can't wait to be rid of me, you sure seem to care if I'm okay."

"Of course I care," he says. No denial about wanting to be rid of me. At least he's not a liar.

"I know you care." I sigh. "I'm your best friend's little sister."

"That's part of the reason. Not all of it. I've always liked you for you. Even when you were a kid. And now that you're not a kid…"

We're outside, yet it feels like all the air has been sucked out from between us. Like we're vacuum-sealed in a bubble that the wrong word or action could burst.

But I can't say nothing. I have to know. "And now that I'm not a kid…what, Cam?"

"You're even more likeable. Likeable in ways I wasn't prepared for, and can't commit to."

"Because your heart belongs to your immaculate, ninth-gen F-150 and whatever mysterious Ford sibling you've got stashed away somewhere, I know." Humor is the saver of all things. My go-to diversion technique to prevent the big, bad serious thing, whatever that thing might be.

It doesn't always work. Right now, with Cam, it has the desired effect, because a smile replaces his everything is doomed, run for your life! expression.

"On the subject of my other Ford," he says, motioning for me to follow him. "How do you feel about closing up shop for the day, tossing your bike in the back of my truck, and going for a drive with me?"

"Don't you have at least three more hours of work to do before you start all over again tomorrow at the butt crack of dawn?" I trail him into the garage, scooting out the way as he uses a heavy chain mechanism to manually lower the bay door, then secures it with a thick, flat deadbolt.

"Before the butt crack, Isabel."

"Oh shit. I just realized that I should be here for those hours, too. God, babysitting you is a lot of work."

"Having second thoughts about volunteering?"

I shrug. "Maybe one or two."

"Pretty low, considering. But you get a break tonight. Just this once, work is going to take a backseat."

"Get back there, endless list of jobs." I make a whipping gesture, complete with perfect sound effects. "Cam's in the driver's seat tonight." I may never be more to him than his best friend's little sister, a semi-annoying goofball friend, but being that, and making him laugh… way better than hanging on to old fantasies from a wedding scrapbook.