Since when does that matter? “I’ll deal with him. Go do some work and for God’s sake, keep your mouth shut.”
My employees scatter like cockroaches as I stomp across the small parking lot toward my office. Whatever’s left of my good mood completely vanishes the moment I rip open the door. A strange man is sitting in my chair.
I can feel my hair burning.
The chair bounces back as he stands quicker than if there was a fire under his ass. He squeezes past my desk, grimacing.
He’s old money. I can’t really pinpoint it on any one thing. Maybe it’s his air of scumbag entitlement combined with his Calvin Klein polo and khaki shorts. He smiles, and I’m momentarily blinded by the whiteness of his teeth. Veneers.
Good God.
“Hi, I’m Mark Cranbury.”
Stupid fucking name.
He extends a hand, several thick gold rings on his fingers. Class of 2005. Must be a high school ring. I didn’t even know they made high school rings.
Ignoring the hand, I shut the door behind me. “That’s my seat.”
Mark takes his hand back, a goofy smile playing on his lips. “Oh, apologies. I was waiting for a while, and the other seat…” he gives the plastic chair a disdainful look.
“Something wrong?”
A furtive look. “No, no! Nothing wrong.”
Fuck Frozen. I’m not letting this go. It might be a dumb thing to be angry about, but I don’t care. He’s under my skin. “Then why did you take my chair?”
“I have a really bad back and I need proper ergonomics whenever I sit.” He stops suddenly and smiles to himself. “Never mind. You don’t even know what that is.”
I’ve dealt with people like him. Hell, I run into Cranburys every year when the snow starts falling and the ski resorts open. The rich elite who treat service people like trash, or worse, like we’re empty-headed morons. Fuck them for thinking I’m dumb because I didn’t shell out tens of thousands for a fancy piece of paper on the wall.
“You think because I’m blue collar, I don’t know what ergonomics is?”
Flustered, he rakes his hands through his thin hair. I can’t help but notice the lack of a wedding band. So they’re not married. Good.
“That’s not what I said.”
“That’s what you meant. Who the hell do you think you are?”
His eyes roll back to his head before falling to the side. “Whatever, man. It’s been a long drive and I’ve been waiting here for half an hour in the heat with no air-conditioning and nothing to drink in this cramped little place.”
Wow. Does he not realize that I don’t give a fuck? “Shut the hell up and get out of my office.”
“Listen, buddy. I don’t know where the hell you come off talking to me like that—”
I lean forward an inch, and that’s enough to make quiet. “Slow down and try again. The name is sir or Mr. Carter, not buddy.”
A sneer replaces the brief show of fear. “I’m looking for a woman, Mr. Carter. My fiancé. She stopped by here yesterday to get her car repaired. Her name is Olivia Stewart.”
There’s no good reason why I shouldn’t help this guy, except for the feeling gripping my stomach. Telling me not to do what I ought to. He’s her fiancé, but she clearly doesn’t want to be found.
I look at him dead center. “Don’t know an Olivia.”
A furrow appears in his brow. “That Toyota in your garage is hers. You know, the blue one.”
The blue one. Is he fucking joking? “Thanks for pointing that out. I never would’ve figured out which one was the Toyota.”
“There’s no need to be rude, man. I was just trying to jog your memory. She was here yesterday.”
“Wow, really? Must have slipped my mind.” My face tightens with a smirk as panic starts to crack through Mark’s cool composure.
His indignant voice breaks the brief silence. “Your coworker admitted that she was here yesterday.”
I’m just a dumb mechanic, remember? “Hmm. I guess he remembers her and I don’t.”
An ugly red flush crawls up his neck. “Don’t play me for a fool, Carter—”
“—Mister Carter.”
A dangerous glint appears in his eyes. “Mister Carter, then. Are you aware of who I am? You did hear my last name correctly, right? I’m a Cranbury.”
I know who he is. His daddy is a real estate mogul. You can hardly go anywhere in America without bumping into a Cranbury property. They’ve got a hotel chain that puts Hilton to