Drive Me Wild - Melanie Harlow Page 0,15
already threatening to blow. “Are you sure?” I asked.
“Of course I’m sure.”
“And you’re okay answering the phone too?”
She rolled her eyes. “Seriously?”
“Sorry, but you don’t strike me as the type to have had a lot of experience being a receptionist.”
“I’m pretty sure I can handle it.”
“Okay. I’m going to get a few quick things out of the way and then I’ll look at your car. I’ll discount the labor in exchange for your work at the desk.”
“Perfect.” She smiled brightly at me, and my stomach muscles tightened up. I turned away and headed for the garage, coffee cup in hand.
“Oh, Griffin?”
I looked back at her and felt the tightness expand into my chest. “Yeah?”
“Should I answer the phone in French or in English?”
I stared at her for a full five seconds, wondering if she was serious, before she lost it and burst out laughing.
“Oh my God, you should see your face,” she said, shooing me out. “Go on, get out of here. I have work to do.”
Shaking my head, I turned around and walked out. It was the first time I’d smiled all morning.
Inside the first service bay, Handme was fixing a coolant leak on a Honda and McIntyre was hunting around the floor near the tool cabinets for something he’d dropped (probably the 10mm socket).
“You really need to think about hiring a full-time desk person,” McIntyre said. “We’re getting behind back here without you.”
I frowned. “I can’t afford one. I’m still paying my mother.”
“Is she ever coming back?”
“Why? Do you miss her nagging?”
McIntyre laughed. “She nagged you more than me.”
“Hey, Griffin?” called Blair from the doorway.
“Yeah?”
“Someone from the bank is on the phone. Do you want to talk to him or should I take a message?”
“I’ll talk to him. I’ll pick it up back here.”
“Okay. I’ll ask him to hold.”
“Who is that?” McIntyre’s eyes were wide.
The female voice had drawn Handme’s attention too, and he moved closer to hear the answer.
“For the moment, that’s our receptionist.”
“But who is she?” McIntyre was still staring after her.
“Her name is Blair Beaufort,” I said. “That’s her MG outside. She blew a tire last night, but I need to look over the entire vehicle as soon as I can. I’m just trying to make space in here.”
“Is she new in town?” he asked. “I know I’ve never seen her before. I’d remember.”
“She’s just passing through,” I told them. “I’ll explain it after I talk to the bank.”
“Is this about the loan?” McIntyre wondered.
“I hope so.”
“Think they approved it?”
“Guess we’ll find out.” But I didn’t allow my hopes to rise as I headed for the phone at the back of the garage. I knew better.
This was the third time I’d tried to get a loan in the last year. Swifty Auto was hurting us badly. Plus, my dad had struggled to pay back loans he’d gotten years ago, and I’d inherited a lot of debt along with the business. I was sure he’d planned to get it all straightened out before he retired, but he’d died before he had the chance, and now I was supporting my mother too.
Banks all said the same thing—I was too big a risk.
I knew we could improve with some investment in training and tools, and my sister was always on me about renovating the lobby. “People want to see a nice, welcoming room when they come in,” she’d say. “You don’t need a fancy chandelier, but would it kill you to get some nicer chairs? Some better coffee? A new rug?”
I always argued back that it shouldn’t matter what the damn lobby looked like. The important thing was the work, and I knew we did good work—excellent work, in fact. And we could be even better. But without the loan, it wouldn’t happen.
This was exactly why I didn’t get my heart set on anything that mattered.
You wound up feeling like a failure every fucking time.
Four
Blair
The first thing I did was water that poor plant in the lobby.
Grabbing my empty coffee cup, I found the tiny bathroom down the hall and turned on the faucet. As the cup began to fill, I glanced at my reflection in the mirror above the sink. I’d done the best I could with my hair, which definitely could’ve benefited from some shampoo and conditioner, but I hadn’t felt right using Griffin’s shower without permission. I wasn’t a homeless person. I was just . . . temporarily sans maison.
That wasn’t the same thing at all, was it?
I’d wanted to do something nice for Griffin