She met my eyes and her smile widened. “That’s so sweet of you to say.”
“What can I do for you, dear?”
“Well, I’m wondering about your 1970 Pontiac. The GTO?”
“Beautiful car.”
“It really is. When we talked earlier, did you say you have someone coming to take a look at it?”
“Yes, a guy coming from out of state. Seems pretty interested.”
“Did you already agree to sell it to him?”
“No, no, I can’t let one of my babies go to just anyone. Needs to be the right fit. I have to look them in the eye, make sure they’re worthy.”
Fiona practically bounced with excitement. “I know, I totally agree. It’s an amazing car and definitely needs the right buyer.”
“I hear something in your voice, sweetheart. What do you have cooking?”
“You see right through me, Mr. Browning. Actually, I have what just might be the perfect buyer.”
“Do you, now? Not your father.”
She smiled at me again. “No, definitely not my dad. His name’s Evan Bailey, and he’s very talented. An up-and-comer. He’s looking for a really special project, and I can totally vouch for him. What do you think?”
Mr. Browning took a deep breath. “Coming from you, that does mean something.”
“So you’d consider it?”
“I need to look him in the eye, same as anyone. But he can come take a look.”
“Naturally,” she said, her voice bright. “Just promise me one thing, okay?”
“What’s that, sweetheart?”
“Don’t sell it before we get there.”
He was quiet for a moment. “Hmm. How soon can you be here?”
“A couple of days, I think.”
“All right.”
“Thank you, Mr. Browning. I’ll be in touch.”
“Sounds good. Bye, sweetheart.”
Fiona ended the call and triumphantly slid the phone back into a cavernous pocket. “See? It’s the real deal. But we should really get on the road. He said he’d wait, but I don’t think we should take any chances.”
I crossed my arms. “We?”
“Yeah. Obviously I have to come with you.”
I leveled her with a glare, my nostrils flaring. “No.”
She laughed—fucking laughed. “No?”
“That’s what I said.”
“He won’t sell you the car if I’m not there.”
“He said he needs to look his buyer in the eyes. I’m the buyer.”
Her gaze flicked up and down, like she was sizing me up. “Yeah, exactly. I need to be there.”
“You don’t think he’ll sell it to me if you’re not there?”
“I know he won’t sell it to you if I’m not there. Trust me. I’ve known Mr. Browning for years. He’s very eccentric. We’re going to have to play this just right or no one’s getting that car.”
My brow furrowed. “Why are you willing to drive that kind of distance with me? I’m a stranger.”
She put her hands on her hips. “No you’re not.”
“I don’t think seeing me for five minutes yesterday counts.”
“We’ve talked on the phone a bunch of times. You bought a set of fenders for a ’68 Camaro from us last year.”
“How do you remember that?”
“Look, I’m trying not to let it hurt my feelings that you don’t remember me at all. Can we just move on? Besides, I carry pepper spray, and I’m almost positive you won’t murder me.”
“Of course I won’t fucking murder you.”
She smiled. “See?”
God, what the fuck. How was she talking me into this?
It wasn’t her. It was the Pontiac. I could practically hear the throaty roar of its engine. Smell the tang of gasoline in the air. I really wanted that car. I hadn’t even seen it, and I wanted it. As long as there was enough metal left to hold it together, it wouldn’t matter what kind of condition it was in. A restoration like that, done right, would guarantee me a spot in the museum’s permanent collection. Nothing Luke Haven could build could compete.
I’d crush him with this.
“Fine. Let’s go.”
7
Evan
I tossed my duffel bag in the back seat of my Toyota Tacoma extended cab. I had the trailer hitched and ready to go. I’d either be bringing home the biggest build of my life, or a shit ton of regret. But sometimes big wins meant big risks.
Sasquatch, experienced road trip dog that he was, jumped up into the passenger seat.
“Get in the back, big guy,” I said. “We have company.”
“That’s okay; if that’s his seat, I won’t take it.” Fiona carried a backpack and had two houseplants tucked under her arms.
“What are those?”
“Myra and Blanche.”
I blinked at her. “What?”
She smiled. “I know, I named them, it’s so dorky. My dad never let me have pets growing up, and my roommate was allergic. So I have Myra and Blanche.”