For my part, I didn’t understand why she was so upset. We’d barely spoken in weeks. She couldn’t even be bothered to pick up her phone. So why make a big stink now? Was it because of the naked picture? Or had I hurt her pride by calling things off?
I pulled the phone from my ear and checked the time while she continued her one-sided conniption fit. If this didn’t wrap up soon, I was going to miss lunch. Usually, the good manners drilled into me by my momma and Grandma Oliver demanded that I wait for a pause in conversation, allowing me to end the call as politely as possible.
But standing there, staring at the minutes tick by, I was all out of good manners. I didn’t want to waste another second on this deranged woman.
I hung up.
I turned off my phone—all the way off—and I tucked it in my back pocket. Then I wove through the cluttered garage, heading for my car in the front lot.
“Hey Beau,” Duane called as I passed, catching my attention.
I hadn’t noticed him there. I stopped abruptly, finding my twin poking his head out from under the hood of a Nissan.
“What’s up?” I asked as movement on the other side of the hood caught my attention.
Shelly.
I ground my jaw as our gazes connected and braced myself for the inevitable scattering of wits. It happened, but wasn’t as severe as normal. Maybe I was growing used to her attention since she took her blatant eyeful of me on Sunday. Or maybe my current irritation had made me impervious to Shelly Sullivan’s stare of doom.
“Where’re you going? Are you getting lunch?” Duane wiped his hands on a rag at his pocket.
“Yep. You want anything?”
His eyes skimmed over me, drilling into mine. I could see it was on the tip of his tongue to ask what was wrong. I shook my head subtly, knowing he read the meaning in my stare.
We’ll talk about it later.
“No, thanks.” He waved me off. “Jess is bringing me something. Just let me know when you get back for—uh—coverage. Also, Shelly has her Friday appointment this afternoon and has to leave early.”
That's right, Shelly's Friday appointment. They made Friday afternoons more bearable.
“Fine.” I moved to continue heading toward the parking lot, but an invisible weight held me back, had me stopping again, sighing, and glancing at Shelly. Just because she was rude didn’t give me license to be rude in return.
The woman still watched me, which was no surprise.
“Hey,” I called to her.
“Hi,” she responded immediately, almost too fast, like she’d been waiting for me to speak to her.
“Are you hungry? Do you want me to pick you up anything?”
She hesitated, or maybe she stopped herself from speaking, staring at me for several seconds before finally saying, “No, thank you.”
“Fine.” I nodded once.
That done, I turned from them both and stalked to my car, deciding to drive up the road to Daisy’s.
Hopefully, my sour mood would settle as soon as I had something in my stomach.
* * *
My foul mood did not settle, and this was because—after waiting forty minutes for my order—Naomi Winters accidentally bumped into me outside of Daisy’s Nut House, causing me to drop my lunch all over the gravel lot. In truth, I broke her fall. She’d tripped over a cement parking marker.
I helped the woman right herself and escorted her into the busy restaurant. Once I made sure she was settled, I went out to the lot and cleaned up the mess. Out of time, I drove back to the shop both empty-handed and empty-stomached.
Placing another to-go order wasn’t an option. I knew Duane wouldn’t take his lunch until I returned; it wasn’t his fault I’d had a crappy day. Plus, I was fairly certain Cletus had hidden more protein bars in the file cabinet.
No biggie—I thought, as I endeavored to shrug off the events of the afternoon—I can make do.
And I would have made do, and everything would have been just fine.
Except—as I pulled up—I spotted Shelly Sullivan leaning over the engine I’d been working on before lunch. By the time I parked, I was wading through rage fueled by my earlier nasty confrontation with Darlene, plain-old bad luck, and hunger.
After getting yelled at by Darlene for fifteen minutes and dropping my lunch all over the parking lot, the last thing I wanted to do was talk to Shelly Sullivan. But I didn’t really have a choice.
“What are you doing?” I struggled to keep my tone even.
She glanced over her shoulder, giving me her profile and not meeting my eyes. “The distributor cap is rotating, which is making the pistons lose timing.”
“I know that.”
“I think if you welded a piece here,” she motioned to the engine, “that would keep the distributor from moving.”
Glaring at the woman, I poked my tongue at the inside of my cheek as I tried to quiet my temper. I spoke only when I was certain I wouldn’t raise my voice. “No, thank you.”
“I can engineer the piece for you.”
“No, thank you.”
“I have a welding studio.”
“No. Thank you,” I said through clenched teeth.
Shelly studied me, pressing her lips together and swallowing. At length, I went to move around her, considering the matter closed.
She said to my back, “I can help.”
Without turning and without thinking, I growled in response, “I don’t want your help.”
She persisted stubbornly, grabbing my sleeve and tugging me around. “Stop being idiotic.”
I shook off her hand and shoved my face in hers; she’d picked the wrong day to call me idiotic. “I’d rather be an idiot than a narcissistic pariah!”
At that she recoiled. It was one of the rare times since meeting the woman weeks ago that her expression was something other than aloof. Her eyes flashed with hurt and she winced, shocking the hell out of me. The sight surprised me to such an extent, my temper deflated instantly and a stab of guilt stole my breath, landed like a punch to my ribs.
Acting on instinct, I reached for her.
“Don’t touch me.” She evaded my grip, twisting away as Duane and Cletus jogged over.
“What in tarnation is going on?” Cletus inserted himself between us and pushed against my shoulders to edge me back.
Shelly’s gaze flickered to mine then to the floor, lowering to the cement of the garage. “Nothing.”
“No. Not nothing. Someone is going to tell me what happened,” Cletus wagged an accusing finger at us, “or else.”
I pulled my hand through my hair, biting back a curse and the urge to apologize. I would apologize, just not yet. Not until after I ate something and could guarantee I wouldn’t lose my temper again.
“Or else what?” Duane asked Cletus, his eyes on Shelly. “You going to keep us here all night?”
Cletus’s scowl intensified. Suddenly, he looked as frustrated as I’d felt just seconds ago and he snapped at Duane. “As nice as that sounds, I can’t rightly entertain you all evening, Du-ane. I’ve got something important to tend to at the jam session.”
“Something? Or someone?” Duane smirked, crossing his arms.