“Listen, I appreciate your help and all, but I told you my lights and things come on. If the battery was dead, that wouldn’t happen. I’m pretty sure it’s something more mechanical. I’ll just call triple A and have them send a tow out, you can go back to drowning yourself in oil, and everything will be fine.”
I sigh. “Listen. You’re obviously not from here. So let me explain a few things. First of all, I’m the only tow service for at least sixty miles. Which means if you call roadside assistance, they’re going to call me, and I’ll have to come out anyway. Second of all, the nearest garage besides mine is at least two hundred miles away, which means your tow bill, while nice for my pocket, is not worth it. Plus, I have things I need to do today and I really don’t feel like driving into the city. Third—and this might be the most important—I really would like to get you back on the road just to get rid of you,” I tell him, taking the cables out of his hand. “Now, this is obviously not your area of expertise, but things work according to amps. That means, your radio or lights might work with just a little juice in your battery, but there might not be enough to, say, run your car at the same time, or even start it,” I explain, attaching the cables. “It also means if there’s not a good connection, the output of the battery might not be strong enough. Understand?”
“Listen, I just don’t think you—”
“I liked you better when you didn’t talk,” I mutter, walking around and going to start his vehicle. When it fires right up, I slam the door—hard. He stands there looking at the car like it has Martians surrounding it and is getting ready to take him back to the mother ship. I proceed to take everything back to my truck while he stands there still looking at his car. When I slam his hood (again too hard), he turns around to look at me, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. He looks a little embarrassed, and that makes me feel marginally better. Now if he apologizes for being an ass, I might feel better about the weekend I spent with him. I’ve seen the signs and maybe it’s because I’ve dealt with them over and over, but I really get tired of men who think I don’t understand how to do my job because I’m a woman.
“How much do I owe you?” he asks as he goes to his wallet, no apology in sight.
Okay, then. If that’s how he’s going to play it.
“Hundred bucks.”
“You’re kidding me! You weren’t out here but for ten minutes! That’s highway robbery. With prices like that, I’m surprised you get any business at all,” he grumbles, handing me a hundred dollar bill.
“Oh, what I did here was free.” His mouth goes tight again. Strangely enough, this time I smile.
“If that’s free, then why am I giving you money?”
“Because you were really that annoying. So I charged ten dollars for every minute I had to be around you. I probably should have charged more, but I’m feeling charitable.” I jump up in my truck and leave Gray standing there with his mouth open.
Yeah, I liked him better when his head was buried between my legs.
As I watch Claude drive back to her shop, I can’t shake the feeling that I know her from somewhere. There’s something about her voice … and that face—well, what I could see of it that wasn’t covered with oil. I have the strangest urge to follow her, but I can’t because I have to meet with Riverton.