“Sorry, the whole helping out someone in need is taking a little longer than I expected.” I disconnect the phone from the speaker so our conversation is no longer public.
“Wait, hold on. Are you still dealing with that lady and her broken-down car?”
“Uh, yeah, except that lady is actually a dude.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Her voice is so loud I cringe away from the phone. Based on Lawson’s uncomfortable expression, he also hears her.
“I am, in fact, not fucking kidding you at all. And he’s harmless. He has a manbun and he’s wearing a Hawaiian shirt and flip-flops. Nothing about him screams serial killer. Isn’t that right?” I give Lawson a pointed look. I cannot figure out what the deal is with this guy. I feel like I’ve seen him before. Maybe because he looks like every single surfer dude ever cast in a movie?
He shakes his head. “Definitely not a serial killer, unless you count actual edible cereal. I can kill a box of that for breakfast no problem.”
I roll my eyes. “See, Cosy? He’s perfectly harmless.”
“Why the hell is he still with you?”
“Because his car is fucked and I’m taking him to Bear’s garage to see what the deal is. I couldn’t leave him there.” I don’t have much hope for Lawson’s ride. It’s pretty, but I have a feeling it needs some serious love before it’s back on the road.
“You know some guy named Bear in Utah?” Cosy sounds appalled.
“Barry Fisher, from high school. Had a full beard by the time he hit junior year. Played football. You remember him?”
“Oh! Yeah. What’s he doing in Utah?”
“Running a garage.”
“Obviously.” I can practically hear her eye roll. “Still, having some random guy you don’t know in your car is grounds for me to freak out. I vote you stay on the phone with me until you reach the garage. Do you even know his name?”
“It’s Lawson. Even his name sounds harmless.” I wink at my passenger.
“Do you happen to have a last name to go with the first name?” Cosy asks.
“My sister would like to know what your last name is.” I hold the phone in his direction.
He leans closer so he can speak directly into it like a mic. “Whitfield. Lawson Whitfield.”
“Thanks. Did you catch that?” I ask my sister.
“Lawson Whitfield?” Cosy is back to high-pitch shrieking.
“I believe so, yes.”
“Ask him if he has any brothers or sisters.”
“Do you want to ask him yourself?”
“Just do it.” Cosy can be bossy and overprotective for a little sister.
“Lawson, do you have any siblings?”
“Yeah, two, a sister and a brother.” I bet he regrets buying that car for more reasons than it just breaking down.
“Ask him if his sister’s name is Amalie.”
“You mean Sexy Lexy’s wife?” Amalie, otherwise known as Amie, pronounced Ah-me, is married to Griffin’s brother Lexington, aka Lex, or Sexy Lexy as we like to call him. Cosy’s husband is a big dude, but his younger brother looks like some kind of sexy Spartan warrior. All of the Mills brothers are mountains of hot men, actually. Unfortunately, they’re all taken.
“Just ask him!” Cosy demands.
“Is your sister’s name Amalie?”
“Uh, yeah. How would you know that?” His fingers inch along the armrest, as if he’s prepared to do a tuck and roll out of the car.
“My sister, Cosy, is married to Griffin Mills, Lex’s older brother,” I tell him. “I think that makes your sister and my sister sisters-in-law?” It’s more of a question than an actual statement, because I’m mentally trying to figure out if this is true, and how wild it is that I managed to find him in the middle of a freaking desert.
Lawson’s eyes flare. “No shit. I thought you looked familiar!”
“Same. We must’ve been at the same event at some point in the past couple of years.” It explains why it felt like I knew him. It also makes me feel a little better about having some not-so-random hot dude in my car.
I end the call with my sister, who is no longer worried about me ending up dismembered, since apparently Lawson and I know each other, however indirectly.
“How crazy is this! I can’t believe our sisters are in-laws.”
“Me neither, to be honest. I mean, what are the chances?” Lawson rubs his scruffy chin.
“Slim to freaking none, I would think.”
We pull into the garage and I’m greeted with enthusiasm and a bone-crushing hug from Bear, who I haven’t seen in more than a year. I introduce him to Lawson, and explain that we actually know each other, which seems to put Kenny at ease. Sort of. He’s still mumbling about the pretty boy and how I love picking up strays. He’s not wrong about Lawson being pretty.
Bear and Kenny get the car up on one of the lifts and it takes about thirty seconds to come to the conclusion that as nice as the car looks, it’s not drivable. Turns out, I was right about the oil leak and the radiator.