I push the thought away, back down into the deep, dark recesses of my mind where it’s stayed buried for so long. Sure, it resurfaces in my weakest moments, but I have the power to push it back down, to prevent myself from having to think about it too much. That’s how I get through each day. That’s why I can function so well and focus on my life with Ellis and on being everything he needs me to be.
That’s why I’m just fine.
Yeah, if only I believed that.
I finish inputting the information from the work order for my current appointment into the computer and print the invoice out. Then, on a whim, I decide to call the Chronicle and make sure Megan’s still planning to meet up in about a half hour.
“So, this is where the magic happens, huh?”
I’ve got the phone in my hand, so the sound of her voice startles me, and I know my eyes must be wide when I snap my gaze up to look at her. “Megan. You’re early.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been late for anything in my life,” she says, her gaze still scanning the two-bay garage with interest. “In fact, being on time is just as good as being late in my books, so I’m always early for everything.”
“Always?” I’m too aware of how good she looks in her black dress pants and pale yellow sleeveless top to say anything more. Her dark hair hangs loosely in wet tendrils, dripping darkened spots onto her shirt in front of her shoulders.
“I was even born premature, so you know I’m serious when I say I’m always early,” she grins crookedly.
“My son was, too.” The words fall from my lips without thinking. “Premature, I mean. Maybe he’ll be like you. Early for everything.” I rarely talk about Ellis to people unless others mention him first, so the realization catches me off guard and I clench my jaw tightly in attempt to hide my own surprise.
Megan must notice, though, because I swear I see her eyes narrow slightly, watching me with an intensity like she’s trying to figure me out.
Good luck, I think wryly.
“Harold at the Chronicle told me to take an hour-long lunch break,” she says after clearing her throat. “I
wasn’t expecting more than half an hour, so I decided to come by and see where things were at with my car.”
I lean forward onto the service desk, a makeshift cubicle in the corner of the lobby area of the building. There’s an actual office around the corner, but I still haven’t had a chance to sort through the boxes of stuff that were left from the previous owner. “I was just going to call you. Your car’s fuel pump needs replaced, along with a host of other things. You’re aware that car is pretty much unfit to be on the road, right?”
“You’re supposed to be saying things that make me happy to see you, Craig,” she says, crossing her arms in front of her. “That was quite the contrary.”
Relief floods through me when I see she’s actually showing the ghost of a grin on her lips. Jesus, I’d had myself convinced the woman was going to cry her pretty eyes out when I told her the bad news. “I’ll have to work on that, I guess.”
“I’d say,” she agrees with a smile. She unfolds her arms, sighing. “So, what are we talking here for cost, Mr. Connelly? Is this like a-few-hundred dollars expensive, or like you’re-going-to-live-on-ramen-noodles-until-you’re-thirty expensive?”
I burst out laughing, letting my head fall forward. “Wow, I’m a fan of your descriptions,” I admit, shaking my head in amusement. “That depends. How close were you already to having to live on ramen noodles?”
“Damn.” She sighs again. “That bad, huh?”
I’m not blind, or an idiot. I know from Nancy’s incessant chatter that Megan has fallen on some hard times lately, and there’s no way someone moves here from Dallas with only the stuff they have in their car to live with their aunt and work at the Chronicle unless she’s strapped for cash. The woman needs someone to cut her some slack for once. I know the defeated look in her eyes; I’ve wore it myself.
I stand up, slapping my hands down on the desk. “You know what? Let me worry about your car, okay? We’ll work out a deal later. Something that will work for both of us. Sound good?”
She stares at me as though she’s trying to read me like a book. After a long pause, she says, “I don’t exchange sexual favors for car repairs.”
That hint of a smile tugs at her lips again, making me smirk. “Well, shit, Megan. Now I’m going to have to come up with something else to bargain with.” I come around the desk and go to the window, flipping the sign so that it reads Closed. “Now, if you’re done being a smartass, can I take you on the ridiculously short tour of Cardon Springs?”
“I’m not sure I can handle the anticipation, but lead the way, Craig.”
Chapter Five
Megan
Cardon Springs is much nicer than I remember from when I used to come and visit Aunt Nancy and Uncle Doug as a kid. When I’d initially seen the rain pelting down through the window of the newspaper’s office, I was disappointed, thinking I would have to postpone the tour of this place with my very own personal tour guide.
Then, I decided that, no, I wasn’t going to do that. I’d laid in bed the night before after staying up chatting with Aunt Nancy and I’d actually been looking forward to seeing the sights with Craig.
I didn’t know him, but I didn’t have to. Aunt Nancy did, and she liked him, and I have always trusted her impression of others.