Every Yesterday (Boot Creek) (7 page)

“I’ve never felt the urge to move somewhere else, but then I pick up and go where I want to go whenever. So I’ve never felt stuck by living here. But it’s nice when you know everyone in town. It’s comfortable.”

He listened intently. Never interrupting her as she spoke. Like he was really listening. Which seemed kind of odd.

“I hadn’t thought of it that way. Makes sense.”

“If I’d never been able to travel. I might feel very different. You live in California now. Big state. What part?”

“
Near Los Angeles.
”

“Busy.”

“Good for business. I don’t live in the city, though.”

“On the beach?” That would explain the tan.

“Yes. Great view, but the lots are so small I have to keep my cars in a separate garage near my business. My garage is bigger than most of the lots on the beach.”

“How big is your garage?”

Was that some kind of metaphor?
Noah pressed his lips together. “I own fourteen cars. But I have space for twenty.”

“Four—” Megan put down her wineglass. “Fourteen? I have one car taking up a third of my whole house right now. I can’t imagine that times fourteen. That’s a car lot. And in California? That had to cost a fortune.”

“In some towns, I guess fourteen cars could be a car lot.” Her animated reaction made him smile. “So I love cars. There’s worse things. And I guess most people have one car, but it’s my business too.”

“Well, technically I have two,” Megan said. “The one I drive, and then the one that is now unexpectedly taking up residency in my house. But then I didn’t seek that one out.”

“How’s that? Is there a car Santa I’ve been missing out on? Because I’d make the nice list for sure.”

“No. My daddy recently passed away. He didn’t leave me any of his money, but he did leave me his favorite car. To his young wife’
s chagrin.
”

“I can understand that.”

“The young wife part, or the car?”

“The car. Definitely not the wife . . . young or otherwise. That he left you the car says a lot more than money about his love for you.” That was the kind of man he understood.

“It’s a 1958 DeSoto Adventurer and that thing takes up a lot of space. Even in my house. And I’m fairly certain I have one of the bigger garages around since my house used to be a gas station.”

But he already knew that. And he knew exactly how much space that car took up. “Nearly two hundred twenty-one inches bumper-to-bumper you’ve got there.” Had he just said that out loud?

“Impressive when you put it that way.”

“Oh, there’s a lot more than that impressive about that car.”

“I’m surprised you’ve ever even heard of it.”

“It’s my business.” He pulled his wallet out of his hip pocket and slid a card across the table. “I opened California Dreaming Restoration in a two bay garage. Now I have over twenty-five thousand square feet. We cater to the richest car enthusiasts in the world.”

“Impressive.” She ran her finger across the raised print on the card.

“I like the way your eyes dance when you talk about that car.” Why was he wondering what her fingers would feel like against his skin? “Do you have any idea what you’ve got on your hands?”

“Absolutely.” She raised her chin.

“1958?” Of course, he already knew that from Jackson. An I’d-like-to-thank-the-Academy speech bounced through his mind. She had no idea that she was going to want to sell him this car. But she would. They always did.

“Convertible.”

His heart shifted into overdrive. His pulse cranking up to about 140, matching the top speed of that year and model. “Who’d believe a car like that would end up in a small town like this?”

“Believe it, sugar.” She took a long sip of her wine. “My best memories with my dad were with that car. He loved that more than anything, except for me.”

Warning flares signaled in Noah’s mind.
A daddy’s girl, and her daddy’s car. This may not be as easy as I’d hoped.
“No way he’d have left that car to you otherwise. He loved you very much.”

“Thank you.” She lowered her eyes, then twisted the business card in her hand again.

He hoped she wasn’t going to cry, because one thing he didn’t do well was women and tears. “I’d love to see your car. Is it in good shape?”

She looked up. Those dark clouds lifting. “Pristine. Never seen a raindrop.”

“As it should be.” Her lips were full and pink. Probably from the wine. It wasn’t going to be hard to spend his time with her this week. “You’ve got to take me over to see it.”

“
Sure,
” she said.

Noah’s foot danced under the table.

Angie came over to their table. “Sorry to interrupt, but Megan, I need you to come with me. We’re going to get more wedding party pictures taken for the album.”

“Okay.” Megan shimmied across the vinyl seat and stood next to the table. “We’ll get together this week,” she said to Noah.

He nodded. Man,
this
close to actually seeing the car. He sat there for a minute, but all he could think of was that car. Sitting there moping about it wasn’t going to get him any closer to that deal. He got up and walked over to where Jackson and Ford were talking.

“That’d be great if you don’t mind,” Ford was saying. “I’m seriously a zombie right now.”

“I’ll take you back over to the inn. The girls are taking pictures. They’ll be awhile.”

“Can I catch a ride too?” Noah asked.

“Sure. Come on,” Jackson said.

The three of them went out the front door and got into Jackson’s truck.

As soon as Jackson got behind the wheel, Noah lunged forward between Jackson and Ford. “It really is a 1958 DeSoto Adventurer. I asked her.”

“I told you it was,” Jackson said. “You think I don’t know what kind of car we’re driving away in on our wedding day?”

“I’d almost convinced myself that I was going to have to give up the idea of getting my hands on one. You don’t understand, man. This is a big deal to me.”

Jackson straightened. “I don’t think you’ll get your hands on this one either.”

“You never know. I’m a great negotiator. Come on. I’ve got to see it.”

“You’ll see it Saturday, because I’ll be driving it.”

“Let me drive y’all, man.”

“No. I promised Mr. Howard I would be the only one to drive it, and we even discussed the route in detail. He was very particular about that car.”

“Yeah, but Megan owns it now, right? I can get her to let me drive it.”

“No. Don’t screw this up.”

“Drive me by her place. She really lives in a gas station?”

Jackson drove up the block and turned left. “Sure does.”

“What the heck? I mean who does that?”

“Don’t knock it. It’s a cool place. She runs her business out of it too. Not a storefront, but a workshop for her candle company. Most all of that is online sales. She’s doing really well for herself too. We have to make it quick. She lives here on this next corner.”

“Is that her car?” Noah asked.

“Yeah. I’m sure she walked over. Most people walk where they can around here.”

Jackson pulled under the awning past Megan’s little orange Karmann Ghia.

“Elegant. Fast. Expensive.”

“What?”

Noah hadn’t even realized he’d uttered the catch phrase, but it applied. He could see Megan as being all of those. Elegant. Fast and expensive. “The Karmann Ghia. That’s how that car was described back in the day. Cute cars.”

“You can see the DeSoto through those windows,” Jackson said.

Noah bailed out of the truck and ran to the window. Sure enough. Original black and gold. And it looked in excellent condition. He was dying to get in there and touch it, examine it, really see what was under the hood. He hadn’t been this excited since he got to second base with Jenny Lou Sable in the sixth grade.

He turned and jogged back over to the truck. The passenger window was down, so he leaned inside. “I’ve got to have that car.”

“Right.”

“I’m serious. I don’t even care what it costs.”

“She’ll never sell it. It was her father’s and he passed away recently.”

“I’m charming. I’ll get it.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“What makes you so darn sure. Everyone has a price.”

“You don’t know Megan.”

“I’m going to have that car. I’ll put money on it that I’ll have that car.”

Ford put his hand up between the two guys. “Now, y’all slow down. You know how your bets always get out of hand.”

“No. Not this time. I’ll take that bet, Noah. Because you really are California dreaming if you think she’s gonna sell. Hundred bucks.”

“I bet she’ll sell and I bet she’ll do it by Sunday morning. Make it a thousand.”

“You’re a lunatic, Noah. Seriously. You’re going to put a thousand dollars on the table that you’ll get that car from her this week?”

“Yeah. Here’s how sure I am.” He took his phone out and dialed California.

“Who are you calling? It’s like ten o’clock.”

“Hey, Sonya. How’re things going? Great. I just found the ’58 DeSoto Adventurer. Nope. Not kidding. Set up a cross-country hauler. For next Sunday. Yep. Here’s the address.”

“You’re not serious. You don’t have anyone on the phone.”

“Only seven o’clock on the West Coast. I do too. Here.” He shoved his phone inside the cab of Jackson’s truck and pressed speaker. “He doesn’t believe I’m ordering transport before I have a deal on this car, Sonya.”

“Hello?” Jackson looked skeptical.

“Hi. Who is this?”

“Jackson. Who is this?”

“Sonya at California Dreaming Restoration.”

“You really work for Noah?”

“Sure do. And trust me, if he’s found a 1958 DeSoto Adventurer that he likes . . . he’ll get it. This is not the first time he’s had me do this. Got that address for me?”

Jackson gave him a what-the-heck look. “The address is 12665 Water Loop Way.”

Sonya’s soft voice livened a bit. “That’s gonna cost you, boss. About as far coast to coast as you could possibly get, huh?”

“It’s worth it. Set it up.” Noah hung up the phone and laughed. “This is great. Even worth sacrificing a brother of the bachelorhood to the old ball and chain of matrimony.” He slapped the side of the truck.

“Go ahead. Talk your big game. You just get your money right. I’m going to do something extra special for Angie with your thousand bucks, so you better be ready to pay up. On Sunday. No IOUs.”

“I’m ready, but I won’t have to pay. Come on, let’s get the hell out of here before she shows up.”

Noah hopped into the backseat. Jackson pressed the gas pedal before Noah even had the door closed, which was probably a good thing, because if he’d had the chance he’d have walked back over and taken one more look. His heart raced. He’d been afraid to let himself even believe it could be true. The last one he’d found had been one long plane ride from California to Boston, and then a three-hour car ride, only to find that the car had been ridden hard and wrecked a few times. Poor thing was cockeyed on its frame, kind of crabbing along the road. What a disappointment that had been, but that one sitting in the old gas station bay sure looked like the real deal.

Granddad. I found the one, man. And she’s not getting away.

Chapter Six

Noah sat at the kitchen table, sipping milk from a coffee cup. Unable to sleep, he’d come downstairs and made himself at home in the kitchen. He’d planned to rummage around to find some cookies, but Flynn was organized to a fault.

Everything that didn’t move seemed to be labeled, right down to the pantry shelves. Her pantry looked like a grocery store. He’d had an inkling that if he looked hard enough, he’d find a cash register and he could probably swipe his debit card and make a purchase. But since he hadn’t found one, he helped himself to an assortment of cookies. A couple from each of the boxes on the
C
section of the pantry. Right between the cake flour and crackers. Didn’t seem logical to him. But alphabetical was about as good as any order once you got used to it.

He dipped an oatmeal chocolate chip cookie into his mug. How was he supposed to sleep knowing the car of his dreams was right here practically under his nose? Dying to see it up close, and hear it run, he was going to have to figure out a way to connect with Megan . . . and quick.

A noise came from the front of the house.

He stopped chewing, straining to listen.

Another rattle. At the front door, and not like someone coming home with a key, besides he was pretty sure everyone was here and accounted for because the lights in Flynn’s part of the house had been dark when they got home.

He sat up straight, stretching to listen closer. There it was again. He sprang to his feet. Maybe crime was alive and well, even in this small town. It only took about six long-legged steps for him to get to the front door. Surprise would be on his side.

He waited off to the side as the handle jiggled once again.

Someone lunged their shoulder into the door, and it flew open. Something fell to the ground.

Noah didn’t wait to see what it was. He spun and looped his strong forearm around the shoulder of the intruder, pulling them tight against his chest with his bicep around their neck.

Then something heavy landed right between his shoulder blades, knocking the breath out of him.

More than one? He didn’t let go of the intruder, although he was off balance.

The lights came on and the shrill sound of a woman’s voice thrummed through his mind. “
Stop! No!
”

“Damn.” Noah rocked forward, loosening his grip. But when his eyes focused on the person who he had in the choke hold, and then up into Megan’s wide-eyed expression, he knew that the element of surprise had worked. Only now he was the one surprised. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

Flynn wriggled free from the choke hold. “What were you doing?” Flynn pushed his arm down and stepped away from him. “You scared the pure living daylights out of me.”

“Out of us,” Megan echoed, her purse dangling from its straps in her white-knuckled death grip.

“I thought you were an intruder.”

“It’s Boot Creek. Not Los Angeles.”

“It’s the middle of the night. And for the record, we don’t have intruders where I live either, but it can happen anywhere.”

“It’s an old house. The door sticks. Jeez.” Flynn rubbed her chest, which was tinged pink. “What are you even doing awake?”

He straightened, stretching the dull ache down the middle of his back.

“I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?” Megan asked.

A shadow of alarm touched her face. He leaned forward, with his hands on his knees. “Knocked the breath out of me.” He blew out a few breaths and then stood back up. “I won’t need to worry about your safety. That was a hell of a punch, but I’m fine.”

She lifted her purse in the air, and shrugged. “I have this bad habit of collecting way too many coins in the bottom of my purse. It’s heavy.”

“I can vouch for that.” He blew out another breath and stretched his back. “I’m pretty handy, Flynn. Why don’t you let me take a look at the door while I’m here this week? To make up for the choke hold.”

“That would be helpful. Thanks,” Flynn said looking him up and down.

Noah suddenly felt very underdressed in a pair of shorts. They’d been drinking. He knew that glassy-eyed look girls got at closing time. But then again, closing time would have been an hour ago. “You girls been out on the town? It’s, like, three in the morning.”

“We know that. What are you doing up?”

“Couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d have a snack when I heard someone coming in. I thought you were asleep.”

“You have that much crime in California that you automatically attack when you hear a noise?”

Okay, he asked for that. He may have overreacted to the situation. “No. Not really.”

Megan burst into a fit of giggles. “Can you imagine if he’d actually knocked you out, Flynn? That would have been the biggest news the
Boot Creek Bugle
ever covered.” She turned to Noah. “I bet you’d have made the front page.”

“Which would have sucked because I’d have upstaged the bride. I’m sure that’s the headline this week.”

He pointed toward the kitchen. “I think I’ll go back and finish my snack.”
That was embarrassing. Thank goodness Ford hadn’t woken up. He’d never hear the end of it.

Flynn and Megan walked into a room off the back of the B&B. He heard the door click closed behind them but could still hear them talking. He shoved the cookie in his mouth, then washed out the mug and put it in the dishwasher.

What’ll you do for an encore, idiot?

He walked to the front door, grabbing one of the house keys off of the bureau next to it. The last thing he needed tonight was for Flynn to lock him out by accident. He didn’t have any idea if Megan was coming back out or not, and he wasn’t about to go knocking on Flynn’s room door to find out.

Get some air. Maybe they’re so drunk they won’t even remember.

He was more awake now than he’d been when he first came downstairs. Not too bad a thing, though. Maybe this would be enough of a body clock interruption to get him on East Coast time.

Outside, the night sky was dark. No interruptions from big city lights or the glow from neighboring towns. Just a dark, inky night sky and stars. A bird chirped out a warning from a nearby tree. Or maybe it was a hello. Frogs sounded like out-of-tune banjos twanging back and forth.

He hadn’t heard these night sounds since he’d been back in Franklin, Tennessee, growing up. He’d spent as many nights as he could sleeping out in the tree fort he and his dad had built together. Even long after a tree fort should have been cool, into his teens, he’d taken refuge in that thing. He could have just as easily ended up like that tree house guy on the cable network, building swanky adult tree houses, had he followed the love for building that his dad had had rather than the love for cars that he and his granddad had shared.

A trio of chairs nestled up to a small round wicker glass-topped table on the far end of the porch. He plopped down in one of the oversized chairs and propped his feet up on the porch rail. It was one of those no temperature nights. Not too hot. Not too cool. Just enough breeze to keep the air moving.

He stared into the sky.

Being a Scorpio, he still remembered how to find that constellation from his days in the planetarium back in grade school. The stars and planets had always fascinated him. Maybe that’s why fast cars interested him. Kind of like rocket ships, only on Earth where he had control.

The bright star Antares was easy to spot; he followed that to the outline of the scorpion. He wished on Antares as he often had as a kid. Of course, he couldn’t remember if he’d ever had any of those wishes come true. But one more wish to get that car deal sealed soon or later couldn’t hurt.

Then again, he was pretty sure he didn’t need any help. He’d made those kinds of deals hundreds of times. This was in the bag.

Wishing on stars was a kid’s game.

Megan walked out of the front door, pulling it closed quietly behind her.

“Hey,” Noah said.

“What?” She turned and stomped her foot. “Do you have a goal of scaring a certain number of people each day?”

His smirk irked her. “What? You don’t do anything without a goal?”

“Maybe. And what’s so wrong with that?”

He shrugged. “Might miss something if you don’t take the time to be spontaneous once in a while.”

“I’ll take my chances, thank you. Why are you always popping up out of nowhere? What are you doing out here?”

“Sitting. Enjoying the quiet. I couldn’t sleep.”

“Now I probably won’t sleep—thanks for the middle of the night adrenaline shot.” She started down the porch, and then turned to walk up the block.

Noah got to his feet and jogged out barefooted to catch up with her.

“You walked?”

“I didn’t fly.”

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“It’s not that far.”

“I could walk you.”

She turned and pulled her hands on her hips. “Oh, really. And then who is going to walk you back to be sure you don’t get lost? You go back to the inn. I know my way home, thank you very much.”

“I was just trying to be nice.”

“Well, don’t. I kind of prefer to take care of myself.”

He raised his hands in the air. “Got it. Loud and clear.” And he liked her more and more. She was feisty. And she had his car. He wouldn’t let her get far for long.

“Thank you.” She flipped her long hair over her shoulder and walked away, her long beach curls bouncing with each step.

Noah reluctantly let her be. Taking slow steps backward in the direction he’d come. He didn’t turn his back on her. She was too good a sight to waste.

Noah could barely drag himself out of bed the next morning. Even the smell of bacon and Ford giving him a hard time for missing the home-cooked meal wasn’t enough to help him shake the cobwebs.

That last gander at Megan walking down the street last night had been just as mind-consuming as the possibility of the car of his dreams being within arm’s reach.

But he’d stalled as long as he could. They’d all come in town early to help Jackson get ready for the wedding. Getting his bachelor pad ready for his ready-made family, that is. Jackson had decided early on that he could use their collaborative brute force to make easier work of getting his stuff moved around, and then Angie’s things packed up and moved in. But a few weeks ago that had become the secondary priority.

Jackson had challenged them to help turn a guest room into the best boy’s room they could dream up for his stepson. Noah had had a race-car bed when they were kids, and Jackson had coveted that thing. Heck, all his friends had wished for one just like it. The bed Dad had built had been made out of MDF, and that wood-wanna-be weighed a ton, but Noah was going to do one better—and it was going to blow little Billy away.

He got out of bed and rounded up Ford to head over to Jackson’s house.

And when they rolled up into the driveway, Jackson was standing in the middle, staring at the huge crate that had been dropped off.

“When you said delivery, I thought you meant like a box from UPS,” Jackson said. “What the heck?”

They guys piled out of the rental car.

“This thing was delivered by a big rig with a Tommy lift. I don’t think we’re moving it.” Jackson leaned his whole weight into the crate. It didn’t budge.

Noah clapped his hands together, rubbing them together in excitement. “It’s fine right where it is. The stuff inside is smaller.”

“What exactly did you ship here? You’re not human trafficking, are you? You could send a whole crew of workers in this thing. Hello, anyone in there?”

Noah walked over to Jackson’s truck and helped himself. “You said you wanted to build some kind of car-themed bed for Billy. I told you I’d send some stuff.” He pushed tools and boxes of screws from side to side. “Don’t you have a hammer or a crowbar in here?”

Jackson walked over, and without so much as a glance, reached in and pulled out a hammer.

“Thanks.” Noah went to work on the wooden crate. “Billy’s bed is going to rock. This is going to be the room I’d have for my kid . . . if I were going to have any. Which I’
m not.
”

Jackson said, “You could practically fit a whole Smart Car in that box.”

“That wouldn’t be saying much. And that would not be the car bed of a boy’s dreams either.”