It's About Time (Blossom Peak #4)(56)

When I shut the door to my truck and look out at Clark Customs & Auto Repair, I’m relieved to find the lights still on inside of the garage. The small windows at the top of the steel bay doors hint that Dilynne’s inside, unlike the darkness I was met with at her house.

The ten-minute drive from Dilynne’s house to her garage only gave me more time to think—not only about what Fletcher implied today, but th e snippet of the conversation that I caught between my dad and Tori.

I just don’t understand why either of them would need me to be married.

If that hadn’t sent me spiraling already, the sight of Dilynne in her garage when I step inside surely would.

Standing with her back to me, she smacks her gum as she stares at a vintage car that is clearly missing parts, like the freaking headlights of all things.

But it’s not just her backside that has me questioning my sanity—it’s her spinning her fucking bra around on her fingers again, with her other hand planted on her hip.

Clearing my throat so I don’t startle her, I wait for her to turn around before I speak. “Already breaking rule number one, I see.”

Her eyes meet mine over her shoulder. “Well, it shouldn’t count because you’re not supposed to be here, which means you’re breaking rule number four and not respecting my time in the shop. And also, bras suck and if I’m here alone, I prefer not to wear one. If you can’t handle that, then you can leave.”

Fighting my laughter, I step further inside the space, shoving my hands in my pockets. “Fine, I’ll let this one slide.”

“Oh, how generous of you.” She rolls her eyes and then goes back to examining the car.

I walk over to her and move my eyes across her face. “You look frustrated.”

“I am. The next thing on my list is putting the seats back in the Porsche, the interior pieces on the door, and testing the windows to make sure they work with the new electric system I put in, but I’m still missing a few things, like the dash gauges I have to drive and pick up next week. But I know if I start that project tonight, it’s going to take m e well past midnight to finish, and I need my beauty rest, you know?”

I shrug. “Sleep clearly isn’t helping with that anyway, so what’s the big deal?”

Dilynne glares at me and then smacks me across the face with her bra.

“Jesus! What the hell, Dilynne?”

“Well, clearly no one ever taught you how you should speak to women. One woman refused to marry you, and if you keep that shit up, this fake fiancée of yours is going to dump your ass too.”

The corner of my mouth tips up. “I was only joking, Dilynne. That’s what we do, right?”

She darts her gaze from mine. “Yeah, well…I’m not really in the mood for that kind of banter tonight, all right?”

That’s when I notice the dark circles under her eyes. “Everything okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“That was hardly believable.” She glares at me again, but I keep talking. “Where do you have to go to pick up the gauges?”

“Georgia.”

“Ah… That’s a long drive.”

“Yeah, but not one I haven’t made before.”

“Need some company?”

She turns to look at me, her brows drawn together tightly. “You’re offering to go with me?”

I shrug, trying to brush off my offer. “I mean, I think it would give us some time to talk about Motorlux and what I can expect when we’re there. If it’s going to be a week-long affair, I’d like to be prepared.”

She turns back to look at the car. “I appreciate the offer, but…”

“Dilynne, it’s just a car ride.”

She inhales deeply and then sighs. “Fine. Yeah, I guess it would give us time to talk.”

“What kind of Porsche is this anyway?” I ask, pointing to the one that’s clearly her project for the show.

“A 1950 Porsche 356. I debated between this and a 1962 Chevy Corvette, but there was something about Betty that spoke to me. Maybe next time I’ll restore a Corvette. It is another one of my dream restorations, after all.”

“I couldn’t tell you the difference between the two.”

She rolls her eyes. “Trust me, I’m aware.”

“You seem to still be irritated.”

“Well, you have that effect on me.”

My smirk appears effortlessly. “You sure it’s just me that’s got you in a mood?”

She sighs again. “Look, it’s not a big deal…”

“Does it have anything to do with the press junket last Saturday?”

She slowly turns to face me. “Did you…watch it?”

Shrugging, I turn back to the car in front of us so she doesn’t read too much into my response. “I did. I mean, that’s what a supportive fiancé would do, right?”

She flings her bra off to the side and then turns to face me head-on, her hands back on her hips. “What’s going on, Elliot?”

“Nothing.”

“Really? Then why are you here?”

“Is it a problem that I’m here?”

“I mean, no but…”

“Well, I did need to confirm that you’re good for dinner with my parents this Friday, and you weren’t answering your phone, so…”