I slowly pressed down on the pedal, causing the engine to roar and the vehicle to shake.
“All right, kill it,” he yelled, poking his head around the hood. Joe pulled his shirt off, wiped his sweaty face, and tossed the shirt in the driveway.
“What’s wrong with it?”
“One more time. Turn it on.”
This time when I turned the key, the engine didn’t flick on. The car sputtered. The starter clicked over and over. “Shit,” I yelled, slamming my hand against the steering wheel.
I joined my brother at the front of the car. He was still elbow-deep under the hood, fiddling with wires and caps. I wasn’t sure what I was looking at.
“The alternator housing’s got a crack in it and the battery’s dead.” He pointed to different parts of the engine. “I could get it fixed in a few days. Gotta order some parts.” Joe scratched his chin. “Probably be around six hundred dollars.” He dropped the hood back into place.
“All right, go ahead and do that. I’ll take care of the cost.” I wiped my sweaty forehead with the back of my arm. Grace probably wasn’t going to feel comfortable with me paying for it, but I needed her to know I cared and that I’d do anything for her.
Joe raised his thick brow. “You’re paying to get her car fixed? You must really like her.”
I kicked at some loose gravel. “Just want her to feel at ease.”
“If you say so,” he said, picking up his toolbox. He walked to the back of his truck, hoisted the toolbox up, and closed the tailgate. “You down for grabbing a beer?”
He and I hadn’t had a beer together in a long time. I think Grace being here made him think we could do brotherly things again, that we could move forward, put the past in the past, as they say. But past was just a word. The memories we carried kept it alive, and memories were just stories we told ourselves. Joe and I had two very different stories. He had forgotten his, but I hadn’t forgotten mine.
“Yeah. That sounds good right about now. I’ll let Grace know we’re taking off.”
Joe shook his head and let out a chuckle. “She’s already got you whipped.”
“No, just being courteous.”
“All right.” Joe made a whip noise as I headed out to find Grace.
She wasn’t lying by the river anymore. I scanned the surrounding area but Grace was nowhere to be seen. I checked the back deck. Not there either. Joe met me on the side of the house.
“Where’d your girl go?”
“She’s not my girl,” I said. It was a lie because it felt like she was my girl.
He patted my shoulder. “I’m just messing with ya.”
Grace came back into sight as we rounded the front of the house. Dressed in a blue jean skirt and a white tank top, her face was serious. My jeans felt a little tighter just looking at her.
I didn’t like the way Joe was looking at Grace, so I gave him a slug in the shoulder.
“What the hell?” He rubbed his arm.
“Stop looking at her like that.”
“Like what?”
“You know,” I said as we walked up to the porch. Grace’s big sky-blue eyes nearly burned a hole through me.
“Is my car fixed?” she asked.
“Not yet.” Joe shifted his stance. “You got a bad alternator and a dead battery. I can get it all fixed in a few days.”
Grace bit at her lower lip and ran her hand down the side of her arm. She looked defeated.
“Don’t worry. My brother here will have it good as new before you leave, I promise,” I said, trying to calm her worries.
She hesitated. Her eyes flicked from us to her lemon of a car. “A few days.” She nodded. “Okay.”
“Want to join us for a beer?” Joe asked. “It’ll take your mind off the fact you’re stranded on this ranch with my bro.” He chuckled.
I groaned and wanted to slug him again but resisted. I wanted Grace to come just so I could spend more time with her. But I also didn’t want her around Joe, which was why I even agreed to grab a beer with him.
“Sure. I’d love to.”
I forced a smile and hoped her tagging along wouldn’t be a mistake.
Joe put his truck in park in front of Rustic Pine Tavern. Grace sat between us but leaned toward me. I wasn’t sure if it was because I made her comfortable or Joe made her uncomfortable. Grace looked ahead at the old saloon. It was the largest bar in town—one of the only ones, actually. They were known for their pool tables, cheap beers, and good music. The tavern attracted everyone, from the old to the young and from the good to the bad.
“This is it?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, shifting out of my seat. I held Grace’s hand as she jumped out of the lifted truck.
“You’re probably used to a swanky bar.” Joe peered over the hood of the truck. “I’m sure they can fix you a cocktail.”
Grace gave him a challenging look, narrowed eyes paired with a tight smile. “Beer’s just fine for me.”
There were a few local farmers smoking outside of the bar and right when they spotted Grace, they fell silent from their mundane conversations. They watched as she walked, and when she saw them staring, she simply gave a little wave with her fingers. That got them going. She really knew how to work people.
“She was waving at me,” one of them said.
“No, it was me,” another one said.
“She’s too young for both of you.”
“Oh, hush. My body may be weak, but my mind is still strong.”
“Hey, Calvin and Joe,” one of them called out with a nod.
“Who’s the girl, Calvin?”
“That’s his Airbnb guest,” Joe said.
“Airbnb?” The old man looked confused.
“Like a hotel at your house,” Joe explained.
“I should start me one of those,” the old man said with a chuckle. “Pretty girls only.”
Their conversation continued as we disappeared inside. Grace was already at the bar ordering three beers when we walked in. It wasn’t too busy yet, just around ten people at the bar and a few playing a game of pool. Nearly all of them noticed Grace—even the women. We didn’t get a lot of visitors out here, so any new person always sparked intrigue. Several patrons bobbed their heads at Joe and me. Many looked surprised to see the two of us in here together. Maxie, the bartender, smiled. She was practically a fixture of Rustic Pine Tavern, which had all the trimmings of a dive bar: slot machines, neon signs, pool tables, dartboards, and old men bellied up to the counter.
Joe picked up his pace and helped Grace with the drinks.
“Here you are, Calvin,” she said, handing one over. “First round’s on me.”
“Thanks.” I tilted the glass back, drinking nearly half of it in one big swig. Nothing better than a freshly poured beer.
Joe stood between us—always in the way. “You two down for a game of 301?”
“What’s 301?” Grace asked.
“Darts. It’s easy. Let me show you.” Joe took her hand and led her toward the dartboard in the back. I didn’t like that. He was being overly friendly with her. Typical.
I followed closely behind and picked up a set of darts from Maxie, the thin woman in her fifties who had been tending the bar since she was old enough to drink. “Glad to see you and Joe here,” she whispered. I nodded but didn’t say anything and made my way to Grace.