by Drea Stein
“Do I pass inspection?” he said with a laugh as he handed her a ponytail holder.
She laughed. “You can inspect me any time.”
He grabbed her hand and kissed it. “Stick around some, and I just might.”
Chapter 3 6
Colby walked into the showroom and looked over at Eleanor’s desk. It had rapidly become her domain, and she ruled, mostly benevolently, over it. He saw that the candle he had bought and debated about giving her, just because, held a place of pride on her desk. He wondered what it meant. Eleanor wasn’t sentimental, and they didn’t have what you would call a traditional mother-son relationship. Still, everything around the place was running smoothly, better than smoothly, and he was pretty sure Eleanor had convinced one of his more reluctant clients, the kind that hemmed and hawed and never committed, to actually buy a car.
He’d made no move to find someone to replace her, and she’d asked no more questions about the future, so he figured they could just go on like this for a while.
“There’s someone here to see you,” she said, looking up with a meaningful glance. She’d gotten one of those fancy wireless headsets so she could answer the phone and walk around at the same time. It made her look doubly efficient.
“Thanks,” he said, not sure what she was trying to tell him. He turned, and Colby stiffened, understanding.
He wore his bulk well; Colby had to give him that. He wondered if Officer Sisson was ex-military with the way he stood, hands clasped behind his back.
“Mr. Reynolds,” Officer Sisson’s voice was gravelly, and there wasn’t a gleam of friendliness in his eyes.
“What can I do for you, Officer?” Colby said, swallowing. It had been a long time since he’d been in trouble with the cops. When you were a kid with a fast car and nothing but long country roads, you were bound to be pulled over once or twice. Most of the time it had been ok. He’d been let off with warnings until the time he wasn’t. Still, Colby tried to calm himself and not blame this cop for what the other cop had done. And, truth be told, even that cop, a long time ago, had just been doing his job.
“Just taking a look around. Mighty fine inventory you got here. Is that a ’69 Charger over there?”
“It’s a ’70. One of the first cars I restored.”
Officer Sisson moved over to the car with a fluid motion that belied his bulk.
“Whitewall tires and look at that interior,” Sisson said with a low whistle of appreciation.
“Want to get in?” Colby said and was rewarded with a boyish grin. He had set up the inside of the original part of the garage to be like a showroom, though the cars were rarely for sale. He rotated the display—maybe one of his own cars, or a finished piece just before it went off to its real owner. It wasn’t really about selling cars here. It was more about displaying what he and his team could do with a decrepit piece of metal, leather and plastic.
“Did it really look like this when you got it?” Sisson said, pointing to a small display stand with several pictures showing the original condition of the car.
Colby laughed. “Worse, ‘cause I didn’t think to take any pictures until I was halfway through the restoration. But it was a hell of a job, more so because it was my first. I didn’t really know what I was doing.”
“How long did it take you?” Sisson said as he slid into the door that Colby held open for him.
“About a year, maybe two. Kept running out of money so that slowed it down, but it was worth every minute.”
“Do you ever take it out?” Colby could practically see him trying not to make engine sounds as he moved his hands gently over the wheel.
“When it isn’t raining, sleeting, snowing, too dusty, and the roads are in good shape. You know, not nearly enough.”
“I get you,” Sisson said, and he leaned his head back.
“You know, if you’re interested, I have a lead on a car similar to this one. It needs some work, of course, but I am sure that I could get you a deal on it.”
Officer Sisson laughed, and his tall frame untangled itself from the car. “And here I thought this was a classy kind of place.”
It was Colby’s turn to laugh. “Well, once a used car salesman, always a used car salesman.”
“Is that what you think of yourself?”
Colby cut off his laugh. “I’m sorry, Officer, but why are you here? Is this about Tory’s accident? You know I fixed her car already.”
“Mighty nice of you,” Sisson said, and his voice rumbled in what was either a friendly growl or a low threat.
“I’m sensing a but in there,” Colby said, leaning back against the car, his arms folded crosswise over his chest. All of his natural antipathy toward the police was coming back, and he breathed deeply, trying to bury it down. He had done nothing wrong and, so far, neither had Officer Sisson.
“Ah well, it was all routine, you know—just checking you out, since you were involved in the incident.”
“I was a bystander,” Colby pointed out.
“I just like to be thorough,” Officer Sisson, “seeing as how Tory is practically like family to me.”
Colby waited, his muscles tensed, knowing what was to come.
“Seems like you have a bit of an interesting background.”
Colby sighed. “I had what you would call a misspent youth. But I learned my lesson and straightened up.”
Officer Sisson nodded. “Of course, the file doesn’t say much, but it’s not too hard to read between the lines. Seems like you got caught joyriding. Almost went south for you.”
Colby nodded. “Like I said, I learned my lesson the hard way. A long time ago. I don’t suppose you found out who damaged Tory’s car, through the surveillance tapes?”
Sisson rocked back on his heels. “Sure did. Simple accident. Looks like it was one of the vans Chase Sanders hired to move over all of the company’s stuff. Apparently there was a lot of activity that day. I am sure it will all be resolved fairly easily, seeing as everyone was properly insured.”
“That’s good,” Colby said and waited.
“I don’t suppose it was some soft-hearted cop who set you on the straight and narrow?” Sisson asked after a while.
“What?” Whatever Sisson was after, Colby hadn’t expected that.
“After your joyride. Figured you almost went down for grand theft auto, but looks like someone gave you a pass.”
Colby shrugged. “It was a bit of a misunderstanding, but yeah, I might have had a few people to thank for not going to jail.”
Eleanor had come running to the rescue, Bobby Dean in tow. The cop who had taken him in had been awed enough by Bobby Dean’s celebrity to cut him a break. The rest was old history. Not all of it perfect, but a good deal better than it could have been.
“That’s what I thought. See, I coach a baseball team, a group of … well, I guess you might call them disadvantaged youth. Good kids, but they don’t always get the attention they deserve. But they love playing ball.”
“And?”
“I thought maybe since you’d had such a good experience with law enforcement, you might think about paying it back, so to speak?”
“How’s that?” Colby wondered if he was about to get the shakedown from a cop.
“You know kids—boys, especially—they love cars. Coming up is a big day for the league—couple of tournaments, batting contest, picture day. I thought it would be fun if maybe a few fancy cars showed up and the kids could get a chance to sit in them, look under the hood, so to speak, maybe talk to a guy who knows about fixing them up.”
Colby looked around as if he were expecting Officer Sisson to be speaking to someone else. “You mean me? You want me to go out and be a—?”
“Role model, yeah, you. Look, you can tell stories about the actors you met or the racecar drivers and other celebrities you know.” Officer Sisson gestured in the direction of the poster of Bobby Dean DeWitt.
Colby looked up at the grinning face staring down from the black-and-white
poster. Bobby had signed it for him when he’d been just a kid, before he’d known how their lives would intersect. What he’d told Tory about his family had been the facts, just the bare minimum. The truth had been much darker.
He kept that poster there to remind him of what not to become. Yes, Bobby Dean had stepped in, given him a home, a job and a sense of purpose, but Bobby hadn’t been a good man. Maybe if he’d had a true mentor, it wouldn’t have taken so long for Colby to get his act together and he wouldn’t have done so many stupid things along the way.
Colby found himself nodding, and Officer Sisson clapped him on the back and shook his hand.
“Well then, glad that’s all settled. Just make sure you keep it under the speed limit when you take these fancy cars out. No driving too fast with Tory in the car, you hear? Hate to have to pull you over,” he said as his parting shot.
Eleanor came over and stood by him. He knew she had heard the whole conversation and he steeled himself.
“Well, well sugar, looks like that girl you have your eye on has the whole town looking out for you.”
“So?” He tossed back, recognizing the sullen, defiant teenager he’d been in the tone.
“So you better watch your step,” she said and then the desk phone rang and she touched her hand to ear, the headset on as she answered it.
Chapter 3 7
Tory woke and rolled over. Colby was sleeping in the bed next to her, a sheet twisted around his legs, his chest bare. She touched her hand lightly over his chest, comforted by the warmth and the slow and steady fall of it. She looked over at the clock. Early. She didn’t know what had awoken her, habit, or something more.
She looked up at her ceiling. She would never go back sleep now and decided she had just enough time to sneak out for an early morning run before he woke and they decided on what to do for the day. A run would settle her thoughts.
She slipped out of bed, careful not to wake him. She hadn’t meant to wind up in bed with him every night this week, fully intending to keep their relationship casual, but by the end of each day, one or the other of them would send a text—a “Hi, what’s up?” kind of text—and before she knew it, they were together, with takeout and a bottle of wine. Most often, the food was left out to grow cold, and the wine remained undrunk. She had discovered that his shower was surprisingly roomy and that the little stretch of beach in front of his house was the perfect place to lay down a blanket and pretend to watch the stars.
Last night, they’d met everyone for a drink at Quent’s and wound up in her apartment. She smiled as she pulled on her running clothes. The bed, which Lynn had accused her of underusing, had certainly seen its share of action. She couldn’t complain about that at all. She and Colby were well-suited in that area. And in other areas. He was funny and easy to talk to and she found herself thinking about him much more than she wanted to.
With Stevie it had been different. It had happened slowly, almost by accident. She had moved in when Stevie had complained about his rent being too high. It had seemed like a sensible solution and he’d accepted it easily enough. Maybe she should have known then.
The morning was cool but with a haze that suggested warmer weather was rolling in. She set off at an easy pace, along the boardwalk. A quick loop, she decided, just enough to wake her up, clear her head. She’d been neglecting her training this week and, if she kept that up, would have a hard time at the next half marathon she was planning to run. Still, she couldn’t say it wasn’t worth it. There were other forms of exercise that were just as exciting. She finished her run with a sprint and was walking along the boardwalk to cool down when she saw a familiar figure.
“Mrs. DeWitt, what are you doing here?” Tory pulled up short in surprise.
Eleanor DeWitt, even at this early hour, was wearing a silk dress and stilettos and stood at the boardwalk, looking calmly out at the water. She was watching the early morning activities of the dock as the work boats prepared to chug out for the day and the seagulls swirled and dived, looking for breakfast.
“Why don’t you call me ‘Ellie’, dear, since it seems like the two of us will be seeing each other quite a bit, sugar?” she said as she turned to face Tory.
She tried to slow her breathing down and wished she wasn’t hot and sweaty and in her running gear. Something about Eleanor’s elegance made her feel like she was back in high school, geeky and awkward.
“Nice morning for a run. Saw you head out, and I thought to myself that the boardwalk must be lovely this time of day.”
“Quite a view,” Tory said carefully, not sure what else to say. She remembered that Colby had said Eleanor had been kind to him, that she was a recent widow and he had given her the job as a favor.
“Such a darling town. And the weather … why, back in Tennessee, it’s already hotter than hell’s waiting room. So much cooler up here by the coast.”
“That it is,” Tory said, wondering why she was talking about the weather with this woman.
“Of course when it’s that hot out, we don’t do much except sit on the porch and drink some sweet tea, watching for fireflies. Ever sat on a front porch counting fireflies and drinking sweet tea?”
Tory shook her head, having trouble keeping up with the conversation.
“Colby and I used to spend long nights sitting up, talking, drinking, getting to know one another. Colby and I go way back, you see. Know each other real well. Wouldn’t want to see him get hurt.”
“Hurt?”
Eleanor took a step closer to her. “Colby’s a good man. Loyal, true, steadfast. I’ve seen you around, know where Colby runs off to every night. He’s sweet on you.”
“We’re just….” Tory didn’t quite know what to say, how to classify their relationship.
“Just having fun? Sure, sugar, you say that now. But Colby, well … he’s not built like that. Should have seen him after Kayla left him. Turns out she was just having some fun. Now you seem like a nice girl, not the kind to toy with him. Let him down easy, won’t you?”
“Let him down? Why would I do that?”
“Because, sugar, girls like you don’t go for guys like Colby. Maybe you think it’s fun to hang around with a guy who gets his hands dirty, but when it comes to it, you’re looking for a guy in a polo shirt with a tee time at the country club.”
“I wouldn’t…. I don’t. I’m not a snob,” Tory said evenly.
Eleanor—there was no way Tory was going to call her Ellie—laughed.
“Oh, sugar, we are all. Just remember how Romeo and Juliet ended up.”
And with that she swished away, moving quickly and disappearing into the shadow of the Osprey’s Arms wide porch before Tory even knew it
Chapter 3 8
Colby walked down toward Tory, his hair dark and wet from a shower. He glanced at Eleanor’s retreating back.
“Was that…?”
“Eleanor DeWitt. She seems awfully fond of you. Very protective of your feelings. Said you two used to be real close,” Tory said, knowing her voice was bitter.
“Really.” Colby looked at her, smiled that devastatingly handsome smile and said, “If I’m not mistaken, you sound a little jealous.”
“Jealous? What, of Elvira there?” Tory knew it was mean, and she usually didn’t do mean, but she couldn’t quite help herself. Something about Eleanor put her back up.
“Who’s Kayla?”
The easy going grin disappeared from his face.
“Kayla?”
“Elvira mentioned her.” Tory said.
He came closer to her. “Someone from my past.”
“And.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “After high school, I went to Europe, tried my hand at racing for a while. I got a spot on one of the teams, strictly the “B” squad. But still it was exciting, not just the racing, but the lifestyle. Parties, champagne, models, actresses, wannabes.”
“And Kayla?”
“She was one of those. We hooked up someplace in Italy, made it throu
gh France and then to Monaco. I asked her to marry me, after I’d won my first race and she said yes.”
“You were engaged?”
Colby laughed but she saw that his hands were clenched tightly on the railing overlooking the boardwalk.
“For an instant. That was about the only race I won and by the time we got to Monaco it became pretty clear that I wasn’t going to be the next Bobby Dean DeWitt. Or anything like that.”
A gull flapped his wings against the breeze that pushed the water against the side of the dock. The harbor was waking up.
“And that’s when she left me. Said that we’d grown apart, but she hooked up with someone else pretty quick, a guy who was winning. After his streak ended, I heard she’d latched on to some French guy with a family fortune.”
“What about you?”
“Me.” He turned and looked at her and smiled. “I am a survivor baby. Sure I took it hard, downed a few whiskeys. Realized that I had never really loved her and that I had never really loved her. Got over her.”
He didn’t back down from Tory’s unflinching stare. “Sure it hurt. Didn’t help that about that time I got cut from the team and had to figure out what to do with my life.”
He took her hand. “That’s when I started to get back to fixing cars. Worked at a Ferrari dealership for a while.”
“Don’t tell me you speak Italian too?” Tory huffed out. She pulled her hand away, ran it over her hair and looked out over the harbor, not sure what to think.
“Ciao bella,” he said. “Turns out engines are a universal language. Then I started to hunt for those old cars and fix them up and sell them. Pretty soon the idea for the business was born and I came here. Remember, I told you I med Chase over in Europe. He told me it was a nice town, filled with pretty women and rich guys who like cars.”
Tory wasn’t in the mood for his jokes. “What about Eleanor? Where does she fit into all of this? Did you go running to her after Kayla?”
It took him a moment to get where she was going. “You mean me and Eleanor, like together?”