Every Yesterday (Boot Creek)

by Nancy Naigle

  “Hell, no. The day I start pretending to know what’s on a woman’s mind, you may as well send me to the crazy house.” He waved a finger back in forth in the direction of her head. “No telling what the heck is going on up in there.”

  She laughed. A real hearty laugh that ended in a little snort. “Sorry. I do that sometimes.”

  “It’s kind of cute.”

  “That’s twice you’ve called me cute. Stop that.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And all that ma’am stuff. What is that all about? We’re the same age.”

  “I was brought up by a good old Tennessee gal who believed that ‘yes and no, ma’am,’ was the proper way to show respect, and I guess it just stuck.”

  “I was brought up that way too. But I’m not going to call you sir.”

  “Fair enough. I’m the best man. You’re the maid of honor.” He looked around at the empty lot around them. “You and I seem to be in the minority—those without dates. Think we could call some kind of truce and pal around this week—no strings, no expectations?”

  “You serious?”

  “Yeah. I like your sass. I damn sure don’t want to have to dodge that ticking time bomb of a baby maker—”

  “Flynn?”

  “Oh yeah. That would be the one.”

  She couldn’t blame him. Flynn would dog him all week. “Well, we do seem to be on the same page here.”

  “Yeah, and it seems the guys I thought were on my team are defecting.”

  “You’re going to have to be a better quarterback then.”

  “I’ll take that under advisement.” He extended his hand. “My new partner in crime?”

  “For the week.” She shook his hand. A nice firm grip.

  “Think we should go back in?”

  She slumped forward. “In a minute?”

  “You twisted my arm.”

  “Oh, we are going to get along fine,” she said.

  “Jackson said you make candles for a living.”

  “I do. Aromatherapy candles. All natural. I make them from beeswax that I get from a local beekeeper.”

  “So you hand pour them. Like one by one?”

  “Just like that.”

  “That has to take a long time.”

  “I’ve got a pretty good system. I never intended for it to become huge. I’m very happy with the size of the business.”

  “How do you come up with the smells?”

  “Aromas. Smell is what you do to test a carton of milk when the date has passed.”

  “Yeah, that’s not good.”

  “Never is. Why is it we always want other people to smell stinky stuff? I think guys started that.”

  “We probably did.” He stood up. “Come on. Let’s go back in. I’ll buy you a free drink to seal our deal.”

  “Okay.” She followed him back into Blue Skies Café. The crowd had thinned out some. There was even a booth empty toward the front.

  He went straight to the bar and got a beer. “You still drinking wine?”

  She nodded.

  “Wine for the lady.”

  “I’ll grab that table,” she said as he waited for the bartender to pour the wine. She slid into the booth. When she looked up, he was walking toward her. She wondered where he’d sit. Next to her or across from her.

  Like a proper gentleman he gave her space, sitting across from her in the booth.

  He handed her the wineglass, then held his beer in front of her. “To a week of no-bs fun and helping our friends start their new life together on the right foot.”

  She tipped her glass toward his bottle. A smile played on her lips, and suddenly he didn’t seem nearly as bad as she’d made him out to be in her mind earlier. He was playful and fun. No problem.

  “Jackson drove us around Boot Creek. It’s not a very big town, so I guess it’s safe to say you live nearby.”

  “That would be a good bet. Within walking distance.” Great, now he’d think she was inviting him over. Not her intention at all.

  “Lived here all of your life?”

  “Yep.”

  “I grew up in a small town outside of Nashville. I spent most of my youth wishing for a bigger place to live.”

  “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, sippi
ng 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—”