by A. K. Evans
“No problem, Avery.”
Knox narrowed his eyes and gave me one last look that was meant to be threatening, but all I could do was chuckle and shake my head.
“What was that all about?” Logan asked.
“Avery’s making some changes to the Vette based on your suggestions and wanted to ask me if I would re-valve the shocks. Knox just happened to walk over when she was expressing her thanks.”
Logan chuckled.
Glancing down at the car I was working on, he wondered, “Are you finished with this?”
I shook my head. “No, but I’m almost done,” I told him.
“It’s Friday, Nash,” Logan said. “Get out of here and go do something fun. This can wait until next week. It’s not like you’re on any time constraints with it for a customer.”
“It’s alright,” I assured him. “I don’t have any plans to go out tonight anyway.”
“Still working on the house?” he asked.
Nodding, I confirmed, “Yeah. It’s coming along slowly. But I’m not doing any work on that tonight either, so that’s why I want to finish your car up. I’m planning to put a whole day in on the house tomorrow.”
“Kendall is off this weekend, but I’m happy to stay a little while longer to help you out with this so you can head out sooner,” he offered.
“It’s cool, Logan,” I insisted. “Go home to your woman. I’m almost done anyway.”
Following a moment of hesitation, he dipped his chin and said, “Okay. Thanks again. I appreciate it. Though, I’m hoping one of these days I’m going to be able to tell you to do the same.”
“Yeah,” I replied, an edge of sarcasm in my tone. “I’m in no hurry to go through any of the same stuff I saw all of you go through over the last year or so. If it’s going to happen, it’s going to happen.”
Throwing his hands up in defense, Logan responded, “I’m just saying, it’s not likely to happen if you’re spending your time here instead of out there looking for her.”
“This coming from the guy who nearly lost the girl of his dreams because he was too busy working,” I returned.
“Fair enough,” he replied. “I guess I’m proof that it can happen when you least expect it. I just want to make sure you’re giving yourself a fair shot.”
After a moment of silence, I said, “I appreciate where you’re coming from, but I’m good, Logan. Honestly. If it’s meant to happen, it will. I’m not going to make myself crazy over it. Though, I guess I’ll say that I’m just hoping I haven’t met her already and didn’t realize it.”
“You would have realized it,” Logan insisted.
I shot him a questioning look. “What?”
“Trust me when I tell you that when you meet that woman, you’re going to know,” he said. “It’s not something I can really explain. It’s just a feeling. At least, it was for me. When Kendall and I met, there was just this unexplainable feeling that we both experienced. I never felt that with anybody else, so I knew there was something about her that was different… special.”
Smiling at him because I was genuinely happy for him, I returned, “See? If that’s the case, I’ve got nothing to worry about. When I meet her, I’ll know that she’s the one. Until then, I’ve got enough to keep me busy.”
At that, Logan gave me another nod and left.
I got back to work.
And just as I told Logan, I really didn’t mind staying late to finish up. We’d gone out as a team testing at the drag strip last weekend. We had Logan’s Camaro, Avery’s Corvette, and a few of our customers’ cars out so we could prepare for the season. As a whole, it was easily considered a successful testing session since we got great data and ran decent passes. There weren’t any major problems that brought anyone’s testing to a halt, so that was always a good thing.
But as well as things had gone, there was still always work to be done. None of us had expected that we’d go and not have anything to change, fix, or adjust.
That was precisely why Avery was planning to change her spring rates. Once any racer got back out on the track and knew there was more power to be had and better times to run, they’d do whatever was necessary to make it happen. That was an example of changing parts.
Also, there were little things that were happening that needed adjustments. Logan’s car required some changes. While his car had done rather well last weekend, it had been pulling a bit to the left. There were a few changes made to the car in the off-season, so it wasn’t unexpected that there would be a need to make some minor tweaks.
As the LT Motorsports chassis tuner, my job was to make sure a car went straight down the drag strip or handled properly on a road course. The list of things I’d do on each car was different depending on the application and power. Still, some of my tasks included corner balancing, performance alignments, adding weight ballasts, and shock and spring adjustments.
My job required a level of patience and precision that was critical to the performance of a car. That said, all the guys I worked with had to have that same level of patience and precision to make sure a car performed at its best.
I liked what I did, and I was good at it.
I always had been.
A little while later, I had finished up my work on Logan’s car and was locking up the shop. It was after dinner, and unfortunately, I wasn’t yet going home.
My home was currently a bit of a mess. Liking to keep my hands busy, I’d started renovating a few months ago, tackling one room at a time. Right now, my laundry room was ripped apart and in shambles. I’d tried holding off as long as I could, but I was now running out of clean clothes to wear. So, I had to run to the laundromat.
On my way there, I started to think about my conversation with Logan. The truth was, I was driving to a laundromat on a Friday night. Logan had gone home to his fiancée, Kendall. Knox and Avery were engaged and went home together. Ryker, our mechanic and the most miserable guy of the bunch—or at least, he had been for many years—had rekindled his relationship with his first and only love. They were getting married in two months. Even Kieran, our engine builder, had recently gotten himself connected to a woman in a very serious way. Things had been rocky between them recently, but it was just last weekend when she showed up at the track to win him back.
That left me as the lone wolf.
It didn’t necessarily bother me. Or it hadn’t.
But I would have been lying if I said that it hadn’t been on my mind a bit more lately. It was just as I’d told Logan. I wasn’t actively searching for someone, believing that when the time was right, it would just happen. As I continued driving, I started to wonder if perhaps my line of thinking was all wrong.
I went with the flow.
I never pushed things to happen. I didn’t get worked up about things. Life was too short to worry about inconsequential stuff. However, I started to think that perhaps finding someone to spend my life with was of far more importance than I had originally thought. I didn’t know if it was because I felt antsier about it or if it had been seeing all of my best friends fall in love and wanting a little bit of that for myself. Either way, there was no denying the fact that finding a lifelong partner was on my mind more than ever.
Pulling into the parking lot, I found a spot at the back of the lot and parked. Five minutes later, I was dumping my clothes into a washing machine when I felt something strange wash over me. It was something I’d never felt, and it threw me a bit off-kilter.
Was someone watching me?
Twisting my neck, I looked behind me. Nobody was standing there. Nobody was watching me.
But then my eyes slid off to the right, and I completely froze. Standing over by the dryers was the most beautiful woman I’d ever laid my eyes on. She was on the shorter side, maybe five feet five inches tall, with a petite build based on what I could see from my vantage point. She had dark blonde hair that landed just below her shoulders in loose beach waves. And she had nearly flawless facial features—a perfect mouth,
a button nose, and brilliant blue eyes. What I found myself most drawn to was the look of complete and utter frustration on her face. Obviously, the fact that she was frustrated wasn’t good, but there was no question she looked absolutely adorable.
Something stirred in my chest. It was such an odd feeling. Not once in my life had I ever felt something so powerful come over me at the sight of a woman. I instantly wondered if this was it. Was this that feeling Logan was talking about? Was she the one?
Realizing the woman was growing more and more irritated as she fought with the dryer, I decided I should go over and offer to help.
As quickly as I could, I closed the door on the washing machine, added the detergent and my coins, and turned it on.
Then I turned around and started walking toward the woman. And on my way there, I had to admit that I wondered if the way I felt approaching her was the same way all my friends felt when they approached the woman with whom they were all now spending their Friday nights.
Yes, I was definitely a fool.
I had no idea why I thought getting the phone call about my car not only being ready for pickup but also that Larry would be there for another hour and a half so I could get it tonight was an indication that I was well on my way to having things turn around for me. Clearly, I had been wrong about that.
Because at the rate things were going for me, there was no way I’d make it to pick up my car on time. Hell, I didn’t even know if I’d make it out of here before it started getting dark.
A little while ago, I had finished my dinner at the pizza shop, returned to the laundromat, and swapped my clothes from the washing machines to two separate dryers. Both dryers had finished, and I started removing my clothes from the first one and folding them up. Everything had been going according to plan. In fact, I started feeling a bit of relief for the first time all week.
But that all changed when I moved to open the second dryer to remove my clothes. The door wouldn’t open. I yanked harder. Nothing.
I sighed.
Looking around the space, I saw a woman who looked to be a little bit younger than me at the opposite end of the laundromat. She was reading a magazine while two toddlers ran around and played nearby. Located about halfway between where she was sitting and where I was standing was a much older man. He had a book in his hands and was engrossed in whatever he was reading, completely oblivious to anything going on around him. The only other person there was a man who had his back to me. He was the closest to me in that he was on the same end of the space as I was, but there was a row of machines separating us.
Belatedly realizing I was distracted and needed to get this dealt with to get my car, I focused my attention on the dryer again. No matter how hard I pulled on the handle, it wouldn’t budge.
I grunted and groaned, thinking that maybe if I sounded like I was putting more effort into it that it would open.
No such luck.
I even went so far as to read the small plaque affixed to the dryer with directions for how to use it, even though I’d been using them since I was nine years old. I knew how they worked. This whole situation had nothing to do with me not understanding how to operate a washer or dryer. It was simply one more obstacle in a laundry list of things meant to send me spiraling out of control and into a frenzy of panic and frustration.
“Come on,” I grumbled as I pulled on the handle again.
Nothing.
My irritation had grown so much that I lashed out and kicked the dryer.
“The worse you treat them, the less they cooperate.”
My body tensed at the masculine voice. Slowly, I turned my head to the left and saw the man who had been standing at the washing machine loading his clothes inside was now only a few feet away from me. He was incredibly handsome, and he was wearing a beautiful smile.
Unfortunately, none of that mattered.
“Excuse me?” I shot back.
Ignoring the scathing look I was giving him, the man grinned at me before he said, “I’m not in the business of washer and dryer maintenance, but I’m relatively certain that kicking them does not fix whatever is wrong.”
Was he serious? Did he think I was an idiot?
“I know that,” I clipped. “But it won’t open. I’m late for an errand I need to run and beyond frustrated.”
“Did you let it finish the cycle?” he asked.
What did that have to do with it?
“Not that it matters, but yes,” I answered. Gesturing toward the pile of neatly-folded clothes, I noted, “I mean, considering I successfully washed and dried this load of laundry, I’m pretty sure I understand how it works.”
Holding his hands up in surrender, he said, “I’m just trying to help. If you want, I’d be happy to take a look at it. The door is probably stuck because the latch is either broken or misaligned.”
My eyes went to the clock on the wall above the washing machines. I had ten minutes left to get to Larry’s so I could get my car.
Before I had the chance to say anything, the man offered, “If you’ve got an errand you need to run, I can try to get it open. I’ve got to wait for my clothes to finish up in the washing machine anyway.”
Wow.
Okay.
I could do this. I’d run out to get my car and hope that by the time I got back, I’d be able to get my clothes.
“Okay,” I agreed. “I appreciate your offer. If you can’t do it, it’s no big deal. I’ll call the maintenance office. I should be back within thirty minutes or so.”
The man dipped his chin and replied, “No problem. Take your time.”
With that, I grabbed my folded pile of clothes and dashed out the door. I didn’t know who that man was, but I was grateful he was willing to try to help.
Fifteen minutes after I left the laundromat, I’d arrived at Larry’s to get my car. I’d cut it really close by arriving five minutes late, but thankfully, he hadn’t closed up the shop. Between needing to swap my things from the loaner he’d given me and needing to pay Larry, I was there for about ten minutes.
I should have expected things wouldn’t go smoothly, but I was doing anything I could to hold out hope that this couldn’t continue forever. And while I didn’t genuinely believe it wouldn’t ever stop, it seemed that today wasn’t going to be that day.
On my return trip to the laundromat, I got stuck in traffic. There was an accident on the opposite side of the highway, which resulted in everyone slowing down on my side to check it out. It wasn’t until it had reached five minutes past the time I was supposed to be back at the laundromat when I finally got beyond the accident, and traffic was moving again. Ten minutes later, I pulled back into the lot at the shopping center.
Getting out of my car, I moved quickly across the lot and through the front door. I didn’t see the man that had offered to help me there any longer. Either he managed to get the dryer door fixed, or he didn’t. Regardless, he had already left.
I walked over to the dryer where my clothes had been and found that it was empty. Thinking I opened the wrong one, I pulled open the door on the dryers on either side of it. Those were also empty.
Convinced I was losing my mind, I looked up and confirmed I was in the right spot.
What the heck was going on?
That’s when it hit me.
The man must have figured out how to get the dryer door open and stolen my clothes. But why would he want to steal my clothes? It made no sense. Unless, of course, he was one of those guys who liked dressing in women’s clothing.
“They’re over on the folding table to your right.”
I spun around to see the man walking back through the door. Then my eyes slid to the folding table, and sure enough, my clothes were sitting there folded neatly.
Something moved through me.
This man not only figured out how to open the dryer door, which was apparently now completely fixed, but he also took my clothes out and folded them for me.
I turned my surprised eyes toward him
, but before I could say anything, he shared, “Sorry I wasn’t here when you got back. After I got the dryer door opened and your clothes out, I moved my laundry to a dryer. Then I repaired the one you broke and folded your clothes. Since I hadn’t had any dinner yet, I ran down to the pizza shop. I saw you running back through the lot when you returned.”
I blinked rapidly, trying to digest everything he’d just communicated.
“You… you folded my clothes?” I asked, my eyes narrowing.
“Yeah.”
“You took my clothes out of the dryer and folded them?” I repeated.
Letting out a chuckle, the man replied, “Already answered that, babe.”
Babe?
He was crazy. Officially crazy.
“How dare you do that?” I scolded him.
A bit of confusion washed over him. “Pardon?”
“Why would you do that?” I asked. I was mortified. This man, this handsome man that I didn’t know, had gone through my laundry. My underwear was in that pile of clothing!
He shrugged and answered, “They were still warm when I got them out. I knew if they sat in there, they’d get all wrinkled. I thought I’d be nice and fold them for you.”
“You had no right to do that!” I shouted.
“Are you serious?” he returned, a look of disgust marring his features.
“Absolutely.”
His head tipped slightly to the side as his eyes narrowed. “So, I not only offer to tamper with a dryer that’s not mine to help you, but I also offer to do it while you run off to do your errand. Then I decide to be nice and fold your clothes for you so that you don’t come back to a wrinkled pile of clothes that need to be heated up again, and you’re giving me a bunch of shit?”
“My undergarments were in there!” I shrieked. “Some strange man I don’t know has riffled through my clothes and not only seen my underwear but also touched them.”
“Wow,” he muttered, taking two steps backward. “I’ll have to remember this next time I try to do something kind for someone. Sorry for trying to be nice. I’ll leave you to your contaminated clothing and your clear misery.”