He smiles proudly. “You’re welcome. Now, I must get back to my husbandly duties. Laney gave me a honey-do list and if I don’t get it done, she’s not going to be happy with me when she gets home from work.”
I trail him with my eyes as he stands. “Damn, now I’m so sad that I missed out on marriage.”
Fletcher chuckles. “Trust me, the attention she gives me when the list is complete is well-worth the duty.” With a waggle of his eyebrows, he heads for the door, turning back to me before he exits. “Just remember, if you need someone to talk to, you know I’m just a phone call away.”
“Yeah, yeah. Now go home before you get in trouble.”
Laughing, he rises from his chair and lets himself out of my office. I gather the wrappers and empty cups from our lunch, deciding to take them out to the dumpster behind the building instead of letting them stink up my office all afternoon. But when I move to open the door that leads outside, I’m caught off guard by the sound of my father’s voice.
“We had an agreement,” he grates out just loud enough that I know he’s pissed, but he’s clearly also trying to be discreet.
“I know, but how am I supposed to fulfill that when he’s with someone else now?”
Wait. Is that Tori? Why the fuck is she out here alone with my dad?
“Either get creative, or just wait it out. It’s only a matter of time before my son comes to his senses.”
“I don’t know, Henry…”
“You owe me, remember? But the only way that we’re both going to get what we want is if Elliot gets married.”
My pulse is racing as I continue to listen to this conversation through the crack in the door.
Why the fuck would theyneedme to get married?
“Elliot?” Thomas, one of the other attorneys in the practice, calls out to me as he approaches from the other end of the hallway.
I softly let the door close behind me and head toward him, hoping that my dad and Tori didn’t hear him.
“What’s up, Thomas?” I ask as I catch up to him and lead him away from the door. Meanwhile, my mind is spinning, wondering what the hell my father and Tori are up to—and why I didn’t think of this possibility sooner?
***
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 the snippet of the conversation that I caught between my dad and Tori.
I just don’t understand why either of them wouldneedme 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 me 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?”