Page 12

Shaking her head, Mica let out a low whistle. “Damn,” she said. “That’s rough.”

Staring into her coffee cup, Jo sighed. “Yeah.”

Tilting her head, Mica studied her for a long moment. “And you’re actually really upset about it.”

Jo hesitated, then let her shoulder slump. “Yeah,” she said. “I am.”

“Well, hell,” Mica said. “I didn’t think I’d live to see the day.”

Picking up a rag and rubbing it over her hands, Jo gave her a glare. “Can you not?” she said, and Mica held up her hands in mock surrender.

“I’m only saying,” she said. “I’ve never seen you like this over a girl before.”

Staring at the half-assembled carburetor on the workbench, Jo exhaled, but before she could answer, the shop’s front door opening caught her attention. “Ah, there’s my favorite troublemaker,” a familiar voice called out. Jo turned as a man with black hair mixed with gray walked in, his old fleece jacket zipped up against the morning chill.

Grateful for the distraction, Jo smiled. “Morning, Mr. Diaz.”

Mica hopped off the counter. “Hey, Mr. D,” she said. “Out for your usual morning walk around the ol’ neighborhood?”

“Of course,” Mr. Diaz said. “Figured I’d stop by and check in on my old shop. Make sure you haven’t run it into the ground yet.”

Used to the playful banter with the man who taught Jo everything she knew about cars, she laughed. “As you can see,” she said. “It’s still standing.”

“I never had any doubt,” Mr. Diaz teased, his sharp eyes scanning the garage before settling back on Jo. “Though you look like you could use a few extra hours of sleep. Late night?”

Mica chuckled. “Oh, you have no idea.”

Jo groaned, shooting her a warning look. “Mica—”

“She got left in the dust, Mr. D,” Mica announced, clearly ignoring Jo completely. “Woman of the hour called an Uber and bailed.”

Mr. Diaz raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Well, I think that’s a first,” he said, and Jo sighed, rubbing a hand over her face.

“Great,” she said. “Glad my humiliation is so entertaining for everyone.”

“Ah, Jo, it was bound to happen eventually,” he said with a chuckle. He patted Jo’s shoulder before making his way overto the workbench, inspecting the disassembled carburetor. “So, what’s the story?”

Jo hesitated, but Mr. Diaz had been a mentor to her for years. He was one of the few people who actually knew her beyond the surface-level charm. “Met someone last night,” she admitted with a sigh. “A woman named Evelyn.” Mr. Diaz nodded, listening. “She’s different. Smart. Beautiful. A little awkward, but in a cute way.” Her voice trailed off, not sure she wanted to continue.

“So far, I don’t see the problem,” Mr. Diaz said, picking up a piece of the carburetor to look at it more closely. “What’s the rest of the story?”

“We hit it off,” Jo closed her eyes and thought back on the night. “Went for a ride on my bike and eventually back to my place. I thought everything was going great, and then, I don’t know. She just left before anything could really happen.”

Mr. Diaz hummed. “And how did you feel about that?” he asked, setting down the engine part.

Jo frowned. “I dunno. Confused? I mean, I’ve had women say no before, but this felt different.”

Mica snorted. “Translation. Jo actually cares this time.”

“I care about people, Mica,” Jo said with a glare.

“Not like this.”

Jo shook her head but didn’t argue.Because honestly?she thought,Mica isn’t wrong.

His eyes gentle, Mr. Diaz studied her for a moment before nodding. “Sounds to me like she got scared,” he said. “Maybe she panicked.”

Jo sighed. “Yeah. But why?”