Page 47

“Don’t change the subject. Why are you here?” I reiterate, crossing my arms over my chest and not allowing her to distract me with discussion of Vincent and his presence in town, which I’m sure she is well aware of.

“You promised to change the oil in Minnie.”

Right. She asked if I would do the oil change on her Mini Cooper, which she so cleverly named Minnie, and I agreed. I sighand rub a hand over my face. I really don’t want to deal with her today, but I did make a promise.

“Why can’t you get this done at the auto shop in town?”

“You know exactly why. I willnotdeal withthat man.”

That “man” she’s referring to is Luca, the shifter who works at the auto body shop and gas station in town. He didn’t do anything wrong to her precious car; however, he may have asked her out on a few occasions, and for some reason, Ginger is extremely adamant about staying far away from him.

“I don’t know why you can’t just tell him you’re not interested like you do all the other guys who hit on you,” I grumble, stepping off my porch and rounding to my detached garage.

Pressing the code into the keypad, the rolling door begins to slowly lift, exposing my organized workshop within. I’m a little OCD when it comes to my tools and workspace. I’m not a mechanic by any means but I like to be prepared for any issue that may arise around the house. I also store many of my woodworking tools and wood scraps here.

“I want nothing to do with him. I don’t even want to be within sniffing distance of him.”

Not a completely unusual thing for a shifter since we have a very strong and sensitive sense of smell. However, in a small town, she can’t completely avoid him. She can avoid the auto body shop but can’t control where he’ll be elsewhere in town while she’s present.

Personally, I don’t really give two shits about her personal issues with Luca; she can evade him as much as she wants. But is it really necessary to have me do all her oil changes?

“Do I really need to do this? Can’t you just go to the auto shop when he’s not there?”

Ginger smirks at me, narrowing her eyes, and cocks out one hip, propping her hand on it.

“Do you really not want to change my oil? Or do you just not want me to bring up the whole picture in the woods thing with Lottie?”

I growl a warning, signaling I very much donotwant to talk about it. She, of course, ignores my warning as little sisters do, just wanting to annoy me more.

“It really was a flattering picture of you. Did she take any more?”

Keeping my back turned to her, I sift through my shelves, searching for the items I’ll need to do her oil change. I don’t answer her question because if I lie, she’ll just know by my smell, so why bother even trying? But I sure as hell am not going to tell her Lottie took other photos,selfieseven.

“Oh my god,” comes Ginger’s breathless and gleeful surprise. “You totally did take more photos. Tell me, what were they? Did you pose again? Did you roll over and let her scratch your belly?”

“Ginger.” My warning comes out low and laced with a growl.

“Oh, fine, you boring old stick in the mud. You’re no fun. Lighten up.” She leans her back against the shelving unit I’m mindlessly staring at.

I don’t even think what I need is on this shelf, but I don’t really see what’s in front of me. All I can see is Lottie and me in the forest, fearing that Lottie may at some point show Ginger the other photos since they seem to be getting close.

Turning on my heels, I switch to another shelf and find the oil, drip pan, and funnel.

“Pull your car up to the garage. I don’t want a mess in my gravel.”

“Yes, sir.” Ginger mock solutes and scrunches her face up in a comically stern and serious expression.

While I get to work changing her oil, Ginger sits on the rolling stool by my workbench and begins scrolling on her phone. I can only guess the multitude of things she could be doing on it. Shemay often act like an immature baby orangutan, but the girl is a computer genius. A few of our connections with non-humans in government positions have reached out in the past asking if she wanted to come to work for them, helping control the flow of information at a higher level. Each time, she turns them down. For some strange reason, she wants to stay right here in small-town Snowberry. Which surprises me with her love of high-end fashion and all things glamourous.

I always thought she would skip out of town as soon as possible so she could go to the big city and live the flashy life I always thought she wanted. Even with her teasing and loudmouth, I love my sister and am happy to have her in town with us. Even if she makes me change her oil because she has some sort of beef with the mechanic in town.

“Are you coming to karaoke tonight?” Ginger asks without looking up from her phone and spinning on the stool. Rolling from one side to another.

“Not likely. This week’s been long, and I think I might just stay at home and relax.”

“Go for a run, maybe?” she offers coyly.

I grunt in response.