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Chapter Fifteen
EMMA
“Ican’t believe you restore cars,” she told George as Meowmus climbed all over her lap. His little nails were puncturing her yoga pants, but she didn’t care. He was too cute.
“That’s so cool. I’ve never met a female mechanic. Not that I remember anyway,” she added wryly.
Emma had known Georgia for an hour, give or take ten minutes. But the small black woman’s warmth and sweetness had touched her. She’d felt enveloped by it, and before she knew it, she was telling Georgia her life story—the bit she remembered.
Needless to say, it hadn’t taken long.
“We’re not as rare a breed as you might think.” George offered Meowmus a ball with a bell inside. “But I admit I’m biased. I’ve been tinkering with cars since I was a kid.”
“That’s amazing, finding your calling so young.” Emma sighed. “I wish I knew what I was going to do with my life.”
Holding down a regular job had felt like an insurmountable goal after her accident. Emma had fought tooth and nail to become a barista.
It was the first step in the long road to reclaiming her life. Unfortunately, she didn’t know what the second one was.
Georgia leaned over, putting her hand on her arm. “You need togive yourself time. You’re still healing. But once you do, you’ll find something you love as much as I love fixing up old junkers.” Georgia’s eyes lit up. “Hey, do you want to learn how to do an oil change?”
Emma beamed at her. “Yes!”
“You’re on! Next time I need to do one, I’ll come get you.”
Giggling, Georgia launched into an anecdote about her latest customer at the car restoration place, a former rom-com actor who’d found unexpected success as an action star in his sixties.
They got so lost in conversation Emma didn’t notice how much time had passed until the men came back downstairs.
Rainer invited them to join them for dinner. Emma was pleasantly surprised when Garrett checked with her before accepting. And though she was a little tired, she wanted to spend more time with George.
By the time they were done with the five-course meal, she was ready to crash.
“Just roll me to your guest room,” she yawned, cuddling Meowmus to her chest as Garrett ushered her back into his penthouse.
“Will do,” he said, taking the sleeping cat from her arms when she stumbled on his absurdly shiny marble floor.
Taking her hand, he took her deeper into the inner sanctum, past several very nice bedrooms, to a truly spectacular master suite done up in greens and pale beige.
The bedroom he took her to was across the hall from it.
Garrett set the kitten in the little bed someone had thoughtfully placed next to a brand-new litter box. “I’m through here,” he said, jerking his thumb behind at a pair of double doors leading to the master bedroom—as if it wasn’t obvious that the palace suite was his.
“I can sleep with the door open if you think you might need something.”
Emma’s brain was half-asleep but that woke her up. “No thanks, weirdo,” she said, kicking off her shoes.
“Funny,” he said a touch defensively. “Here I thought I was being considerate.”
“Nope.” She gave him a pointed look. “Just weird.Also, I’ll be sleeping with my door closed. Please don’t come inside here in the middle of the night to smell my hair.”
Garrett snorted, choking on nothing. “I’ll try to resist,” he deadpanned.
He glanced at the kitten, who snuffled when he laughed. “What if Meowmus pees on the floor?”
She looked down at the marble floor. “I’ll clean it. Speaking of the floor, why is it warm?”
“There are heating coils under the stones.” He pointed at the boxes in the corner. “Your stuff is still packed up. Want me to grab you a T-shirt to sleep in?”