Page 64 of All This Time

“A 1968 Cadillac Coupe de Ville, 62 series. Dilynne’s gonna show it off next month and make all the men in the room walk around with hard-ons for the rest of the day.”

Dilynne slides out from under the classic car she’s working on, spinning on her rolling board to face us. Steven and I both stare down at her. “You know, you’re lucky I’m a cool boss because that kind of talk wouldn’t fly everywhere.” She holds out her hand, waiting for Steven to hand her the rod he was speaking of, I assume. Dilynne may be my best friend, and I may have listened to her drone on and on about cars over the years, but I still have no clue what the hell any of this is. “And you’re lucky I know your wife.”

“My hot as fuck wife,” he corrects her. “Don’t forget that part.”

“Of course. How could I forget?”

“How is Chelsea doing by the way?” I ask him as I run my hand along the body of the car Dilynne is working on.

“Getting hotter by the day.”

Dilynne kicks his shoe as she takes the rod and sets it on top of her stomach. Luckily, she wears Carhartt coveralls anytime she’s workingin the garage, so the grease tends to only end up on those, and not everywhere else. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, Laney and I have some important business to discuss.”

“Business about wieners and smut?”

“Always,” I tease him.

“Hell yeah!” Steven fist pumps the air as he heads back to the office.

I point my thumb in the direction he just went. “Does he ever not say something that’s laced with innuendo?”

“Nope,” Dilynne answers frankly before brushing her forearm against her forehead. Her red bandana slides back a bit, but she pulls it back into place to keep her hair out of her face while she works. “So, what’s up?” She rolls the board back under the fender well of the car, but I know she’s listening. You’d be amazed at how many conversations we’ve had like this.

Sighing, I say, “It’s Fletcher.”

“Yeah, I assumed as much. Fill me in. What’s happened since Saturday?”

I’ve only given Dilynne bits and pieces of what the past few days have been like.

“So, you know how he scheduled appointments at the salon?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, he found out that I call him Lucifer and keep a swear jar for anyone who says his name.”

Dilynne snorts. “Let me guess, Glenn let it slip?”

“Yes, and speaking of my employees, why didn’t you tell me that you invited them out with us on Friday?”

She slides toward me just far enough that I can see her face, pointing a wrench up at me. “Because I knew you’d back out if I did. And this way, I have peer pressure to keep you from canceling.”

I glare at her. “I really hate you sometimes.”

“No you don’t. Now, continue. How was he while he was at the salon?”

“He was…fine.”Fineis putting it lightly. Everyone fell in love with him, he tipped the entire staff very generously, even those that didn’t assist him, and the image of him ripping off his shirt in front of me has been burned into my brain for all eternity. Not to mention, Glenn pinned his signed April calendar page up next to his station so he can brag about it to all his clients.

“Nope.” She waves a finger at me from under the car. “That’s what you said when I texted you. Now spill.”

Sighing, I cross my arms around my waist and give my best friend the Cliff Notes version, but only the things that irritated me. “Well, he took his shirt off in front of everyone, admitted that he only made the appointments because he was trying to support my business, and then programmed his contact information into my glucose monitoring app so he gets alerts now when my sugar is out of whack.”

Dilynne slowly rolls out from under the car and sits up on the board, blinking a few times. “Holy shit.”

“Right? And then when he came to my house the next night to fill favors, I was trying to be cool, pretend like things between us were normal because it actually really did mean a lot that he came into the salon. But then I found out that my brother and Henley told him about Spencer—the whole story.”

Dilynne rolls her eyes. “I swear, those boys gossip worse than teenage girls.”

“Seriously… And Fletcher insisted that if I felt like being Tori’s maid of honor was too much, to let him know. So I assured him that I’m fine, and he doesn’t need to worry about me.”