Page 10

Chapter 10

McCoy

“Hey, hey, sorry I’m late. Did I miss much?” Coy wondered, slowly lowering herself into the armchair beside her father’s old recliner. Her muscles protested with the effort, but she sighed the moment her ass molded into the plush seat.

“Bo just got hit while up at bat,” Sloane supplied from her place on the sofa. Watching the Sunday baseball game with their dad had been a tradition of theirs for years, and one Coy made happen no matter what else she had going on.

“The Jays are playing strong, but the Yankees are always one step faster today,” Greg added excitedly. He reached into the cooler beside his chair, pulling out a beer for Coy. “‘K, it’s back on.”

Coy turned her attention to the sixty-five-inch flat screen on the wall. She’d bought it for his fiftieth birthday the year before. Sloane had bought him a new recliner, but he’d loved his old one too much to give it up. The new one was currently sitting in their apartment, and there was a constant battle between their friends about who would sit there.

“Whoa, Vladdy baby is on fire!” Sloane commented to no one in particular, one hand digging into her bowl of popcorn. Vladimir Guerrero Jr had been her favorite player since he’d joined the roster in 2019.

Coy sipped her beer, her attention to the game taking a back seat as the McLaren, and by proxy, Sawyer came to mind. She couldn’t imagine keeping something her loved one had died in. It didn’t matter if it was an exotic car or a thousand-dollar bed she’d bought at Sleep Country. If death touched it, that shit was gone. Goosebumps broke out on her arms just thinking about the McLaren. Sawyer had acted so aloof about the whole thing. Was it because the accident happened a long time ago, or was there something Coy was missing?

“So did you sign the paperwork for the car job?” Greg asked during the next commercial break. He shifted in the recliner, giving Coy his full attention.

“No, not until I see her tomorrow. Why—do you not think I should? She won’t hire me otherwise, Pops.” Not with that level of obsession with contracts, Coy snickered to herself.

“Who is this?”

Coy glanced at her sister again. “Her name is Sawyer—the woman from the warehouse, remember? I told you about the flat tire.”

“Pause, game’s back on,” Greg told them, all business. Coy sighed, reining in her impatience. Her father was as hardcore as fans got. He had his Blue Jays jersey and cap on, and it wasn’t unheard of for him to occasionally jump from his seat and yell at the TV. “It’s not a bad idea. I just wanna make sure you’re able to commit to that contract. It’d take up way more time than you’re used to, Coy,” he said a bit later. “But man, luck must have been on your side when you said you were looking for extra work this summer.”

Coy agreed, and then her father wanted a refresher rundown of the kind of work the McLaren needed. It took the entire commercial break, so she had to wait until the following one to reel in her dad’s attention again. “Since I have to rebuild it there, do you think an industrial lift would fit in? I haven’t measured the ceiling height or door clearance, but it looks like a standard two-car garage.”

Greg considered that for a moment, stroking his short goatee like he did when he was in deep thought. He had the same hair color and similar eyes as she and Sloane. “What about a scissor lift, just to be sure? It’s small, and you can move it back and forth with a dolly. They usually hold three tons or more. And then you can buy car dollies to roll the McLaren over to the lift. Just buy an attachment that supports the caliper where the rims are missing. She’s paying for it all, right?”

“That’s what she said.” Coy nodded. She hadn’t thought of a scissor lift, which was just one of many reasons she loved talking things out with her dad; he was always a fountain of information. “Great idea. Think you could help me get it on the lift when the time comes?”

“I was hoping you’d ask.” Greg laughed his big belly laugh. Talking shop was the only thing that excited him more than sports. “If this Sawyer woman gives the okay, I’d love to get a good look under the hood. We could take J.D. along.”

“Okay, game’s back on, boys ,“ Sloane drawled. She didn’t share the same love of engines. If it wasn’t for Coy, her sister’s red T-top Trans Am wouldn’t even have a name. Coy shuddered at the thought. “Sara” had been named the same day she’d named Tegan.

They watched the final inning with minor interruptions. Coy still had Sawyer on her mind, but now it was back at Desmarais and how gorgeous she’d looked in her chef’s uniform. Coy had been shocked stupid when Sawyer approached their table, looking sexy and confident and truly boss-like. Conversing over menu options had gone well until Abi let it slip that Coy planned to take the job. Sawyer had clearly been thrown with that tidbit. Her eyes had widened seconds before narrowing to slits on Coy. She wasn’t someone who enjoyed surprises, and a part of Coy had felt guilty.

For once, she wanted to do something Sawyer was okay with, and it wasn’t merely the insane attraction she felt making her feel this way. She wanted to know things, details she’d never wondered about before. What made Sawyer smile? Did she love being a chef? Was she as passionate about her job as Coy was with hers? What kind of food did she like? Coy could learn a lot about a person by knowing those answers.

Setting her empty beer bottle on the coffee table, Coy dug her phone out and pulled up Sawyer’s number, which she’d already added to her contacts. It felt strange to soon be working alone on Sawyer’s property when they’d barely said a civil word to each other. Or rather, Sawyer hadn’t said as much to her . Coy’s thumb hovered over the SMS box as she hesitated, wondering what was on Sawyer’s “safe list” of questions to ask. But Sawyer had said to text if she had some, so there was that. If Coy could think of some that didn’t include the whys or WTFs concerning the supercar, she should be golden.

Coy pulled up a new SMS under Sawyer’s name, deep in thought. She had a feeling she could ask the simplest of questions, such as the color of the sky, and Sawyer would tell her to lose her number. But what if Coy supplied facts rather than asked them?

Only one way to find out.

Coy: Hi, it’s me, McCoy. You never requested a background check or anything so I thought I’d fill you in on a few things about me. In case you have nosey neighbors or something LOL. 1. I was arrested once at a protest but the charges never stuck. 2. I listen to a lot of gay music and audiobooks while I work, sometimes without headphones in. 3. Dogs love me. You’ve been forewarned! If your neighbor has one, chances are I’ll get acquainted with them or their human. And 4. You make the best food I’ve ever tasted.

Coy chewed her thumbnail, her stomach in knots as she waited for Sawyer to reply. After five minutes, her attention waned, and she was sucked back into the game. It wasn’t for another hour before she heard the ping of her phone.

Sassy Sawyer: Random, and nothing to do with the job. Typical Gen Z.

The corner of Coy’s mouth quirked up. Such a Sawyer thing to say.

“I think we’ve got it, kiddo.” Greg grunted as they gave the McLaren one final push onto the lift.

“Ah, it’s looking gooood, Pops,” Coy exclaimed, dashing to shove the gearshift into park as soon as the car was in place. She let out an excited laugh, rushing back to her father’s side. They bumped fists before Coy clapped him on the back. “Let’s get the blocks on.”

“It’s too bad J.D. couldn’t make it,” Greg commented, tossing her a tire block. While he’d been at the shop that morning, Coy had to come early to Sawyer’s to accept the lift delivery. As soon as Miller’s Mechanics & Restoration closed at noon, her dad had found his way here. The only hiccup so far was forgetting to give Sawyer a heads-up that the delivery was coming earlier than planned. It … hadn’t gone over well.

“J.D. took off with Sloane to Squamish,” Coy muttered, squatting to slip the protective mats in place under the McLaren. “Sloane’s a little put out that I took a side job when biking is picking up now. The trails are getting nicer every weekend.”

“Well, I’ve always said, twin or not, you can’t do everything together. You always go out on the trails with Sloane,” Greg reminded her. Once the car was secured, they walked over to the hydraulic controls.

“I know. I’m not doing it to piss her off. I just think this job could be a great opportunity.” Not to mention she’d get to see a lot more of Sawyer. Nothing wrong with that. Nothing at all. “It doesn’t help that we usually work opposite shifts.”

“Might be good to schedule time next week, though. Sloane’s cut from a different cloth than you, McCoy. She doesn’t do well alone.” It wasn’t anything Coy hadn’t heard before, but the reminder dulled her grand mood anyway.

“Did you read the instructions?”

Coy nodded, glancing down at the plate fastened to the top of the control system. For a few grand, the lift was remarkably handy. While it’d been bought on Sawyer’s dime, McCoy wondered if, by the end of this, she could sweet talk her into having it. Based on the fact she was paying to have the McLaren rebuilt rather than scrapped, Sawyer likely threw away money like it was nothing. “Watch and learn, Pops.” She heard him chuckle as she pressed the locking mechanism. Then she pressed up. It took a moment for the gears to shift into place before the machine began to lift.

“So, this is what’s got you two cackling like fools out here,” Sawyer said from the doorway. Coy glanced over her shoulder with a grin, but Sawyer looked unimpressed. “I could hear you from the kitchen. Thought Tim the Tool Man was in the house.”

Coy furrowed her brow. “Tim the Tool Man?” But her father gave Sawyer a good-natured laugh.

“I loved that show!”

“I’m so excited,” Sawyer drolly replied, sounding anything but, “to have two McCoy’s in my house.”

“Puh-lease, he wishes he was as cool as me.” Coy snorted a laugh when her dad popped her on the shoulder. He was so easy to razz. Once Sawyer had gone back into the house, Greg nudged her.

“She’s pretty, Coy.”

Coy wrinkled her nose. “You’re being gross. And we’re not an item.”

“You think she’s gross?”

Groaning, Coy covered her face with one hand, trying to block out him and his embarrassing questions. “What? No. Sawyer’s gorgeous. You’re gross for bringing it up.”

Greg scratched his goatee, humor shining in his hazel eyes. “I think she likes you.”

Coy started the lift again, shaking her head. “God, please don’t tell her I think she’s attractive. I know when a woman likes me, and that’s not it.”

“We’ll see.”

She shook her head at his need to always have the last word. Their banter could go for hours if she didn’t cave now. She tilted her head toward the McLaren and moved her hand to the release button on the control panel. “Lift is working well.” They watched the car lower back to the floor. Coy was eager to get started on the disassembling process. It was only then she’d know what she needed for parts.

“Want to stay and help?”

“I’d love to, kiddo, but Miranda is coming over tonight. I’m cooking.”

“Ahh, nice. I really like her dad.” Coy smiled.

“Yeah, she’s pretty amazing, isn’t she?” Greg agreed. Coy walked him out to the driveway, watching as he climbed into his truck. It rumbled to life before Greg glanced at her out the window, “Hey, want me to bring you some supper later?”

Coy waved him off. “Not unless you’re taking your honey out for a drive. I won’t be blamed for getting between you and Miranda.” Greg let out a sly chuckle, raising his arm on a wave and driving off.

Coy headed back into the garage, still smiling a little as she set up her Bluetooth headphones. A moment later, her current sapphic audiobook came on. She’d read the ebook version of The Stepmother by Melissa Tereze a while ago, but listening to the sexy British narrator just hit differently. Melissa was one of Coy’s favorite indie authors. She wrote sex scenes so steamy Coy had no choice but to reenact a few of them. To make sure they were realistic, of course.

Earlier, Coy had done a thorough walk around the McLaren, taking notice of the extensive exterior damage. The roof and windshield were semi-caved in, the former likely due to the car rolling. Without removing anything that hadn’t already broken off on impact, she could tell two rotors were cracked, one rim twisted right off its axle. The suspension or control arm behind it was likely damaged. The spoiler hadn’t been engaged at the time, so it might have survived the accident. The firefighters must have had to cut off the door, and the frame rail had taken the brunt of the damage. Both front fenders would need replacing, but there was the possibility of having to order a new tub that would be costly.

Today, Coy wanted to at least get started on removing what was left of the windshield and vacuuming the car out before she left. But first came the wipers. Using her ratchet attachment, she removed the wiper arms and cowl panel. The panel was still in good condition, but the wiper arms had been bent.

As Coy moved on to cutting out the frame of the windshield, it was hard not to think of Sawyer’s husband. She’d never been so personally involved in salvaging a car before. It felt intimate, knowing the few details she did. The aged blood stains on the microsuede steering wheel and dash were distracting, and she kept wondering just how the accident had happened.

When that was done and she’d set the remnants off to the side, Coy plugged in the Shop Vac she had brought and got started on cleaning out the interior. She was halfway done when she nicked her thumb on a piece of broken door jamb.

“Fuck,” Coy shut the vacuum off and squeezed her thumb, looking for glass inside the seeping wound. There likely wasn’t any, given how modern windshields were made, but Coy grabbed the First Aid kit she always kept inside Tegan’s glove compartment. She was applying a Band-Aid when Sawyer entered, dressed like she was heading out the door again. Unfortunately, the audiobook she was listening to was about five minutes into her favorite sex scene. Sawyer’s eyes widened just a fraction, no doubt catching the way the narrator’s husky voice pronounced the word pussy. She came to an abrupt stop at the foot of the stairs, one hand clenching the railing like her life depended on it. A hint of a blush darkened her beautiful cheeks.

Then Sawyer noticed the drying blood on Coy’s hand. “Cut yourself already?” she demanded, her voice at a higher octave than normal. “Are you even up to this task? Tell me now so I can put my money elsewhere.”

“Believe me, I’m up to the task.” The reply wasn’t supposed to sound seductive, but unfortunately, it was how Coy’s brain took the assignment. She inwardly groaned, watching as Sawyer’s back went rigid.

One, two, thr—

“Do I need to post copies of the contract around my property?” Sawyer gritted through clenched teeth. Wow, the woman really didn’t appreciate come-ons, even unintentional ones. “Here’s an idea, Casanova. How about instead of practicing your ridiculous one-liners, you memorize this look of disinterest on my face? And turn that noise off. I don’t need my neighbors thinking I’m watching porn.”

Disinterested my ass, Coy thought, her mouth tilting up in one corner as she went to switch off the audiobook. She’d seen the gleam in Sawyer’s eyes at the restaurant. There was something she liked about Coy, whether she knew it yet or not. She opened her mouth with every intention of correcting Sawyer’s use of the name Casanova, considering it was a term reserved for a man, but that wasn’t what came out.

“You hold an awful lot of judgment for someone you don’t really know. If you want, I could change that for you.”

Unbridled surprise flooded Sawyer for about two seconds before her features went blank once again. “Haven’t you been spamming me with unsolicited info about you for six days now?” One eyebrow raised with the question, and Coy thought she saw a hint of a smirk on Sawyer’s face as she held up her phone in reference. “You like dogs, have terrible taste in music, and would rather spend your savings on your car than go to Europe. Really, McCoy, I know more about you than I ever needed or wanted to.”

Coy’s whole body flushed with heat, and she shifted uncomfortably on her feet. She’d been called out, and damn, Sawyer was hot when she challenged her. Coy responded to Sawyer like she used to with her grade ten math teacher, only the allure was a hundred times more powerful.

“I like you. I don’t know why, considering you don’t give me the time of day.” Coy cracked a grin, darting a quick glance at Sawyer before looking away again. Her heart thudded in her chest so loud she was almost certain Sawyer could hear it. She swallowed. “I like the way I feel when I’m around you.”

Silence permeated the garage. The air felt charged now, and it crackled with unseen tension after Coy’s admission. She slowly lifted her gaze to where Sawyer remained on the garage steps, an inscrutable expression staring back at her.

“Well,” Sawyer stated after a moment. She cleared her throat, and Coy watched as she marched to her Range Rover. “Lock up when you’re done.”

“Have a great day, Sawyer,” Coy told her, raising a hand in an awkward side-to-side wave.

“Ahem, yes. You as well, McCoy.”

And then Sawyer was in her SUV, driving out of the open garage and away from Coy.

“Smooth, Coy. Real smooth,” she muttered to the empty room.