Page 8

Chapter 8

McCoy

“And then I said—” Coy paused mid-story to swig back a mouthful of beer. All eyes were on her at the table, each one of her friends in varying degrees of absorption into her recap with Sawyer that morning. She thumped the table with her palm for added effect. “I said, ‘You want me to work for you after you all but kicked me to the curb last week? Dream on, you cold, unfeeling, un … beautiful bitch.’”

An odd mix of a choke and snort of laughter came from Abi, and Coy turned to look just as beer shot from her nose.

“Gross,” Coy complained with a laugh. “What, you don’t believe me?”

“Not for a second,” Krystal said, laughing too.

“I can’t speak for everyone, but you lost me somewhere between dream and unfeeling.” Taunya gave Coy a dubious shake of her head, but a broad grin was plastered on her face. She reached across the table to squeeze Coy’s arm. “Babe, you’re way too sweet to ever say that to a woman or anyone else with tits and a vulva.”

“I could have said it,” insisted Coy, although it lacked fervor. The truth of her interaction with Sawyer was ten times more embarrassing. How she’d eagerly welcomed Sawyer to the shop after being dismissed was humiliating. Coy prided herself on giving and receiving the same amount of respect, and yet, when Sawyer spoke of the car like she hadn’t been a complete bitch just the week before, Coy had lapped it up like the golden retriever Abi joked she was. There was just something about Sawyer that made Coy lose all sense.

One, she smells amazing. Like blackberries, spring rain, and … pastries? Coy wondered if that was an official perfume. If it wasn’t, it should be.

She sipped her beer, one arm casually draped over Abi’s shoulders, and listened to her friends discuss their partners. For once, Tess hadn’t joined Abi, and Coy was secretly grateful to have the fab five reunited for the evening. She glanced toward the bar where Sloane was busy behind the counter and did a double take as Naz’s tall frame came into view. Her second closest friend, and the only one who enjoyed the strip clubs like she did, was perched on a bar stool chatting to Sloane. Sloane appeared to be at least half listening as she made drinks, and that alone piqued Coy’s interest. From the day they’d met, Sloane had thought Naz was an obnoxious flake. What could they be talking about?

Abi squeezed Coy’s arm, drawing her attention back to the table rather than whatever game Naz was trying out on her sister. “You okay?”

Their eyes met, and Abi must have read something in Coy’s because she slipped her hand in hers and tugged. “Come pee with me.”

“Abs, that’s not exactly a group activity,” Coy protested but followed her out of the booth, regardless. Abi still held her hand, and the pair got more than a few looks from customers as they crossed the pub. One person, who Coy had seen quite a few times talking to Frankie, narrowed her gaze on Coy as they passed. They would no doubt run to Frankie, claiming Coy was having sex in the bathroom. Coy rolled her eyes at the thought. She’d had about all she could take today of dominant women.

Thankfully, the restroom wasn’t busy, likely because everyone was getting ready for Monday night’s slam poetry. Abi turned to face Coy the moment they were alone by the vanity. “Okay, now talk to me, playgirl.”

Coy winced at the nickname her friends had dubbed her for as long as she remembered. It wasn’t meant to be a dig, but tonight, it sort of felt like one. Was her playgirl label the reason Frankie had never trusted her enough to let down her many protective walls? Hell, Sawyer had practically called her that herself. To be fair, Coy had approached Sawyer in a club with the intention of giving her one night she’d never forget. In the past, it was all Coy had ever promised her lovers. It had suited her fine, but now?

A gush of air left Coy’s lungs. “I dunno. I guess I’m noticing things I never have before,” she admitted, peering into the mirror at Abi’s reflection. It was easier to discuss heavier things when she wasn’t actively looking someone dead on. She studied Abi’s outfit, appreciating how the dress accentuated her curves.

Abi gave Coy a slight shove, joking, “Hate to break it to you, but you’ve been noticing me for years.”

Coy smirked. “But can you really blame me?”

“Not at all, I’m hot.” Abi fanned herself, and Coy snorted in amusement.

They were silent for some time, Coy gathering her thoughts and deciding what her issue was of late at the core. It all seemed to tie in with Sawyer somehow, and she said as much to Abi. “It bothers me that she doesn’t like me. Especially since she’s all I can think about.” A sardonic laugh escaped, and she shook her head helplessly. “I don’t even know if she’s married, Abs. This woman is twisting me up, and I barely know anything about her. Just that she’s loaded, and she owns a French fusion restaurant not far from where you live.”

“Desmarais?” Abi wondered, excitement now in her eyes.

“Yeah, you know it? She gave me this after I changed her tire.” McCoy pulled her wallet from her denims, fishing the coupon out for Abi to examine.

As Abi scanned the contents, her smile widened. Their gazes met. “Coy, we’re gonna have fun with this.”

“Are you getting out sometime today, or …?” Sawyer asked the following morning, standing outside McCoy’s Jeep with her arms crossed. One eyebrow went up in a “Well, are you?” notion before she turned and headed for the garage. Coy stared at the captivating sway of Sawyer’s hips as she walked. This morning, she had dressed in a black hoodie and a sexy pair of matching running shorts that once again showed off enough leg to seriously question Coy’s choices. What was she doing here after Sawyer had all but tossed her to the curb the week before? Was she that much of a masochist?

No, it was all about earning extra money to help her nana out. Well, that and the exotic beauty of a supercar sitting in Sawyer’s garage. Coy was a mechanic and car lover; slipping hints of Coy possibly getting the chance to not only see one of the rare McLaren P1s up close but that she might actually get to rebuild one was practically catnip to car enthusiasts everywhere.

“Well, Tegan girl, wish me luck,” Coy whispered, giving her first love an affectionate rub on the dash as she hopped out. As she noticed Sawyer standing inside the spacious garage with her arms crossed, the heady rush of anticipation that coiled Coy’s stomach was new.

“Is this her?” Coy blurted out as she approached Sawyer. She was rocking back on her heels, brimming with excitement as she eyed the car hidden underneath a black covering. She grinned sheepishly, sending a quick prayer above to keep her cool this time around. For some reason, she couldn’t stop becoming a bumbling idiot when she was within touching distance of the older woman.

“ Her ?” Sawyer deadpanned, casting Coy a speculative glance. She gestured to the car hidden underneath the covering. “Undress her gently, or you’ll get hurt.”

An awkward laugh escaped Coy. Maybe she had a sense of humor after all? “Sure thing,” she agreed, giddily closing in on the McLaren. She glanced at Sawyer over her shoulder, and for a moment, she was thrown off by the brief look of pain on her face. Coy reached for the car’s covering, pulling out the stretch elastic along the edges and filling the silence as she went. “Did you know there were only three hundred seventy-five P1ss ever made? In 2013, the advanced technology that went into this type of supercar was ahead of its time. Of course, now, other companies have followed suit and have been more than successful recreating the best parts of the P1 and making them their own.”

“You sound like my husband.”

Coy froze, canting her head Sawyer’s way. Disappointment settled over her. “Husband?”

Of course , a beautiful, driven woman like Sawyer would have a husband. She probably had kids, too. Maybe that’s why she’s in the closet .

Sawyer turned away, rubbing her arms as if she were cold, and Coy would have stopped what she was doing if she thought Sawyer would be accepting of a hug. She didn’t, and as she began pulling off the cover, she heard bitterness in Sawyer’s husky voice. “Yes, except he would never believe there was a better car out there than his precious McLaren. He was an esti d’cave. ”

“What the actual fuck?”

Coy’s eyes bugged out as she revealed the supercar. The rapid tic in her throat felt like she was uncovering a corpse, not a car, and she hadn’t quite reached the midway point when she stumbled backwards. “Is that blood?”

“Olivier’s, yes.”

Coy jumped at the sound of Sawyer’s voice so close behind her. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled, and she couldn’t look away from the caved in windshield and driver’s seat for the life of her.

“I-I don’t understand. Y-you want me to rebuild this ?”

Sawyer clasped her hands together, watching Coy. She took a step closer, and Coy took an exaggerated step back until she was pressed against the tool chest. Sawyer’s chuckle was dry, humorless. “I didn’t kill him, if that’s what you’re thinking. What I really want to know is, are you capable of rebuilding a car like this?”

“I … I am, yes, but …” Coy trailed off, trying to understand what the hell was going on. “Why would you want to … Wait, is your husband still alive?”

“No, I’m afraid not.”

The disassociation in Sawyer’s voice gave Coy chills. She darted her gaze back and forth between the car and the woman staring back at her. Sawyer seemed a lot less shaken than she should have been, considering. That was Coy’s unprofessional opinion, of course. She felt like she might lose the breakfast sandwich she’d eaten before her arrival.

“Y-yet you want me to rebuild it? Sawyer, did he die in this car?”

Sawyer waved her hand as if the question was inconsequential. “Yes. I’ve been wanting it rebuilt for some time but haven’t found anyone worth hiring. Until you.”

“Worth” hiring? Coy didn’t believe that for a second. It felt an awful lot like Sawyer had a vendetta against Coy, and setting her in front of her poor husband’s deathmobile was a payback of sorts. For what, she didn’t know. Surely a little harmless flirting wasn’t the equivalent of scaring the bejeezus out of someone?

Coy’s head was spinning. She chanced another look at the car again. One entire side of the car would need to be rebuilt. Two of the tires were twisted off, the engine likely a goner. And she wasn’t entirely convinced of Sawyer’s sanity. Coy had gotten involved before with a lesbian that hadn’t been a hundred percent, and let’s just say it wasn’t something she was eager to have a repeat of. “Um, like, my mind is blown right now. Can we maybe talk about this outside?”

Coy all but ran out into the fresh air, taking long pulls of fresh air into her lungs. She wasn’t being blasé at all, which was embarrassing, but she couldn’t help it. Something about this whole thing seemed off.

“You seem troubled, McCoy.”

Coy stopped pacing and turned to look at Sawyer, at her calm features. Coy’s hands rubbed the back of her neck as she stood there, not knowing what to think. “Sawyer, I’ve rebuilt cars before, even ones from accidents, but none where a person died in it. They send those cars to the junkyard.”

“And I want this one rebuilt to its former glory. I won’t stand here and rehash all the reasons with you, McCoy,” Sawyer bit out, setting her cold eyes on McCoy. “I have money, lots of it. If you’re up to the task, you’ll be paid handsomely for it.”

Handsomely? Who spoke like that? Coy shook her head in confusion. “So buy a new one. Do you know how expensive it’ll be to repair a car like this? We’re talking almost a complete restoration, Sawyer.”

“Do you question all your customers until they decide to go elsewhere?”

“What you’re asking me to do is …”

“Crazy? It’s only crazy when you’re not seeing the full picture.”

Coy nodded, agreeing with her there. She clasped her hands together. “Okay, so give it to me. Explain why this needs to happen.”

“No.” The hardness in Sawyer’s voice made Coy’s head snap up to look at her. She was glaring again, her angular jaw clenched so hard it was a wonder her teeth didn’t break under the pressure. “I’m offering your father’s company a lucrative job. If you take it, this will be the last conversation we’ll have about the McLaren. You’ll either accept my conditions or walk away.”

Coy swallowed, confused by her body’s reaction to Sawyer’s. Even when she was downright hateful, Coy couldn’t stop the intense attraction she felt for the older woman. “What conditions?”

Sawyer stepped closer to Coy until they were almost touching. Then she reached into her purse and pulled out another slip of paper. Coy’s eyes widened. “Is that a … contract?”

Sawyer nodded once, just a jerk of her pretty head. The side part in her hair hardly swayed with the movement. Their eyes met, and as usual, Coy felt as if she was caught up in the turbulence of storms. “Take some time to read it over. My number is on the bottom. You can text me if you have questions or when you’ve made a decision. I work a lot of hours, so most of the time that you’re here, you’ll be alone. I’ll be letting you into the garage only via a smart app.”

“Excuse me, what? Pops won’t go for that. The business isn’t insured for off-site projects.” Coy’s cheeks heated at going toe to toe with Sawyer.

Sawyer only shrugged. “Then work for me on your own time. I don’t care, but the car stays in my garage. Like I said, I won’t be here for most of the time but will still be able to keep an eye on things with my surveillance from time to time.”

Coy scanned the contract. It was basic, to the point. No stealing, no recording of the process, commit to six days a week, be punctual, but contact Sawyer if she can’t make it for some reason. Coy fought the urge to roll her eyes when she noticed that Sawyer had written in three different areas—and underlined them—that Coy was not to flirt with her.

Like we’d even see each other much.

“I’d have to work early mornings. Like, early early.” Coy glanced up at Sawyer, explaining, “I work at the shop at nine, and in the evenings—”

Sawyer held up her hand, silencing Coy just as she’d done in the shop. It should be an infuriating trait Coy hated, but she didn’t. At all. In fact, a flush of warmth spread over her each time Sawyer’s assertiveness sprung forth.

“That’s not an issue. I’m awake by five and leave for work by eight.”

Coy nodded. Am I actually considering this?

Not having her breathing down Coy’s neck could be a positive thing, and she needed the money for her nana. She licked her lips, aware of the subtle drop of Sawyer’s eyes as she did so. Was this contract for Coy’s benefit or Sawyer’s? Whichever it was, Coy had a feeling she was already in way over her head.

Wait ‘til Abs finds out about this.