And, because he’d watched her the entire afternoon, he knew it hadn’t really played into her decision to accept, either. She’d had a couple of drinks during Mitch and Paige’s reception, but she’d been far from drunk.
But being chief had honed his acting skills and he was ready to put this eight-months-delayed morning-after awkwardness behind them. “Not a big deal. And now, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it doesn’t look like you’ll be driving this car anytime soon, so let’s move your stuff into my SUV before the tow truck gets here.”
He watched her chew at her bottom lip for a few seconds before she gave a resigned sigh. “I’ll be lucky if Butch can get parts for it, never mind fix it in a hurry.”
Butch Benoit ran the garage and gas part of the Whitford General Store & Service Station while his wife, Fran, ran the store part. He was an honest guy who didn’t play games and very few residents made the drive into the city to save a few bucks on service. “I think he’ll tell you to get whatever you can from the insurance company and use it as a down payment on something a little newer.”
She swore under her breath, but leaned into the car to get her purse and assorted other belongings from the front seat. He pulled the SUV as close as he could and started transferring things from the truck. By the time Butch arrived with the ramp truck, her car was empty of everything except the trash a long road trip generated, and his SUV was loaded down with her damp boxes and bags.
Drew moved his vehicle to make way for the tow truck, their light bars flashing bright in the night, then watched while Butch ran the hydraulics and dragged Liz’s car up the ramp.
“You sure know how to make an entrance, girl,” Butch told Liz once the wreck was strapped down. “I’ll look it over tomorrow, but even if you didn’t muck up the frame, it ain’t gonna be easy finding fenders for this one. Insured?”
“Yeah,” Liz said.
She looked like somebody had kicked her dog, so Drew suspected she wasn’t anticipating getting a lot from her insurance company. The car simply wasn’t worth very much, even before she’d crumpled it up.
“You need a ride up to the lodge?” Butch asked.
Before Liz could answer, Drew stepped in. “She can ride with me. I’ve got all her stuff in my cruiser, anyway.”
“Okay, then. Liz, you can stop by anytime and I’ll give you an update. Make sure you call your insurance company tomorrow.”
She nodded, and then Drew collected the orange safety triangles he’d set out before gesturing for her to get in. Trying to ignore how weird it felt to have Liz Kowalski riding shotgun with him, he put the SUV in gear and headed for town.
“Where are we going?” she asked when they’d hit Whitford and he turned away from her sister-in-law’s house.
“Need to stop by my house first.” Not that he’d be inviting her in, because that could be a recipe for disaster. And to make sure he didn’t have a moment of weakness, he wasn’t even going to unlock the front door.
It only took a few minutes to reach the small farmhouse-style home he’d had to buy half of from his ex-wife, and he was glad it was dark. Since Mallory had left, he was having a little trouble with her flower beds and all her hanging plants, so the property looked a little shabby around the edges.
She didn’t say anything as he pulled up the right side of his driveway and then reached up to hit the button to open the left-side door.
“Hold on a sec,” he told her as the overhead door started to rise, and climbed out.
Once the door rattled open, he hit the light switch, illuminating his prized possession. It was a 1970 Mustang, the Boss 302, in brilliant orange with black racing stripes. He opened the door, slid into the leather seat and turned the key. It fired right up, the throaty engine purring like a kitten.
After letting it run a moment, he drove it out of the garage and parked it alongside the cruiser. After he got out, he closed the overhead door and gestured for Liz to join him.
“You can drive this until you figure out what’s up with your car,” he said, when she’d climbed out of the SUV and walked over to him.
Her eyes grew huge as she looked back and forth between him and the car, and then she shook her head. “I can’t borrow your Mustang, Drew.”
“Needs to be driven and I spend most of my time in the SUV, so you’d be doing me a favor. And it’s insured.”
“Nice try. Look, I appreciate the offer, but—”
“Did you know this car was the only one to beat Mitch’s Camaro in the quarter-mile back in the day?”
She smiled, running her hand over the black-striped hood scoop in a way that made him think of sex. “He’s always claimed he missed a shift.”
“Maybe my car was better or maybe I was the better driver but, either way, seeing the car annoys him. You driving it would really annoy him and I like keeping Mitch on his toes.”