LITMIR.BIZ

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a thorough walkabout and once satisfied that the fire was completely out, he put the tools away and approached Bailey while Jim filled out the report inside the truck. “You okay?” He rubbed her shoulders, noticing the goose bumps on her forearms, despite the heat waves radiating from the highway.

      “Yeah... That was just so sudden.”

      The car’s owner had jumped out of the tow truck and run some twenty-five yards away while his vehicle was consumed by flames. He joined them now, shaking slightly.

      “My car,” he said, wide-eyed as he stared at the charred mess.

      “It only takes a small spark to ignite into major flames,” Ethan told him, then turned once more to Bailey. “I think you should unhook the car. That thing is a hazard. You don’t want it in your shop.” Who knew what else was wrong with that wreck? In his professional opinion, it was a chance too risky to take...not to mention his personal concern as her friend.

      “What? You won’t tow it?” The man looked frantic at the thought of being stranded on the side of the highway any longer.

      “I seriously doubt there’s a whole lot Bailey can—” Ethan started, but Bailey interrupted.

      “Of course I will.”

      Ethan shot her an annoyed look and lowered his voice. “I really don’t think it’s a good idea, Bailey.”

      “I appreciate your concern, Ethan, but it’s not your decision to make. We both know Uncle Doug would never leave this car stranded.”

      She was right, and while he wanted to argue, he knew his words would fall on deaf ears. Bailey had been on her own since she was seventeen. She’d lost her mom to cancer at twelve, and she’d been desperate to escape her family home where her father and two overprotective brothers had driven her crazy. Listening to the advice of others was not her strong point. She insisted on doing things her way. That stubborn independence was one of the things he liked about his friend, unless he was going up against it.

      “Fine, it’s your shop.” He shrugged, but he couldn’t resist taking a jab at her. “Oh...and be sure to have fun tonight,” he said with a smirk as he hopped back into the fire truck.

      * * *

      ARRIVING BACK AT the shop fifteen minutes later, after dropping the frazzled Mr. Huntley at the Brookhollow Inn for the evening, Bailey wasn’t surprised to find the door locked and no one around. Nick wouldn’t be there unless he had to be. She let herself in and picked up the mail on the floor. Flicking through the envelopes, she was happy to see payments for work completed last month.

      Her uncle had run the shop on an invoicing system for the town locals. Only out-of-towners were required to pay at the time of delivery and even then he accepted personal checks. When she’d taken over the bookkeeping and accounting side of the business several months before, there had been many outstanding, unpaid invoices. In a few short weeks, she’d collected on almost all of them and the shop’s finances were in much better shape. Unfortunately the surplus in revenue had been one of the reasons her uncle had been able to talk her into giving Nick the job as her apprentice that summer.

      She pushed through the swinging door that led to the bays where two vehicles awaited paint jobs. Might as well get them ready for pickup and parked outside before bringing in the Jetta. Though she wasn’t sure what she could do to fix the old car. She’d try her best, but she suspected it was headed for the junkyard in town.

      Sighing, she tied her hair back into a ponytail at the base of her neck, tucking the strands beneath her collar. Detail work was her least favorite job. She’d rather be under the body or peering under a hood any day.

      Approaching the workbench where all the paint supplies and air-brush color cans were, she noticed several detail brushes in containers of warm, soapy water and six or seven spray cans in the trash under the desk. Had Doug come by and completed the work himself? Since retiring, he sometimes came by to tinker with a vehicle or two. Bailey suspected he was going crazy at home with nothing to do. However, she couldn’t remember the last time the older man had taken on any paintwork, claiming his less-than-rock-steady hands and less-than-perfect eyesight couldn’t be trusted anymore.

      Bailey flicked the light switch on the wall to see the vehicles more clearly. Checking the work order, she approached the first one. A Toyota Corolla brought in a few days ago by Mrs. Norris. There had been body damage to the left side of her front bumper after she’d hit a newly placed concrete divider in the grocery store parking lot. Inspecting the bumper, she was shocked to see the expert paint job. Doug could claim he wasn’t as good as he used to be, but his work rivaled hers any day. The second vehicle, a Ford Focus that belonged to Dr. Carson, the local pediatrician, was done with the same precision and care. Bailey felt herself relax. One less thing to worry about.

      * * *

      ETHAN STRAINED UNDER the weight of the three cases of beer he balanced on his forearms as he continued to wait in the long line at the liquor depot. The beer-can-shaped clock hanging above the register revealed it was six-thirty. The men would be arriving at the station in less than an hour. The blood pressure and cholesterol screening had gone on past five o’clock, putting them a little behind in their bachelor-party preparations. Each month there seemed to be even more women in Brookhollow coming to the free clinic, and today he’d even caught a few getting in line for a second time in one day.

      He loved his involvement with the local fire hall and its contributions to the town. His father was the head of the police department in Brookhollow, and his older brother, Jim, and he had inherited their dad’s sense of pride and responsibility for the community. As kids they’d spent a lot of time at the police station and the fire hall, learning about the trucks and the duties of the fire chief and crew. As soon as they were old enough, they’d signed on to become firefighters.

      The line moved, creating an empty space on the conveyor belt, just as his grip slipped from the side of his load. That was close. As he set the beer down and rubbed his aching forearms, his eye was caught fleetingly by a blonde disappearing at the far end of the store’s middle aisle. Emily? His mind raced, but his feet remained frozen to the floor as he leaned around the end of the register to try to catch another glimpse. Don’t be ridiculous, he told himself. She’d just called a few hours ago from Miami. Just pay for the beer....

      “Just a second,” he told the clerk as he moved past the other customers waiting in line behind him. “Go ahead and take the next person.” Quickly he made his way toward the center aisle. “Emily?”

      The woman turned immediately and smiled when she saw him. “Ethan, hi. How are you?” Emily’s younger sister Kimberly rushed forward to hug him.

      He swallowed the lump in his throat and wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans before wrapping one arm around her in a brief hug. The sisters wore the same perfume.

      “Hi, Kim. Sorry, I thought you were...”

      “Emily. I know. I’ve been getting that a lot since I highlighted my hair.” She tossed the wavy golden locks over her shoulder. “Sorry,” she said with a sympathetic smile.

      Ethan flinched, hating that look. It had been the only way anyone had looked at him for months after Emily had left, and he’d felt uneasy to be on the receiving end of sympathetic smiles and gossipy whispers.

      “No, don’t apologize. I should have known anyway—Emily always wore her hair straight....” He coughed. Not doing a great job recovering here, man. Get a grip. “Anyway, how is she?” He closed his eyes and shook his head. He was hopeless. “I mean you. How are you?”

      Kimberly gave him a knowing look. “She’s good...I think,” she said with a shrug as she reached for two bottles of merlot from the shelf. “I mean, she hardly calls, but she texts me every few days.... She was just offered a promotion to the senior management team—corporate trainer, I think.” She paused, her expression sheepish. “I’m sorry if all of this is hard to hear.”

      “No,” Ethan lied. Of course he was happy that she was doing well, wasn’t he? “I’m glad she’s

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