Alternate Plans (California Dreamin' Series Book 2) Read online

  “Are you sure this place is still in business?” I asked but the driver didn’t respond.

  The tow truck jerked to a halt on the far side of the building. He threw it in park and I glanced at the garage bay to my right. A shiny black car occupied the space, nose pointing out. I couldn't see the license plate but the car was a black Maxima, dried road mud coated the passenger side headlight and tire. My eyebrows pinched together and I could feel my blood pressure strengthen.

  Definitely the car that soaked me. The black paint showed every drop of dried mud, matching the patchy crud all over my skinny black jeans. While I stared at the car, hoping I would find the owner inside so I could give them a piece of my mind, I pulled my nose up in a snarl. Fixated on the vehicle, I hoisted myself down and out of the truck. I stalked toward the only door I’d seen that looked customer approved while my driver got Betty situated near the front of the garage.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Cooper's Garage didn't have a lobby. Unless a two-foot by three-foot space with one cracked pleather chair in the corner and a countertop under an inch of grease counted as a lobby. I stood at the counter for a moment, listening. It was pin-drop quiet in the building.

  Fear hit me that I was alone. I had no idea what AAA did in that case. Would the driver be nice enough to tow me another five miles for free? I turned around and watched the truck pull back onto the pavement. The tires kicked dirt and rocks back as if the driver tried to peel out. Flying bits of dirt lot made pinging sounds when they hit the decades-old gas pumps. If I was getting any additional help it wouldn’t come from that guy. Just like that, he was long gone.

  I imagined what it would feel like to smack myself for not taking better care of Betty to begin with. It was nobody’s fault but mine that she ended up in an abandoned auto repair facility. I looked on the counter for a bell but no such luck. There was an opening between the lobby area and the garage bay. An old doorframe still occupied the space but the door appeared to be missing for years. I walked towards the space.

  Hinges, covered in a layer of dust and grease thicker than the lobby countertop, sat, abandoned in the doorframe. I wondered if the door had crumbled to dust and the metal pieces left behind were the only things holding up the entire structure. Once more my gaze fell on the Maxima. I scowled at the car in front of me.

  “Hello?” I called out to the empty air in the garage bay. When I didn’t get a response I followed up with “Is anyone here?” a moment later.

  “One second!” I heard a male voice call back from what sounded like the end of a tunnel.

  I turned on my boot heel. Late afternoon sun streamed in through the windows and landed on the seat of the chair. I wanted to warm up and dry off so I made two strides toward the seat.

  “I wouldn't sit there,” the same male voice came from behind me and I spun with a start to face him before he went on, “Not sure those legs are even attached.”

  “Oh, uh, hi I’m Deb. Do you work here?”

  “No, I just run around in this grease monkey suit because I think it's cool.”

  I was taken back for a moment and stunned to silence. His mouth registered a hint of a half smirk. Then, I would swear he winked at me. My face, in turn, made it clear how irritated I was at his sarcasm, no matter how sparkly blue his eyes were. He wrung a scrap rag between his hands, attempting to clean the grease off, I assumed. I glanced at the name embroidered in tight red thread on his jumpsuit.

  “Adam?” I questioned.

  “That’s the name on my uniform,” he replied and tossed the rag onto the countertop.

  “So, AAA dropped my car off, she died, ka-put, no lights or anything,” I rambled, feeling like a total nerd, “I pulled over to, uh, I mean, for a minute and I turned her off and then it wouldn’t turn back on.”

  “Sounds pretty bad.”

  “Yeah. And I'm running really late. Can you take a look at it?”

  “Of course, that's what I do.”

  “Great, I'll just wait here I guess?”

  “For three days?” He asked.

  “Huh?”

  “Well, to be honest we closed a while ago and don't reopen until Monday.”

  “But I need to get to Santa Barbara today.”

  “There's a bus. Stops in town,” he offered, “But I don’t know if you’ll catch another one running until at least tomorrow.”

  “No, you don't understand, I'm running late and have to get down the coast. Tonight.”

  “I do understand. But you need to understand, it sounds like you might need an alternator. Something I’ll have to order. And I have a schedule so I probably couldn’t get to it until Monday morning. The bus is your best option to get out of here tonight.”

  As he spoke, I examined his face. The chiseled set to his jawline matched his clearly stubborn personality. And it looked like he hadn't shaved in two days. Dark brown and scruffy, the hair lined the bottom half of his face except for two empty spots beneath his bottom lip corners.

  My insides responded with a little flutter from deep within my belly. Thirty-six-hour shadow was my weakness. Well, that plus sturdy shoulders, black hair, and blue eyes. All of which were right in front of my face, standing behind the crummy countertop, and telling me that I was stuck. I blinked to remind myself I was supposed to be mad.

  “Okay, then I guess AAA will have to take it somewhere else. To someone who can fix my car today.”

  “Not gonna happen.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “They aren’t a free towing company. AAA won't come back to get you where they just dropped you and your car.”

  He was right. I was stranded. I sighed and turned to glance out the door at my car, held hostage until at least Monday, and felt my shoulders slump forward ever so slightly. No car. Dead cell phone. In the middle of nowhere. Nothing like piling on the drama to an already drama filled week.

  I considered the eighty dollars in my bank account. Not enough to pay for a tow somewhere else. Definitely not enough to get down and back from Santa Barbara on the bus. My emergency credit card was in for a workout. And my stomach turned when I remembered my dad got that bill too. I felt like such a fraud.

  “Is there a car rental place in town?” I asked.

  “Closed. Until—”

  “Monday,” I cut him off, “Yeah. That's about right.”

  “Next closest is fifteen miles away,” he stated, and his eyes darted around the room as if he’d lost something he was desperate to find.

  Adam picked the grease soaked rag back up from the equally scuzzy looking countertop. He proceeded to wring it across his hands again and I wondered why he bothered. The grease stains on both his hands and the rag appeared permanent.

  “Of course it is. Well great. That’s just swell. Guess I’m stuck,” I enunciated each syllable as if sarcasm could change my circumstance then sighed and asked, “Is there a motel or something in Cedar Falls?”

  “Yeah, there’s one.”

  “Okay, then I guess I'll walk into town.”

  “Great, I'll just need the deposit for your car.”

  “What?” I said, feeling tears threaten the surface as I wondered how much more I’d have to deal with before this day was over.

  “Deposit. I have to store your car here all weekend,” he said.

  “That's not my choice,” I said, staunch defiance laced around every word.

  “Unfortunately, you don't really have a choice,” he said as he dropped the rag again, shrugged, and leaned against the doorframe.

  In an instant, my urge to cry was gone. Long gone. Replaced by an unreasonable surge of anger. I crossed my arms over my chest, forcing myself not to charge at him across the greasy counter. I wanted to stuff that rag right into his adorable face.

  “How much?”

  “I don’t know, maybe two hundred,” Adam replied and shrugged one shoulder.

  “Two hundred!” I exclaimed then, “For a deposit?”

  “Oh, no. Two hundred total. Fifty for th
e deposit,” he replied.

  “Let me go get my purse from the car,” I said, feeling defeated but knowing I had no options.

  “Can you make it fast? I'm leaving soon.”

  I actually snorted out a tiny huff as I turned for the door. The nerve! Truly, I'd never been so irritated at another human being. As I turned for the front door, he leaned down against the countertop as if he had no cares in the world. Gee, what a nice guy. Couldn't care less about another human being. I tried hard to push thoughts that it was my fault, for not dealing with the check engine light a month ago, out of my head.

  Yet again, I was about to let my father save me from myself. As I drug my boots across the dirt I wondered why I didn’t let him hook me up with the job he wanted to get me at the firm. I just had to be independent, get my own job without using my name. But I’d let him pay for my car repairs. Fraud.

  As I stomped across the dirt lot to my car, my stomach suddenly hit the ground beneath my Doc Martens. I stopped cold and dust plumed upward then disappeared into the air. Only five feet from the passenger side door, I wished I could join the dirt.

  My purse wasn't in my car. I took it out of the car when the tow driver arrived. My purse was stuck in the gunk of the tow truck floor mat.

  “Shit,” I whispered to myself.

  My eyes flicked to the garage bay. They focused on the small bit of bumper I could see of the Maxima. The stupid puddle car had distracted me. When the tow truck driver pulled in and I saw the car that splashed me, I was too focused on getting revenge to remember my own purse.

  And, of course, the owner was long gone so I couldn’t even yell at them. Instinctively, my hand went up to my head and came to rest on crispy bits of my hair slicked back from the sludge. Now dry after the puddle incident, I shook my hand over the hair to loosen the bangs and bits of nastiness drifted toward the ground. Road dandruff.

  “He'll never believe this,” I said out loud to myself.

  “Believe what?” His voice came from behind me though I hadn't heard him come out of the lobby.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “For the love of,” I paused and turned to look at him, “stop sneaking up on me like that.”

  “Whoa nice hair!” He said, backed up a small step, and chuckled.

  “Um, hello? Rude much?”

  “Sorry, you just look like a different person than you did five minutes ago. And speaking of…”

  He trailed off, apparently looking at me to finish the thought but I was dumbfounded, unable to open my mouth at all. Who the hell did this guy think he was? Insulting me. Being less than helpful. And hot. So hot. Damnit, no, I thought.

  “I just…” I didn't know how to finish the statement, it was my turn to trail off.

  “You were gone a while so I came to see if you bolted.”

  “I came to get my purse.”

  “So you mentioned back inside. And?”

  “Um,” I said and paused, nervous to even admit the truth.

  “Yeah?” He prompted me to go on and shifted his stance to his left leg from his right, hands in his jumpsuit pockets, eyes darting around like he couldn’t hold my stare.

  I dropped my chin and brought my hands up to cover my face, hopeful he wouldn’t hear me say, “my purse is in the tow truck.”

  “Say what?”

  “My purse—”

  “Yeah, I got it,” he cut me off.

  “Oh. Well that's not all. My cell phone is dead. And also in my purse. So I can't even call AAA to have them bring back my stuff,” I said, dropped my hands and looked up at him hoping to find a spark of humanity in his eyes.

  It was his turn to sigh and shake his head back and forth. His crystal blue eyes glanced up and down the road. I imagined he was looking to see if he could find the long-since-gone tow truck on the small stretch of road visible from his garage. We both knew the action was fruitless. Besides, I’d already tried that tactic and it didn’t bring the truck back. His right hand came up to rub across his face.

  I could hear the scratching of his rough hand against the sandpaper of his jawline from feet away. I suddenly wanted to feel that scratchy scruff against my face. My head shook itself ‘no’ as my mind forced my heart to shut up. I needed Betty back on four working wheels. And I needed to get to Santa Barbara. The family was going to freak out if I didn’t show up tonight, they were all expecting me.

  “Come in. You can use the phone in the office.”

  “Really?” I was surprised but hope surged through my gut. Maybe he wasn’t entirely evil.

  “Yeah, well it's a long walk to town and I wouldn't want you to sue me after you get blisters walking all that way in those boots,” he said and pointed at my footwear.

  After he said he'd let me use the phone, I was equally shocked and grateful that he was willing to help. It caught me off guard. I dropped my eyes to my feet and said, “thanks.”

  “Come on,” he said and walked past me to the open garage bay.

  I followed him through the building, realizing nobody but a mechanic should ever set foot in the place. There were tools lined from the front to the back along the entire wall past the Maxima. Every type of shiny and dull metal in a thousand different shapes. Tools on the floor. Rags and stuff everywhere. The place was my general nightmare – zero organization.

  He opened a door on the right at the far end of the bay. It was marked ‘office’ and only accessible from inside the bay. With a gesture indicating I should pass him to enter the room he pointed at the phone on a desk. I nodded a thanks and entered the room. He made some comment about finishing up and that he’d be back soon then closed the door and left me alone.

  I looked around. The space resembled a movie set straight out of the eighties more than an auto shop office. Formerly burnt orange carpet lined the floor. I wondered who came up with that genius idea in a dirt-lot auto shop. A single window sat high on the back wall of the building. I prayed there wasn’t a fire while I was closed in the tiny space. Even my small frame would never fit through that thing as a method of escape. The mustard yellow rotary telephone was the perfect final accessory in the honey-oak paneled room.

  Shaking my head, I picked up the handset and said a little prayer there was a dial tone on the other end. At the droning tone, I dialed the main AAA dispatcher. She let me explain the situation and looked up my account. After I got passed back and forth to a few different supervisors, one of them put me on hold. While some Muzak version of a fifties pop song scratched in my ear, I checked out the office.

  One four-drawer file cabinet and two desks, straight from the movie Working Girl, filled the majority of the room. I saw a nameplate on the desk furthest from me, it read ‘Adam’. That desk was virtually empty. An inbox with one piece of paper graced one front corner and the back of a picture frame sat still on the other corner. My eyes flicked to the door and I thought about the grease stained guy who owned that desk. He obviously spent more time under cars than dealing with paperwork.

  Because, in contrast, the desk beneath the phone was covered in a sea of paper, files, and coffee mugs. I inspected each mug. Stay Cool above a snow man in sunglasses. I don't do morning in a word bubble next to a cartoon of an elderly man holding a coffee cup. World's best Grandpa. I heart you.

  A smiley face on a plain yellow mug rounded out the collection. Each of them contained varying levels of expired, forgotten, jet-black liquid. A few rings showed around the top inside surface of all of the mugs. Marking each gulp of liquid before being abandoned entirely for whatever car emergency needed the big boss.

  Besides the papers, which I didn't snoop into, and the mugs, the only other thing on the desk was a nameplate. Different from the one on Adam’s desk, the surface of the plate was shiny black plastic and the single name, Coop, carved into the plastic revealing white plastic beneath. It balanced precariously inside a wood block with a rough saw mark through the center. The block became a makeshift stand for the nameplate. It was raw but cute, like something a young kid
would make for their parents on Christmas. The thought made me smile.

  I decided this guy Coop must be a decent guy. Messy, but decent. I wondered if he ever experienced when Adam talked to the customers and if he’d be okay with the way his employee talked to me. And I wondered if the guy had an assistant because his desk was a disaster.