Drive Me Wild (Bellamy Creek #1)(16)

Maybe he was just having a bad day. Maybe the call from the bank had been bad news. Maybe Andy was always slacking off and needed to be kept on task.

Bottom line, he was the closest thing I had to a friend in my new life so far. And friendship took patience and understanding.

By one o’clock my stomach was growling, and I decided I’d offer an olive branch in the form of lunch. Maybe I could bring him a sandwich or something—I’d seen a little place called Main Street Delicatessen while walking back from the diner this morning. I was just about to get up from the desk and go ask what he’d like when the phone rang again.

I picked it up. “Good afternoon, Bellamy Creek Garage.”

“Hello, Lanette?” said the woman loudly. “It’s Doris Applebee.” Right away I had the feeling she was older and hard of hearing, so I spoke up.

“Lanette isn’t here today, Mrs. Applebee. This is Blair.”

“Oh, hello there! You must be the lucky lady. I heard the big news this morning—congratulations!”

“Thank you,” I said, although I had no idea what she was talking about. “Can I help you?”

“Well, I don’t know,” she went on. “My car is making that noise again.”

As I was picking up a pen to take notes, I saw Griffin open the lobby door and lean against the frame. We made eye contact, and my stomach flip-flopped, but his expression revealed nothing. “What kind of noise, Mrs. Applebee? Can you describe it?”

“You know. The noise. The same one it always makes. The clunk-clunk noise.”

“The clunk-clunk noise?” I frowned and wrote down Doris Applebee, clunk noise. As I did so, Griffin started mouthing something at me.

“Yes. I remember Griffin fixed it for me last time,” Mrs. Applebee said, “but I can’t recall exactly what the problem was. He was so sweet, he didn’t even charge me.”

“I’m sure he can fix it again.”

Griffin was still trying to tell me something, but I frowned at him and held up one finger.

“Mrs. Applebee, could you hold on for just one second, please?”

“Certainly, dear.”

I covered the mouthpiece of the phone and whispered, “What?”

“It’s her bowling ball,” said Griffin wryly, something close to a smile on his face. “She goes bowling with a bunch of old ladies on Tuesday nights and sometimes forgets to take the ball out of the trunk.”

“Seriously?”

He nodded. “I guarantee it.”

I uncovered the mouthpiece. “Mrs. Applebee? Griffin is here, and he wonders if it’s possible you forgot to take your bowling ball out of the trunk?”

In the silence, Griffin’s eyes held mine, and for a second I couldn’t catch my breath.

And then in my ear, “Oh, my stars, that’s right! That’s what the noise was last time! Heavens to Betsy, if my head wasn’t attached to my neck, I’d probably forget that too. That’s what happens when you’re eighty.”

I laughed. “We all forget things sometimes.”

“Well, you tell Griffin I’m going to bring him some nice cookies this week.”

“I will.”

“And make sure he shares them with you. How lovely he’s finally found a bride!”

I glanced up sharply at him. “Um . . .”

“He was my student, you know. Tenth grade English. He sat in the back row and he was always late, but he was always so apologetic about it, I could never be mad at him. Plus, he used to fix my broken pencil sharpener for me all the time. He was so handy!” She laughed. “You’ll appreciate that around the house, I’m sure.”

I thought about correcting her on the whole bride thing, but she was eighty years old and obviously confused, so I didn’t think it would be worth it. “Yes,” I said. “Well, have a nice day.”

“You too, dear. Thank you again.”

I hung up the phone, tossed the note I’d written about the clunk-clunk noise in the trash, and looked over at Griffin. He was back to leaning on the door frame again, arms crossed. “I take it she’s a frequent customer.”

“She is.”

“She says she’s going to bring you some nice cookies this week.”

“She’ll forget.”

I smiled. “She also mentioned tenth grade English class.”

“She was my teacher. Funny how she could probably name every kid in that class from sixteen years ago, but she can’t remember to take her bowling ball out of the trunk.”

I smiled. “For some reason, she thinks we’re married.”

He groaned, his expression pained. “Jesus. I really hope that rumor is not going around.”

“She was probably just confused. She’s eighty, after all.” Taking a deep breath, I put the pen down and tightened my ponytail. “So I was just about to ask you—”

But at the same time, he spoke up too. “Look, I wanted to apologize for—”

We both stopped. Our eyes met, and my heart skipped a beat.

“Sorry,” he said. “What did you want to ask me?”

“Just, um, about lunch. I was going to ask you if you wanted me to go get sandwiches or something?”

“Oh. Sure.” He came off the door frame and moved toward the desk, putting both hands on the counter. “Listen, I’m sorry about earlier. I was pissed about something and I took it out on you.”