Becoming Rain (Burying Water #2)(116)

But the day has turned to dusk while I’ve been slaving away. The garage is a lot of work for one guy to run—especially when that one guy never saw himself spending six days a week in a tiny office, listening to broken mufflers and smelling engine oil. But I think I’ve got the place running smoother than Miller ever did.

It’s for the best that he “disappeared” with his wife and daughters. I could never have kept him working here, but I would have felt guilty firing him because of his family. And because, out of all of us, he’s the only one who had a truly redeeming reason for being involved in that world. A world that feels increasingly farther away.

I pick up the newspaper to read the ad I ran for a part-time office manager. It’s been four days and, though I’ve had a lot of applicants, none of them are what I’m looking for. I guess I’m picky. I even tried to get Jesse to come and work for me. He laughed in my face.

A sudden and loud roar of pain has me running toward the bays, hoping to all hell that my employer insurance premiums are paid up.

“Son of a bitch. He bit me!” Tabbs roars. “Get that ugly mutt out of here!”

I round the corner in time to see a little dog square off against Tabbs like a bull, his giant ears turning back and forth like satellites.

My heart stops. If Stanley’s here . . .

“I swear, he never bites.” Rain stands in the bay door, her short black leather jacket zipped up to her chin to ward off the early evening chill.

Her hair’s a few inches shorter than the last time I saw her, a year ago, but otherwise she looks exactly the same.

Beautiful.

And smiling broadly.

I don’t waste a second. I take quick steps toward her and pull her into my arms. She comes willingly, her hands finding their way around my waist. She smells like roses, just like I remember. “What are you doing here?”

She points over her shoulder with her thumb. “I’m having a problem with my clutch. I thought I’d bring it here.”

“Right.” I chuckle and play along, throwing an arm over her shoulder. “Let’s see this car.”

“It’s not so much a car as a Jeep.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” I murmur with awe, circling the matte black beauty. “Solid grill guard, four-inch lift kit . . . what are those, thirty-eights?” Definitely trail tires.

“Would you like some time alone with it?”

I chuckle. Passing the front, I notice the plates are from Oregon. “You rented this?”

“No.”

I frown. “I’d like to think you know better than to steal.”

“Funny.” She pauses. “I bought it.”

My heartbeat speeds up. “Does that mean . . .”

Maybe she sees the excitement in my eyes because she breaks out in a smile. “Portland was my first choice for assignments, and Sinclair pulled some strings to make sure it happened.”

So many thoughts and emotions are racing through me that I’m left with my mouth hanging open, unable to speak. Just staring at her.

“So . . . are you seeing anyone?” She cringes as she says it, offering a very rare and brief glimpse of what Rain looks like when she’s nervous. “I mean . . . what are you doing tonight?”

I can’t help scanning her top-to-bottom—she’s even more fit than she was before. It’s been so freaking long. I’ve gone out on a couple of dates since she left, but none of them came close to holding my interest. And I never knew how to talk about myself, how to let anyone in.

“I thought this couldn’t happen. I mean . . .” I’m nervous too. Or excited. Or petrified that she’s only here to say “hi” because she’s in town.

But, then, why would she ask to be located here?

“How is this happening?”

She reaches out, beckoning my hand. I take it, and then yank her into me, earning her slight gasp. She runs her knuckles against the light stubble along my jaw. “You look different.”

“Yeah . . .” I gaze down at my dark jeans and T-shirt. I’ve kept the Rolex, but only because it’s one of the few things, besides the garage, that I have left from Rust. “I’m living a more simple life.”

“I like it.” Her palm slides along my chest and stomach. My nightly workout routine has only gotten more obsessive since she left.

“Seriously . . . how is this happening? I thought you couldn’t get involved with someone like me.”

“Someone with a beautiful heart? Someone who paid a price for his mistakes?” Her face grows serious. “I know what you did for the Billings family.”

I duck my head, my cheeks burning. “How’d you find out?”

“Because I’m an FBI agent. You can’t hide anything from me. Remember that.” She winks, taking my hands and walking backward, pulling me to the passenger side. “Hey Tabbs! Can you lock up?” she hollers.

“Sure thing, Boss Lady!”

I climb into the passenger seat, Stanley perched on my lap. “I guess I’ll just leave my car here until tomorrow?” I say, hopeful.

She glances at the silver ’74 Porsche 911 that I paid Jesse to fix up for me. I actually love it more than the last one. Probably because I feel like I earned it. “I can drive you, on my way into the office.”