DAWN
I hope Max Stinton already has his casket picked out—because I’m sending him to his grave early.
“Where are you going?” I yell at his back as he takes off at a brisk pace behind Hills.
“Stay home and stay off the internet,” Max barks at me.
“What?”
“Hadyn, take her home!” Max growls.
“What’s going on?” I might as well be yelling at a statue because Max charges up the hill without even a glance of acknowledgement. And damn these short legs of mine that can’t catch up to him.
His car chirps when he presses the alarm fob. He slides smoothly into the front seat.
What the heck is going on?
“Hey!” I scramble to catch up.
Max starts the car, his phone pressed to his ear. I’m like a mosquito outside his windshield, mildly annoying but overall insignificant.
Ooh.
His dismissiveness ticks me off.
I glance around for a rock I can throw at his head.
None are around. Unfortunately.
Sweat runs down my cheek. The race car was hot and the helmet did my hair no favors. My afro’s starting to frizz and form a cloud of thick curls around my face.
I stare at Max through the window, waiting for him to wind down the glass and at least explain what the heck is going on. Confusion clamps around my shoulders when he doesn’t. It morphs into fury when he intentionally and ruthlessly pretends I’m not there.
This egotistical maniac.
My mood sours. It’s definitely not helping that he beat me in the race, forcing me to eat my words about being better than him behind the wheel.
Sure, he won fair and square.
But isn’t it a little too rude to run off after taking me to the middle of nowhere so he can drive around instead of mourn his brother’s death like a normal person?
Some of this is my fault. I’m aware of that. I dropped everything and hurried all the way to his office when I heard Trevor was dead because…
Because…
What am I doing right now?
I give the plume of dust a stink eye when I see Hills’s truck take off behind Max’s luxury vehicle. In a second, they’re both tearing out of the parking lot and taking off for the hills.
Gone.
He really ditched me in the middle of nowhere.
That jerkwad. That brainfart. That obnoxious, ginormous prick.
Yes, I’ve definitely crossed the point of no return when I’m inventing stupid and new ways to paint him in my wrath, but I can’t stop myself from dropping to his level. He makes me want to be immature and petty.
Shoes crunch behind me and I spin. Hadyn shucks his helmet off and shakes his head. His shiny hair falls around his broad forehead in perfect strands as if he’s shooting a shampoo commercial.
There’s no denying how gorgeous Hadyn is with his sculpted jaw and glittering chocolate eyes that could compete with flaming supernovas. There’s no denying how that smile of his could melt a woman like a candle.
If I weren’t so ticked off about Max, maybe I would have found myself flattered by the way the flashy playboy prince looks at me.
Unfortunately, Max has struck again and I can think of nothing else but him.
The grumpasourus rex.
Am I still making up stupid names for him that even my seven-year-old would be ashamed of?
Yes, yes I am.
Do I care?
I certainly do not.
A sick part of me wants to tell Hadyn to follow Max’s car. Just so I can see what the fuss is about and let my displeasure be known in person. Would that anger him?
Oh, I hope so.
Just the thought of ticking him off makes my insides curl with delight.
My obsession with beating Max Stinton down to size is almost twisted.
Everything he does annoys me.
For what reason, I don’t even know.
“Guess we should change off now.” Hadyn gestures to the front door of the lounge.
I turn in the opposite direction and stare at the parking lot.
Is something really wrong?
As my adrenaline fades, the doubts flood in.
Max just lost his brother. What if his father collapsed in a fit of shock after hearing the news? What if Trevor died, not of natural causes but of more sinister means, and the police want to investigate his death?
Is Max okay?
The thought tiptoes into my mind and the pulsing concern troubles me.
I’m not feeling sorry for Max.
I wouldn’t ever do that. It’d be like a hostage feeling sorry for her kidnapper.
Stockholm Syndrome is not cute.
But…
And, I mean, this is a big but, he’s going through a shocking family ordeal.
I don’t want to let him off the hook, but I will.
This once.
Releasing a deep breath, I turn to Hadyn. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t want to put you out. I’ll catch a cab.”
“Oh no, Ms. Banner.”
“Call me Dawn.”
“Dawn.” He nods. “Max asked me to take you home.”
“Max Stinton doesn’t control me.”
“I’d like to keep my head on my body and it won’t stay there if he finds out I let you walk.” Hadyn gestures to me. “I’m not a creep. Pinky swear.”
I laugh.
“Besides, it’ll give me a chance to have a chat with you.”
“Uh-oh. A chat about what?”
He smiles secretly and juts his chin at the lounge, an eyebrow slightly raised.
In the changing room, I strip out of the racing suit and shimmy into the jumpsuit, closing the buttons in swift movements. When I emerge, Hadyn is waiting for me. He leads me to the parking lot where an impressive vintage car is gleaming in the sunshine.
I can’t hide my admiration and he notices. “Pretty, right?”
I’ll be honest. I don’t care about money as much as these rich folks, but I wouldn’t mind being able to afford a beauty like this one day.
“You have a name for her too?” I ask.
“Too?” He scratches his chin. Then he brightens. “Oh, you’re talking about Black Beauty?”
“Yup.” I inspect the convertible. She must be powerful under the hood. Is it a V8 engine? My eyes remain on the car and my voice stays hollow in reverence. “I figured naming cars is a rich people thing.”
“No, I think that’s a Max thing.” He laughs. The sound is thick and genuine. But there’s something beneath it too. Steel. Like a beautiful garden covering a nuclear bunker.
A sharpness lurks at the edge of his carefree nature, and it tells me why he and Max can get along. Hadyn might appear to be an irresponsible heir, but his flaming brown eyes tell me that it’s a mask he wears. He could be just as cold and decisive as Stinton once he’s holding court.
I climb into the car and whistle at the restored interior. Whoever brought this baby back to life made sure to use the same materials as the original manufacturer. There’s an attention to detail that hints at more of Hadyn’s serious personality. People who care about being flashy and throwing their wealth around wouldn’t invest in restoring the car with original materials. Most folks wouldn’t be able to tell the difference at first glance, but I can.
And it tells me a lot about him.
My respect for Max’s friend goes up a couple more meters.
Hadyn gives me an expectant look.
At first, I wonder if he’s flirting with me. Then I realize I don’t have my seatbelt on.
“Sorry.” I hurry to fasten it in place.
“No problem.” He pulls on the stick shift. “You’re admiring my baby. You can take all the time you want.”
“It’s gorgeous. You have impeccable taste.”
“I like a woman who appreciates the finer things in life.”
“I don’t think that label applies to me.”
“No?”
“All I know is cars.”
“That was more than enough to get Max’s attention.”
I squirm. Somehow, I knew Hadyn would try to fish around my relationship with Stinton. As if there is a relationship.
Which there isn’t.
Max Stinton is my boss.
My evil overlord.
He’s like that sea witch in The Little Mermaid who took Ariel’s voice in exchange for her legs.
The other end of a bad deal.
Nothing more.
Not even if he makes me shiver when his laser-focused eyes land on my lips for a few breathless seconds.
Not even if his deep and gritty voice makes my heart vibrate like guitar strings—whether he’s growling at me or returning my barbed insults with his own.
Not even if he looks like a descendant of a tall and terrifying Viking with his hard stares and sharp looks that not even his fancy suits and expensive watches can soften.
He drives me insane.
He makes me contemplate murder every three seconds.
He gets under my skin.
… so why is Hadyn looking at me like he knows something I don’t?
It’s annoying.
He’s annoying.
No wonder he and Max get along.
A smile curls his lips when he focuses on the road again. “You think that’s all Max sees when he looks at you? Business?”
“It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?”
“What’s obvious?”
“That he couldn’t care less about people. We’re not human beings to him. We’re just dollar signs and strings he can pull for his own notorious purposes.”
Hadyn throws his head back and laughs. “Okay, I see it now.”
“What?”
“Another reason he’s so intrigued with you. Max turns into putty around brutally honest women.”
I squirm. “It’s not like that.”
“I know exactly what it’s like. You and Max are the only people who seem completely clueless.”
My eyebrows cinch together. “Look, if you knew the full story, you wouldn’t be so smug.”
“And if you knew Max…” He shakes his head. “He doesn’t waste his time doing things he doesn’t want to do.”
“That much you don’t have to tell me.” I’ve seen Max Stinton’s legendary stubbornness with my own eyes. Trying to get him to change his mind is like pushing against a mountain. A total waste of time.
“He loves Stinton Group.” Hadyn’s eyebrows crash low over his sultry brown eyes. “Like an obsessive kind of love that worries me and Vanya. But it’s what makes him happy, so we don’t interfere. Recently, it’s gotten worse. He works non-stop because he doesn’t know how to do anything else. It’s normal for him to lock himself in his office and not leave for weeks.”
I try to picture a disgusting Max Stinton who hasn’t showered and shaved in days. I wait to be repulsed by it, but my stupid imagination can’t even function right.
Instead of seeing a bum with food stuck in his beard and eyes dark with bags, I see a rumpled and disheveled Max Stinton with a glorious five o’clock shadow, sexy arms on display as he rolls the sleeve of his shirt back to reveal manly veins snaking down to his fingers.
“Even when he’s not in the office, he’s always on Stinton Group business.” Hadyn glances in his rearview mirror. “He sleeps, eats and breathes Stinton Group. But that racetrack… it’s the one place that has nothing to do with Stinton Group. It’s the one place Max can detach and relax and forget all the responsibilities crushing him. It’s personal. It’s sacred. He doesn’t bring Stinton Group there. He doesn’t bring anyone he associates with Stinton Group there.”
I swallow hard. “So what?”
“So you’re not just business.” Hadyn arches an eyebrow. “If you were, I guarantee you wouldn’t have set foot on that track today.”
Pressing my cool palms against my overheated cheeks, I force myself to remain objective. Hadyn might not be as cold as Max, but he’s obviously trying to mess with me.
What’s up with these rich guys and terrorizing normal people?
“I don’t know what point you’re trying to make, but I’ve never met the Max that you’re talking about. Around me he’s…”
“Rude? Obnoxious? Demanding?”
“Yes to all the above.”
“The tough guy routine is a total act. He pretends like he never breaks down.” Hadyn rolls his eyes. “Or like he never cares. But that’s not true. He’s just…”
“Just what?” I cross my arms over my chest, waiting to see how he’ll defend Max’s obnoxious habits.
Hadyn digs his fingers into the steering wheel. “He needed something to distract him when his mom died. He thought Stinton Group was all he had, so he gave all of himself to it. The thing with Max is… he throws a hundred and ten percent into the things he cares about. There’s no in-between for him. And the state he was in after she passed… it kind of just ballooned into this hard-core, ‘no one else can get close to me’ routine.”
His words rub softly against my utter distaste for Max Stinton.
It leaves me feeling oddly unbalanced.
Is there a human heart beating under all that evil?
No. There can’t be.
It’s not hard to tell that Hadyn loves Max like a brother. Even if Max did something to disgruntle him, Hadyn is the type who could brush it off. And he’s rich enough that Max can’t push him around by dangling his most precious things as bait.
This is an obviously biased opinion.
I will ignore the pain I feel when I think about Max Stinton losing his mom.
I will not relate that pain to the way my world collapsed when I lost my dad.
Max and I are not the same.
He is not deserving of my sympathy.
I cross my legs and tuck my hair behind my ear. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but there’s not a single part of me that wants to understand Max Stinton. All we have is an employer-employee relationship.” That won’t last long if I have anything to say about it. “I don’t know why he brought me to the racetrack today, but I can assure you it’s not some big sign that he considers me as someone he respects. In fact, just yesterday—”
My phone rings, sparing me from laying out all Max Stinton’s flaws one-by-one like a Power Point presentation on overbearing, cold-hearted CEOs.
I bend low and rummage through my purse for my phone. My movements are urgent and firm.
I used to be the kind of person who’d ignore phone calls, especially when I was working on a car. Once, I missed a call from Beth’s daycare and I swore that would never happen to me again.
“Excuse me,” I tell Hadyn, gesturing to the phone.
He nods and waits for me to accept the call.
I put the device to my ear. “Sunny.”
“Dawn, are you okay? Are you safe?”
“Of course I’m okay.” I glance at Hadyn. He’s big and broad-shouldered, but he doesn’t seem like a threat. Unless he’s one of those gorgeous, Ted-Bundy serial killers. “I’m with a friend.”
“Oh thank God.”
“Why? What happened?” I straighten. “Is it Beth?”
“Dawn, you’re all over the internet.”
I flop back into my seat and groan. “I know.”
I’m banning cell phones at breakfast from now on. I do not want my seven-year-old looking me up on social media first thing in the morning. That can’t be healthy.
“You do?” Sunny hisses. “How are you so calm?”
“Well, I kind of signed up for this.” I blow out a breath. “I mean, I didn’t expect people to act like female mechanics are some kind of endangered unicorn species, but I guess I’m glad that I can inspire someone like me. It makes all the fuss worth it.”
Hadyn smiles.
I smile back.
“No, Dawn. This isn’t the inspirational, ‘yay women’ kind of buzz. This is… this is something else entirely.”
“What are you talking about?” I stiffen, my shoulders slowly hiking to my ears.
Did someone leave a bad comment? I knew naysayers would eventually crawl out of the woodworks to yell about how a woman’s place is in the kitchen. The internet is a breeding ground for people who want to vent their frustrations with their own lives by tearing others down. If men are brave enough to be rude to my face, behind the anonymity of a computer screen, they can turn especially vicious.
Doesn’t matter.
As long as no one threatens my daughter, I can survive anything.
“Girl…” Sunny breathes slowly.
I hear a note of gravity in her voice. It sounds like this call is about more than a few keyboard warriors whining about a woman doing auto repair.
She gasps. “Haven’t you seen Mila DuBois’s video?”
“Mila?” The name trips over my tongue, tickling my brain with a familiarity that I can’t quite reach. Then it hits me. “Oh, the celebrity we did work for today. What about her?”
“She…” Sunny seems to stammer over her own words. “How do you not know? It’s spreading like wildfire.”
“I’ve been, uh, busy this afternoon.” Busy racing a cold-hearted ice king with a penchant for scowls and brash one-liners. “What did Mila say?”
“I’ll send you the video.” She pauses. “Maybe I shouldn’t.”
“Sunny.”
“I’ll do it, but I wouldn’t recommend reading the comments, okay?”
“Okay. Thanks.” My heart is skittering.
What’s the big deal?
Shaking slightly, I click on the link that Sunny shared.
“What’s going on?” Hadyn asks.
“I don’t know. Apparently, something happened with Mila Dubois.”
“The celebrity?”
I nod and focus on the video of the starlet with airbrushed cheekbones and pouty red lips.
Mila stares into the camera. Her voice is high and shrill. “Hey, choo-gums.” She bats crazy-long eyelashes that look like chia pets stuck to her face. “Like, I just had to come on here and tell you guys what happened today.”
A regular social media story time. So far, so good.
“We were on set, right,” she smacks her lips, “and I’d just gotten my car back from the auto shop. I thought my Little Cherry, that’s what I call my convertible, I thought she would be all better, you know? Because I was hearing so many good things about that female mechanic girl and I thought,” she lifts a pale hand, showing off the delicate anchor tattoo on her wrist, “girl power, you know?” Her chuckle is so squishy and plastic that it could probably work as someone’s butt implant. “But here’s the thing guys, Little Cherry gave the same problems when she came back from the shop. She shut down right in the middle of a music video shoot. You’ll never guess where…”
My heart stalls in my chest.
Shut down?
“As it was going over a train track. I’m not even lying, you guys.” She stretches out the ‘guys’ so it sounds like a hiss. “It gave the same problem and then it shut down. Right as a train was coming. So everyone was hurrying to get it out of the way before the train passed. They were trying to push it so the train didn’t… you know. But they couldn’t get it all the way across.” She twirls her hair around her fingers. Her eyes are wide and she seems to be leaning into her story because her expressions are becoming more and more exaggerated. “I’m not even kidding, you guys. There’s, like, footage and everything. They had to run away from Little Cherry when the train came barreling towards it. Which is fine, you know? I wouldn’t want anyone to die or whatever.”
My chest gets tighter and tighter.
I can’t even find her speech funny anymore.
All I can see is that moment in the shop when I told the chief mechanic the transmission wasn’t the problem.
“Yeah, so, I’ll let the footage show you what happened next.” Mila holds up a phone to the camera. Footage of a train crashing into the bumper end of her car fills me with horror. I cover my mouth and lurch back. On the screen, the rear end of her car crumples like an accordion and then goes flying in a circle, nearly mowing down the video equipment set up around it.
“I don’t know what went wrong. We paid for this expensive new car part. It cost, like, thousands of dollars. But I wasn’t cheap about it. I was, like, if it’ll make my car work better, then whatever. But still.” She shakes her head sadly. “They told me this mechanic was legit, but I’m starting to wonder, you know? Because look at my baby? She was fine this morning and now she’s all busted and bruised.” Mila conjures tears on command. They shimmer in her pretty blue eyes and make her look more pitiful than a puppy left out in the rain. “And I’m just so disappointed because all I wanted was for my car to work properly. They didn’t even do that.” The tears start falling faster. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I can talk about this anymore. I’m so upset.” Mila grabs her phone and ends the video abruptly.
“Well that was dramatic,” Hadyn mumbles.
A cold shiver starts at the base of my neck and travels down to my stomach. “Hadyn, take me to the garage.”
“Max asked me to take you home.” He glances at my phone. “And I’m starting to see why. Mila Dubois just turned you into a hot topic. The auto shop will be crawling with tabloids—”
“I don’t care.”
“But—”
“I told you. Max doesn’t control me and the tabloids don’t bother me. Now, either you take me there, or I jump out of this car and take my chances hitchhiking.”
Hadyn studies my face and probably decides that I’m good for the threat because he slams on the brakes and does a U-turn.
I chew on my bottom lip as I replay the footage of the video again. Mila said her car was displaying the same symptoms. It proves that I was right about the transmission. Changing that part didn’t actually fix the conditions that caused the car to shut down.
Anger burns bright and hot in my veins. What if someone had gotten hurt? What if one of the crew members tripped while pushing the broken-down car off the railroad tracks and the train flattened someone’s son or daughter like a pancake?
I don’t know who I should direct this anger to—the chief mechanic who dismissed my words without hesitation or the boss who put that mechanic in charge of the repair in the first place.
Don’t play the blame game, Dawn. You have to solve the problem first.
My phone vibrates.
SUNNY: Is it safe to go home? Do you want to hide out in the farmhouse?
ME: I’m okay. I’m going to the auto shop to see what I can do.
SUNNY: We’ll take care of Beth until you sort this out.
A flood of gratitude nearly drowns me. Sunny and Darrel have been such steady and consistent friends. It almost feels like my daughter’s connection with Bailey allowed me to stumble into a haven of my own.
SUNNY: She can sleep over if she needs to.
SUNNY: Also, Darrel asked if you want us to hire lawyers.
ME: Lawyers?
What would I need lawyers for?
SUNNY: To sue the people making mean comments. Alistair’s got a pack of bloodthirsty ones on speed-dial.
Hadyn clears his throat. “Now might not be the right time to bring this up, but Max is calling.” He nods to his phone that’s sitting in a cradle near his dashboard. “He’s probably checking on you.”
“Don’t answer,” I mumble distractedly as I scroll to the comments under the video.
What I see nearly steals the breath from my lungs.
Let’s cut the brakes on her car and see if she likes that.
Is she even a real mechanic?
Whore.
I knew this was a hoax. Stinton Group pulled the wool on all of us.
This is why I don’t trust women to do a man’s job.
I’m so disappointed. I was really rooting for her.
You think she tried to kill Mila Dubois on purpose?
Ouch.
I’ve never had this kind of animosity pointed at me before. These words are like miniature bombs, exploding all over my face.
Sure, I’ve fought off people’s bad opinions, but I’ve won most of them over with my abilities, if not my tenacity. This is different. This is crueler. This is unfair.
“What are you reading?” Hadyn asks intently.
I dig my fingers into the phone as I wrestle with my emotions.
Being the strong one all the time sucks.
It means I can’t break out into tears when I feel like it.
“I guess you don’t know, but people on the internet can be horrible.” He glances at me. “Vanya’s a plus-sized supermodel. I can’t tell you the number of times people have left nasty comments under her pictures. It’s disgusting. They really say anything about someone they don’t even know.”
“I don’t need your pep talk. I’m fine.”
“Dawn.”
“I’m fine.” I tuck my heartbreak, my fear and the quiet, defensive fury deep inside.
My fingers relax and slide away from the phone.
Fix it first.
I have to put it back together before I can defend myself.
My phone starts ringing.
It’s Stinton.
I reject it right away.
Hadyn notices and frowns at me. “You know you just prodded a bull, right? He’s not going to let up until he hears that you’re fine and you’re away from this mess.”
“What Max Stinton does has nothing to do with me.”
“He’s probably in a rage about this.”
“Of course he is. People are attacking Stinton Group again.”
Hadyn sighs as if he’s completely given up on me.
I don’t care.
I’m already rotating through my solutions.
First things first, I have to find a way to get that car back into my shop.
Mila Dubois just spilled hater-aide all over my professional career, but the world won’t care that I told Henry he was on the wrong track.
Mila didn’t call out Henry.
She called me out.
And since I’m the face of Stinton Auto, everyone’s disappointed.
It can’t end this way.
I have to fight back.
I’ll prove what I can really do.
Hadyn slows the car in front of the auto shop, and I notice the photographers crowded around the garage. Clint and the other mechanics are out there, trying to get them to leave.
Guilt slams me hard in the gut. Most of these guys are hardworking men who just want to bring home a steady paycheck for their families. They didn’t sign up for this circus. They didn’t ask for cameras shoved into their faces, didn’t ask for their lives to be held up to microscopes because of me.
Regret pins me to my seat.
Since I was young, I hated this idea that I was ‘special’. I didn’t want to be treated differently because I’m a woman who loves fixing cars. I wanted men to shrug when they saw me. I wanted customers to take me at my word. To nod and pretend it’s no big deal that I know about carburetors and throttle position sensors.
But I compromised my values. Instead of holding fast to who I am and what I believe, I went down this rabbit hole of propping myself up in the eye of the public.
Now Clint is getting dragged into this mess. All my co-workers are trying to stop reporters from barging into the garage. And the girls who want to be mechanics are going to face another setback because men will be thinking about this scandal when they see a female trying to be taken seriously in the auto-repair world.
Don’t think about it, Dawn. You can’t break down now.
I swallow the tears back and reach for the car handle.
Hadyn frowns. “Dawn, I really don’t suggest you do this. I’ve seen how the paps can be. They’re like sharks smelling blood even with celebrities who have clout. Imagine how cut-throat they’ll be with a normal person.”
I pull the door open.
“Let me take you home.” Hadyn’s voice is dropping to a no-nonsense tone. I bet it’s the kind he uses at work on his subordinates. Or when he’s frustrated about something and he’s tired of being polite. He’s not asking anymore. And, I bet if he knew me better, he’d try to physically hold me back.
“No.”
“Dawn.”
I swear, I see the moment he considers grabbing me. Not sure if he’d be doing it for Stinton’s sake or for mine.
I slide out of his car and sling my purse higher on my shoulder. “Thank you for the ride. And for being my co-driver during the race today. Even though we didn’t win, it was fun.”
His brown eyes implore me to stay and let someone else handle this. Let a man handle this. Let Stinton handle this.
I slam the door and face the reporters.
They haven’t seen me yet, but it’s only a matter of time.
Those cameras—if I get recorded, will they vilify me more? Will they make me out to be someone who lied about my abilities? Someone who would prey on the dreams of little girls who want to work in a field that doesn’t welcome them? Would they call me a hypocrite?
It doesn’t matter, Dawn. Keep walking.
I take one step in front of the other.
Then another.
Then another.
I feel hollowed out.
I’m afraid to keep pushing, but do I have any other choice than to be strong?
“There she is!” A cameraman swerves toward me.
The other journalists jump and focus on me, noticing my slow march up to the garage doors. The mob turns as one, shifting in my direction.
For a moment, no one moves. Then, like an arrow let loose, they shoot toward me, eyes glittering with scandal and lips shooting out questions that collide in a cacophony of noise.
I brace myself, waiting for them to surround me, when something flutters above my head. It’s a jacket. Someone pulls it down to cover my face. At the same time, a hand wraps around mine.
Shocked, I jolt forward.
Then slowly, I glance up and into Max Stinton’s furious face.
He grunts. “Just keep walking, Dawn. I’ve got you.”
