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Mitch had owned the garage as long as Caleb could remember. He’d sold Caleb his first car, the car that Caleb had written off within a week, much to Mitch’s amusement and his Dad’s incredulity.
“I picked up that clunker like you asked me.” Mitch acknowledged Grace with a tug of his baseball hat, then beckoned for them to follow him back outside.
Grace went ahead of Caleb, her long legs drawing his attention.
Mitch leaned against the gleaming hood of his tow truck. “Your car, Miss?”
“Yes.” Grace took a step toward her car. “Is it bad? Can you fix it today?”
Mitch sucked air through his teeth and snorted. “Not gonna lie. It’s not great.” He pointed to the skewed front axle with a wrench he dug out from a deep pocket. “You took a beating out there. The front axle’s seen better days, I’ll tell ya. Gonna need some new parts, and those don’t exactly grow on trees around here.”
Grace pressed her lips together and blinked.
“How long are we talking about?” Caleb scuffed gritty snow with his boots.
Mitch scratched his beard, considering. “I’ve got to order in the parts. Takes a bit, especially with the weather delays we’ve been having. I’d say give me a few days. Gotta make sure it’s fixed up right. Wouldn’t want you out there with a half-baked repair in this weather.”
“A few days.” Grace made a poor job of hiding the exasperation in her voice. “How much?”
Mitch hooked his thumbs inside the front zip of his coveralls and cleared his throat. “Okay… the cost. It’s gonna run a bit steep. Parts and labor, you know how it goes.”
Grace’s brow furrowed, and Caleb had the crazy urge to kiss the lines away with his lips. “How much are we talking?” he asked.
“I can’t say until I’ve ordered the parts, but at least three hundred dollars.”
Grace’s intake of breath was sharp. “Three hundred? I don’t have?—”
“Order what you need, Mitch.” Caleb sensed Grace’s attention burning holes in his back.
She spluttered. “What no?—”
Caleb took hold of her arm and wheeled her away so their backs were to Mitch. “You need your car fixed?”
“Yes, but?—”
Caleb squeezed her shoulder, unable to avoid noticing how fragile her slight frame felt beneath her clothes. “We’ll work something out. Maybe set up a payment plan if that makes you happy, okay? But let’s just get the car fixed. You’re not the first one to find themselves in a tight spot. We’re a community here. We look out for each other.”
“You don’t have to do this.” A mixture of gratitude and anxiety played across her features.
“That’s where you’re wrong. This is what I do. I help people.” He spread his hands. “It’s my job.”
“Of course …it’s your job.” The light dimmed in her eyes.
Why the fuck did I say that? Shit.
He pinched the skin across the bridge of his nose, gathering himself, trying to mask his inner turmoil. “Go ahead with ordering the parts, Mitch. Let me know when it’s all sorted.”
“Will do, Meyer.” Mitch pointed to the tow truck cab. “Help yourself if you need anything out of the car.” He hurried back into the warmth of the garage.
Caleb boosted up on the flatbed and retrieved Grace’s thin raincoat. The woman was so gloriously unprepared for Alaska, it bordered on the insane.
He jumped down and handed her the raincoat. “You travel light. Most women I know, my sister included, would have several suitcases back there.”
She shot him a tight smile. Nothing more. Whatever secret she harbored, she wasn’t for letting him in.
Not yet anyway.
13
