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“You’re welcome to park in the driveway, next to my car,” Kathy told her. “There’s plenty of room.” She paused. “Oh, wait. You said you were moving to Seattle, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Then, your truck is probably filled with all your belongings. Would you like to store them in the garage until you’re ready to move on?”

“That would be very nice. Thank you.”

“I’ll open it right now so you can sort what you want to take upstairs and what you want to keep in the garage.” She led the way outside and unlocked the side door. “Please excuse the mess.”

Shaye followed her inside the detached garage. When Kathy turned on the light, Shaye prepared herself for the usual garage clutter—boxes, lawn supplies, maybe some old furniture. What she wasn’t expecting was to find a car—or at least all the pieces of a car—scattered around.

From what she could tell, the bodywork was finished, and the seats were covered in plastic and up against the back wall. The engine was strewn about in a few hundred pieces, and based on the condition, it hadn’t been touched. But the rest of the vehicle was nearly finished.

She took in the lines, the shape of the back end and then spotted the familiar logo.

“It’s a Mustang convertible,” she said, pressing a hand to her chest. “A sixty-nine. No, a sixty-eight. She’s going to be a beauty.”

Kathy stared at her in surprise. “You know cars.”

“I used to work on them with my dad.” She circled around the chassis, thinking how much her father would have loved to work on this car. “Nothing this nice.” She smiled. “They can be a little pricey for a hobby. But my dad always talked about how we’d fix one up someday. Are you doing the restoration?”

“Goodness, no. This was Douglas’s project.” Her expression turned wistful. “He was going to have it done in time for the classic car show a couple of years ago. There’s a parade, and she was going to be one of the stars. But then he passed away, and here she sits. I should go talk to someone about fixing her up and selling her.”

“Not before you get to ride in the parade,” Shaye told her. “You have to do that.” She looked at the pieces. “I think the bodywork is all done. The upholstery is finished.” She continued to walk around the car. “Look, the dash is ready. From what I can tell, the engine needs to be rebuilt, and then the whole thing gets put back together and painted. It’s not a lot of work.”

She drew in a breath. “I could do it.” She paused. “I know I could handle the engine. I’ve rebuilt them before. It’s just a matter of cleaning it up and replacing a few parts, then putting it all back together. I might need some help with the assembly, but I’m sure I could ask around and find someone if I get into trouble.”

Lawson came immediately to mind, but she ignored that. “My job with Judy’s Hand Pies is only four hours a day. I’ll have plenty of time.”

Kathy smiled at her. “You don’t have to convince me, Shaye. I’m more concerned I would be taking advantage of you. I’d want you to let me pay you.”

“No, but you can pay for the parts, and the paint is going to be pricey. I’d really like to do this.” She shrugged. “I lost my dad a while back. I’d like to do this for him. I think that would make him happy. I promise, if I get in over my head, I’ll ask for help.”

“All right. You do what you can. I have an account at a local auto-repair shop. Buy what you need, and have them charge it to me. If you change your mind about the rebuild and don’t want to finish, it’s perfectly fine. At this point, anything would help.”

“Thank you.”

Shaye looked at the car and felt a flicker of anticipation. She knew it was silly, but she couldn’t escape the sense that if she got things right with the car, somehow she would get things right with herself. Once that was done, she would be free to start over and find a new life in Seattle.

Shaye told herself there was no reason to be nervous. The fact that her landlord happened to have an account at Wishing Tree Auto Repair made sense, and the fact that Shaye needed to go there for parts was just a coincidence. She was a customer, nothing more. She was going to rebuild the Mustang’s carburetor, and for that she needed a rebuild kit.

She’d spent a couple of hours the previous afternoon figuring out what was done on the car and what wasn’t. Her initial assessment had turned out to be correct. The two big projects were going to be building the engine, followed by putting the car back together. The hard work had already been completed.

So at eight thirty in the morning, she found herself parking in front of the auto-parts store, trying not to hyperventilate. Anticipation and butterflies danced together in her stomach. She felt queasy and excited and worried all at the same time. Ridiculous emotions, considering she barely knew the guy, and so what if she was going to see him again? It wasn’t as if she was stalking him. Besides, he’d said something about the auto repair side of things. She probably wasn’t going to see him at all. She would go inside, buy what she needed and be gone before he ever knew she was there.

Only she didn’t want to not see him. She’d liked him and had enjoyed his company. Last night, after getting herself settled in her beautiful room, she’d sat in front of the pretty fireplace and had replayed their time together. Hanging out with him again would be nice.

She got out of her truck and started for the store. She wasn’t going to think about Lawson, she told herself. If she saw him, great. If she didn’t, no big deal. She was in town for nearly a month, she reminded herself as she walked into the store. If she was still thinking about him in a couple of days, she would come back and ask if he was—

“Shaye?”

She came to a stop halfway down the aisle. Lawson stood not six feet away, looking really, really good. He had on jeans and work boots, along with a short-sleeved shirt with the company logo on the pocket. His dark eyes were wide with surprise and pleasure. The kind of pleasure that filled her with a happy little glow.

“What are you doing here?”

“I, uh . . .”

She really hadn’t thought she would see him, so she hadn’t planned what to say.