Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
“You certainly grill me,” I retorted.
“You have no idea how much I want to grill you.” He scowled, trying not to laugh.
That was what I needed. His gruff words, his closeness, even for a moment. Without thinking, I looped my arms around his waist and hugged him. For a moment, he was stiff with shock, then he wrapped one arm around me, holding me close. His voice was quiet when he spoke, filled with a gentleness I wasn’t used to hearing.
“Charly, what’s wrong?”
I pulled back and ducked under his arm. “Nothing. I just needed a hug. Now get out so I can put away the groceries and enjoy the rest of my day off, gosh dang it.” I wagged my finger at him. “Dinner better be good.”
He was quiet, then nodded. “It will be. Your reasons for that new website better be good as well.”
“Don’t worry, Maxx. I won’t disappoint.”
He turned and left, muttering. I thought he said, “You never do,” but I could have been mistaken. After all, that would be a compliment, and Maxx had reached his limit on those yesterday.
Surely, I couldn’t expect them two days in a row.
I headed upstairs to change out of my dirty jeans, wash my face, and get ready to face him and his attitude after dinner.
MAXX
Something was up with Charly, but what, I didn’t know. She seemed anxious. Maybe it was having to talk about the website and the new logo she had come up with. Except her unexpected hug made me think it was something else.
It was as if she was seeking shelter for a moment. It made me feel odd and somewhat angry. What had occurred that she needed to feel safe?
I watched her during dinner. She seemed fine, and I relaxed. Women were a strange lot, and I never thought I understood them. Perhaps she had been having a bad day and needed a hug. My dad used to hug my mom close if she was upset or having a difficult day. “Come along, sweetheart. I got you,” he would croon as he rocked her. “Let the day go. Just let it go.”
My question was—what made Charly have a bad day? That question lingered in my head, making me restless and a little edgy. The fact that it bothered me at all made me even edgier.
Brett and I cleared the table, then Brett left to go pick up more of his stuff from his dad’s place, leaving Charly and me alone. He clapped my shoulder before he left.
“She has some great ideas. Listen to her.”
She set her laptop on the table and opened it. “Dinner was great. And not doing the dishes was a treat. Is that going to happen all the time?” she teased.
“Nope. Don’t get used to it.”
She sighed dramatically. “Fine.”
She tapped some keys and showed me the new website. It was bright, bold, and clear. The new logo she had designed was featured on each page. She even had a history of the garage, and there were pages about the restoration side as well as the services offered.
“You have very few women clients,” she informed me.
“We have a couple,” I argued.
“You should have more. There is a huge untapped potential for business. I looked around in Lomand and Littleburn. Hundreds of women drive cars and trucks, even motorcycles, but where do they have them serviced?”
I scratched my beard. “No idea.”
“We want them coming here.” She pulled in a long inhale of air. “For most women, going to a garage is overwhelming. It’s a language many of us don’t understand. Our vehicle doesn’t work right, but often a mechanic doesn’t really listen since we don’t speak ‘car.’” She paused. “Even if we do, often we aren’t listened to because of our gender.”
“I don’t treat my woman customers that way.”
“Exactly. So, we need to get the word out that Reynolds Restorations and Repairs is different.”
“How do you want to do that?” I crossed my arms over my chest. “And why did you add repairs?”
“I added ‘repairs’ so people know you do more than restorations. I will mention you’re a full-service garage in all the ads and marketing. As for getting the word out—some basic classes. Teach women how to speak car. What the parts are. How they work.” She held up her hand before I could speak. “If I get how something works, then I understand it better. I feel more comfortable asking questions. I’m not talking in-depth, do-your-own repairs, Maxx. Simple one-hour classes offered every month—free of charge. Brett says he’s happy to do some.”
“I don’t want to have to corral a bunch of women in the garage. They’d all be talking and comparing lipsticks instead of listening,” I groused, imagining the scene.
“You just love to chap my ass, don’t you? I thought this through. We’ll keep it limited—more exclusive. Before you know it, we’ll have a waiting list.”