FOUR MONTHS LATER, TWO DAYS BEFORE
CHRISTMAS …
Wyatt looked up from under the dash of Vera Carson’s Olds 442. Sutton paced in front of the closed bay door and peeked through the fogged windows every few seconds. A cold front had moved in, bringing with it a rare chance of snow. Children on both sides of Cottonbloom were hoping for a Christmas miracle.
He was smack dab in the middle of his Christmas miracle. While he and Sutton weren’t officially living together, they hadn’t spent a night apart since the flood. More often than not, they ended up at her house, giving Jackson the run of the loft.
She’d told him she’d loved him so long ago that it was no longer a shock, but still provided a zing to his heart every time she whispered it in his ear at night after they’d made love.
He left the tangle of wires and joined her at the door. A quick check outside revealed a fallow cotton field across the road and no snow.
“Thought you had to work this afternoon,” he said.
“Maggie is covering for me.”
He narrowed his eyes on her, surprised she was skipping out during their busiest time of the year. The sandbagging effort had minimized damage to both sides of Cottonbloom during the rains. The boutique had suffered the worst damage due to its proximity to the river. It had required new carpeting and fresh paint, but had been back in business within two weeks. He knew Sutton was hoping to make up lost profits during the holiday season.
“Did you sit in a mess of fire ants?” he asked after watching her stare outside while shifting back and forth on her feet.
“What?” Her confusion faded into a little laugh. “Ants in my pants? Ha, ha.”
“Are you this excited about the chance of snow? It’ll melt before the sun comes up. Ground’s too warm.”
“I’m not waiting for it to snow.” A secretive smile curled her lips and made her eyes dance. “I’m waiting on your Christmas present.”
“Are you trying to intercept and hide it before I catch a glimpse?” He was too nervous about the present he got her to wonder too much about what she got him.
A ring was burning a hole in his pocket. He couldn’t decide whether to end his torture early and ask her now or wrap it and put it under the small tree they’d decorated together at her house.
“It’s a little too big to fit under the tree, so I might have to give it to you early. Is that okay?”
“Only if I can give you your present early.” The mishmash of nerves and anticipation made him nauseous. Although he was confident about the strength of her feelings, she was supposed to have been getting married to someone else right about now.
But life had a funny way of turning expectations on their head. It was ironic considering how many years he’d been treading water, focused on the garage and nothing else, to have his life change so drastically in such a short amount of time.
One thing was certain, if Wyatt and Sutton ever had kids, they’d have to come up with a different story of how’d they met. He laughed. Well, son, I met your mother when I pulled another woman’s panties from under the seat of her fiancé’s car.
“What’s so funny? Did you get me a gag gift?” she asked.
“Hypothetically, would you be mad if I got you a whoopee cushion?”
A metal trailer clacked as it turned into their parking lot. “Oh my goodness, it’s here.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him through the side door.
The oversized tow truck parked straight on, blocking the view of the flatbed. Shaking his head and wondering what on earth Sutton was up to, Wyatt walked around the cab of the truck. His head grew swimmy, and he touched the fender with a shaky hand to confirm his imagination wasn’t playing tricks on him. A 1970 Plymouth Hemi Barracuda.
It was his car. Not the exact car, of course. That one had long ago been crushed into a cube of metal at the salvage yard, but one so similar, Wyatt felt like he’d reverted into his sixteen-year-old self.
“Where? How?” His mouth seemed capable of uttering only monosyllabic questions, even though a million more complicated ones circled his head.
“We found it in Natchez, Tennessee.”
“We?”
“I knew the make and model, but finding one that wasn’t too expensive, yet wasn’t so far gone to make it worthless was hard. I needed help.” She pointed toward the doorway of the shop. Jackson stood with his shoulder propped against the jamb, a huge smile on his face.
He wanted to go give his brother a hug and a sloppy kiss. He wanted to give Sutton a hug and a less-sloppy kiss. Hell, he even wanted to give the ’Cuda a hug.
He looked from his brother to Sutton to the car and back to the woman who knew everything about him and loved him anyway.
“If you don’t like it—”
“This is amazing. Far and away the best present ever.”
“You don’t mind that she’s a project car?” Sutton laid her hand next to his on the fender and put some tease into her smile.
“She won’t be a project car. She’ll be a labor of love, and I’m never letting her go.”
Sutton’s expression softened. He hoped she understood his clumsy analogy. There was no time to find out. The tow truck driver came around the side with a clipboard of papers for Sutton to sign, breaking their solitude.
Jackson had disappeared. Wyatt would find him later. He didn’t have to tell Jackson how much the gesture meant. Not only the car itself, but the fact his brother had accepted Sutton like a sister, watching out for her and offering help.
Weeks after the fact, Wyatt learned the extent of Jackson’s meddling. Wyatt couldn’t do anything but thank his brother for it. Jackson’s interference had brought him and Sutton back together.
The events of the fall had torn at the fabric of his life, leaving gashes he wasn’t sure anyone could mend. Ford was MIA, the future of his share of the garage in question, but Christmas was upon them, and the aunts at least held out hope he’d limp back home like the prodigal son. Wyatt wasn’t so sure. Mack’s stress level was on simmer, and Wyatt dreaded the day Ford walked back into the shop making demands.
Uncertainty hung over the garage, but the bond between him, Jackson, and Mack had only strengthened through the tribulations. Somehow they would survive. Hopefully, mostly intact.
Although Jackson was being tight-lipped, Wyatt had sensed a dynamic shift between his brother and Willa’s working relationship and not for the better. Asking only sent Jackson further into silence. Wyatt would sit back and observe and meddle as needed. That’s what brothers did.
And Ford … worry warred with fury. Wyatt shook his head. He didn’t want to think about Ford right now. Not with a redo of his past being lowered to the ground and his future standing by his side. Once the tow truck drove off, Wyatt walked around the Barracuda, his mind making lists and cataloguing the tasks.
A look under the hood confirmed his assessment. Jackson had done good. Real good. Yes, it needed work, but the engine would only require an overhaul, not a replacement. He couldn’t wait to get started. Sunday drives down all of Cottonbloom Parish’s back roads would be in the cards by summer.
Sutton had followed him around on his inspection and picked at one of the numerous rusty spots in the paint. That’s what turned most people off, but the outside damage was superficial and easily fixable. It was the inside that counted.
He gripped the cold metal of the hood and turned to Sutton. “Do you want your present now?”
She looked around with a small laugh “Sure. Do you have it stashed in the parking lot?”
“I’ve been walking around with it for two weeks now.” He dropped to one knee and took her hand, fishing around in his pocket.
Her smile faded into shock. Color stained her cheeks, her breaths coming in fast white puffs in the cold air. “You’re not … are you?”
“Will you marry me?” He’d planned to say more, but in that moment, he could barely remember his name. His fingers closed around the ring, and he pulled it out. The cold made him clumsy, and he fumbled the delicate piece of jewelry.
As if in slow motion, he watched it take an unfavorable bounce against the concrete and roll under the car. He dropped her hand and scrambled on all fours. She joined him to peer underneath.
“Gosh, it’s halfway under,” she said.
He stuck a hand out and cast around, blind but knowing he was going to have to shimmy farther under. He got on his belly, but before he could wedge his shoulders underneath, she was already under.
“It’ll be easier for me to reach. You’re too big.” Her voice echoed off the metal undercarriage. “Got it!”
She reversed her crawl and sat up, holding the ring out on her dirty palm. He picked it up with fingers that were now covered in streaks of oil and grease. “This is not how I pictured my proposal going at all. I’m sorry.”
“This is perfect. If you’re still going to ask, that is?” She held out her hand and wiggled her fingers.
“Sutton Mize, would you do me honor of becoming my wife, through sickness and health, rain and sun, good cars and bad, and everything in between?”
“Yes, yes, yes!”
He had just enough time to secure the ring on her finger before she launched herself at him. Both on their knees, they embraced fiercely. Her cheek was cold against his, and something wet registered on his face. Was she crying? He pulled back to see huge wet snowflakes drifting around them.
A stillness and serenity washed over the land and affected him as well. The restlessness that had plagued him for the last year had been soothed and transformed after he’d met her. He was exactly where he was supposed to be.
Right here, right now, Wyatt’s world was perfect. The woman he loved had his ring on her finger and dammed if he’d do anything to give her cause to remove it. Her face tilted to the sky, fat snowflakes gathering in her hair and along her lashes. He leaned in to brush his cold lips across hers.
“Should we go share the news with your brothers?” she asked.
“Nah. I have a better idea.”
“What’s that?”
“I think we should warm up. In bed. Let’s head home.”
Laughing, she grabbed his hand, the icy sparkle on her finger as pretty and unexpectedly beautiful as the snow falling around them.