3 LUKE“Morning, Wayne,” I said as I stepped inside the repair shop bright and early Monday morning, greeting the old bastard with as much enthusiasm as I could muster. I knew he was about to screw me on the price of a new hose for the Chevy. The truck had been in my family for two generations now, and she was showing her age.
“Where ya been?” he asked, pulling his head out from under the hood of a fancy foreign car. “I’ve had your part waiting since Friday.”
Sleek lines, perfect curves . . . the car had to be Charlotte’s. The brazen little minx had been on my mind since my run-in with her yesterday. Wanting to avoid a repeat performance, I came to the garage early to pick up my part since I didn’t peg her as an early riser.
“I got tied up with a leak in one of the drums,” I told him. “T
