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  CHAPTER 7 – ZYMIR

  When I’d picked her up to take her to my shop, she had changed clothes. Her denim outfit exchanged for a grey, sleeveless tank dress that stopped at her knee. Flowers printed at the hem were the only sign of decoration. And while the dress was simple, it wasn’t.

  I don’t think the woman could wear anything that would make her look simple. The cotton material outlined the shape of her hips and swayed with her when she walked. But that ass. Lord have mercy. Why did such a mean woman have to be blessed with a body like hers?

  The dress clung to her behind in a way that cried out, “Look at me.”

  Karina wore a pair of large, dark sunglasses that prevented me from seeing her eyes. A large floppy straw hat sat on her head, and her bun was gone. Her hair now fell around her shoulder in soft, loose curls.

  The funny thing was, she remained silent on the ride to my shop. I’d tried to engage her in light conversation, but her mood was different. Nothing like she had exhibited before.

  Today, her mood seemed sullen and morose. I could tell there was something on her mind, and rather than forcing conversation, I decided to leave her with her thoughts.

  When we arrived at my shop, she seemed a bit surprised. Although she hadn’t said anything, I could tell that she was pleased with the environment.

  The garage portion was like any other mechanic shop in the country. Full of hard-working men, swearing, crude jokes, and oil and other automotive fluids all over the place. But the waiting area was a comfortable place for clients.

  There were four seating areas in the waiting room with large screen TV’s mounted on the wall of each seating area. We had installed six pub tables with two chairs. Each table included a charging station for the added convenience of working from a phone, tablet, or laptop.

  I understood my clients still had work to do even while they waited. We offered free wi-fi service, and there was a snack area. For a nominal fee, patrons could purchase smoothies, teas, waters, small salads, and healthy snacks. Then, of course, opposite that was the vending machines with the routine junk food in it, such as cookies, chips, and candy. Beside it stood a soda machine.

  We had a small coffee shop with a couple of friendly baristas. The food and coffee areas did pretty well. People loved the idea of having food served to them while they waited. I’d even learned that many people would order food even if the wait wasn’t long.

  Epoxy floors and brick walls gave the space an elegant feel, and we ensured it stayed clean. We had installed several industrial size air diffusers to keep the area airy and pure.

  Despite all that, I knew that wasn’t what impressed her. What I knew impressed her was learning that most of the cars we worked on were foreign, high-end cars. Sure, we serviced American vehicles, but even those were typically luxury vehicles.

  The everyday cars that came in were normally not seeking to be repaired but were coming in for custom designs. A separate garage for custom work sat at the other end of the lot. With the type of money, my clients were investing in those cars; we had to ensure they were well protected.

  “Bossman, you think she’s waited long enough?” Isaiah, one of my mechanics, asked.

  I glanced up from the work I was doing on my laptop and sighed. “What is Ms. Kendricks doing now?”

  He glanced out of the window of my office and leaned slightly to the right.

  “Um...tapping her foot and flipping through another magazine.”

  “Has she said anything to anyone?”

  “Uh, yeah. She came and asked Roberto if she could get her car yet. She said she’d been told that it was ready before she arrived, and she didn’t understand what the misunderstanding was.”

  “Did you all detail the car?”

  “Yes, sir, and the outside is shining like a new baby,” Isaiah replied. “We also changed out the spark plugs, did the oil change, and took care of the other few items you requested.”

  Nodding my head, I said, “Perfect.”

  I scooted my chair back and stood.

  “I’ll handle her. Thanks, Isaiah.”

  “No problem, Bossman,” he said, opening my door and stepping out.

  I waited for a few seconds before following after him. Walking around a partition that was hip height, I was able to get a glimpse of Karina.

  Approaching Karina, I held my breath for what I knew was sure to come. She always had a tongue lashing ready to give to me, and I couldn’t imagine that this time would be any different. Especially considering she had been waiting for more than half an hour.

  “Karina,” I called softly.

  Her head jerked up, and her eyebrows dipped down in frustration. I was surprised that she had finally removed those sunglasses she wore.

  Before we left her house, she had donned them and insisted on wearing them even while we were inside. I wasn’t certain what that was about.

  “Jamir, I thought you said that my car was ready before my arrival,” she hissed, looking around at the other patrons.

  It was odd because no one was paying us attention. Sure, I’d gotten the occasional glance when I walked into the waiting area, but most of the people knew me and were familiar with me. It wasn’t as if I were some celebrity, despite the fact I often worked with celebrities and other notable members of society.

  “It was. But, there were a few other items that I wanted addressed before we released it.”

  “What other items?” she asked, standing.

  “Come with me; I will show you.”

  She followed me out of the waiting room and into the garage. The men instantly toned down their language as they gave me a head nod and smiled widely at her.

  “You still haven’t told me how much it will cost. And now you’ve added something on to it. How do you know if I can afford it?” Karina complained.

  “What did I tell you when I arrived at your house yesterday morning to pick up your car?”

  “Not to worry about it, that your cost would come in much less than the quotes I’d received.”

  When she had initially shared those quotes with me, I couldn’t help but wonder why they were so steep. This wasn’t a case of a mechanic taking advantage of a customer because they were a woman. There was something else to it, but I wasn’t certain what.

  Perhaps, she had pissed someone else off with that foul mouth of hers, and they’d upped the rate. That was the only thing that could explain it. However, I didn’t operate my business that way. If the customer was not agreeable, then there was no business to be performed. It was as simple as that.

  “And that is my promise.”

  Just before we rounded the corner of the garage to her car, she stopped briefly.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Yes, yes, it is.”

  “Okay,” I said, as I pulled the door open to where we held cars ready to be released.

  She stopped again, and her jaw dropped.

  “Is that my baby?” she asked, pointing at her car before her hands flew to her mouth.

  “Yes, that is your car, Miss Karina.”

  She quickened her steps. Stopping at the hood, she ran a loving hand down the car and walked to the passenger side.

  “Check out the inside,” I said.

  When she looked up at me again, there was a slight gleam in her eyes before she turned away. I walked to the driver’s side and opened the door so that I could pop the hood.

  “Come here,” I called to her when I walked back to the front of the car.

  She came to my side and watched as I pointed out everything we had done, including changing the spark plugs, the oil, and air filters.

  “How much do I owe you?” she asked, frowning.

  I shook my head and extended my hand. “A simple thank you will do.”

  When Karina took my hand in hers, I was surprised by the tingle I felt. I was sure she must have felt it, too, because she snatched her h
and away quickly.

  “Wait, are you saying that I owe you nothing?”

  “No. I said you owe me a ‘thank you.’”

  “I’m talking about money.”

  “No money, Miss Karina.”

  She shook her head. “But you guys did all of this. I can’t accept it as a gift.”

  “It is not a gift. It is called being ‘neighborly,’ Miss Karina.”

  There was a slight intake of breath before she looked away again. Inhaling, she turned back to me and muttered a soft, “Thank you.”

  Did it hurt the woman that much to be kind to me? I could not understand it. That was her issue to deal with and not mine.

  “You’re welcome. Here are your keys,” I said, handing the keys to her that had been brought to me earlier. “If you have any questions, feel free to drop by and let us know. But in the meantime, you have a great day, Miss Karina.”

  Before she could speak another word, I turned and quickly left the shop. Despite the attitude she held, it seemed as if she were on the verge of crying. And none of that made sense to me. The last thing I wanted to be privy to was her tears.

  That might give her another reason to target her anger my way. And I wasn’t sure if I could handle any more of what Karina Kendricks had to toss my way.

  CHAPTER 8 – KARINA

  Luis Kendrick. Thirty-nine. IT Director. Son. Brother. Uncle. Husband. Lover. Amazing Friend.

  Those were just a few words, but none of them could describe who and what he was to me. I sat on my king-sized bed that I just couldn’t bring myself to get rid of and held his picture in my hands. We had built a life together.

  Ten years of marriage, and he was gone. Just like that. Luis was my rock when we learned that I couldn’t have children, and I almost fell apart. He’d been patient with me while I shunned the idea of adoption. But when I decided that I was ready to adopt, Luis had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer.

  My love, my friend, my husband, was gone within two years. It was the same year that my parents died in the house fire, but earlier that year.

  Three years later and I was still loving him and still hurting over his loss. When visitors came to my house, they no longer saw his pictures or anything that would remind them of him. But stepping into my bedroom was like stepping into a shrine dedicated to him.

  I hadn’t gotten rid of his clothes, shoes, cologne, or even his partially used deodorant. Pictures of him still hung in my room, and the pictures that had been in the rest of the house were now in a box in the back of our walk-in closet. His jewelry still rested in his jewelry box, and his watch still lay on the nightstand on his side of the bed where he’d left it.

  It had been hard watching him waste away. Despite his arguments, after we had spent every dime of our savings on his medical expenses, I had sold my restaurant. We needed the money, and it wasn’t a major issue for me to get rid of it. I wanted nothing to do with cooking and the restaurant if I couldn’t have him. After all, he’d worked hard to help me start my restaurant.

  Before my husband’s illness, I had owned a French cuisine five-star restaurant, Level 51. But once he became sick, my heart was no longer concerned with anything other than him. I wanted to spend every moment of our lives together, and my desire to cook and create had dwindled to nothing.

  The last day of his life, Luis had made me promise that I would return to cooking. He’d said it was my life’s work and the beat of my heart. No matter how much I insisted I didn’t want to, he persisted that I had to promise him that I would. And so I promised.

  It took a month before I was able even to consider fulfilling that promise. And when I did, I cooked for a week straight, day and night. I took the meals to the homes of my family and friends. Then I calmed down when I realized I had no one to give all that food to anymore. Everyone was overwhelmed with all the food I brought to their home.

  When my parents died in a house fire in October of the same year my husband passed, I stopped cooking again. It took me four months to resume cooking, and only after Lori reminded me of my promise to Luis again.

  This time when I resumed cooking, I found solace in it. I looked forward to trying out new recipes and inventing some I had never heard before. Lori had been at my house one day watching me prepare a meal, and she started recording me so that she could recreate it for her husband when she returned home.

  That night before she had left my home, she suggested creating a YouTube page for me. She thought it would be nice if I could start an online cooking show. At first, I resisted the idea, but the more she and Rhonda pressed it on me over the next week, the more I warmed up to the idea.

  Lori created my page a couple of weeks later, and things took off from there. The YouTube channel wasn’t about paying bills or making a living. It was all about being the best me that I could be while fulfilling a promise to my late husband.

  With Luis’ passing, I had received a princely sum of money from his life insurance policy. The YouTube earnings of one point two million dollars each year was nice, but I wasn’t in need. That’s why it was easy to turn and walk away from the table of having my cable show.

  My fingers traced the outline of Luis’ handsome face on the picture. It was one that we took when we had gone rock climbing in Arizona. Another couple had taken the picture after we’d finished our climb.

  A single tear dropped from my eye and fell onto the glass frame. I swiped it away and sighed.

  Today wasn’t a special day. There was nothing more significant about this day than any other. When Luis had become sick, I had sold my car. But we hadn’t sold his Mercedes because I knew that was a treasured possession of his. When he encouraged me to get rid of it, I stood firm on my resolute “no.”

  That’s why the precious car meant so much to me now. Not because I was a material person, but because it belonged to Luis, and I knew what that car meant to him.

  Now, here was Zymir coming along and taking excellent care of the car the way Luis once had. He always had kept that car washed and detailed and ensured that it was in optimal running condition. I had done my best to keep up with that after Luis passed, but I hadn’t done an excellent job of it.

  It had been difficult to stifle my tears today in front of the man. I couldn’t explain why I had become so emotional over a simple act of kindness. And he had blown me away by insisting that I didn’t need to pay for the repairs.

  I needed to find a way to repay him for what he had done. What a humbling experience. The wall that I had erected around my heart had to shift somewhat, just enough for me to do something kind in return.

  Truthfully, no matter what I contrived as a repayment, it couldn’t ever repay what Zymir had done for me. But even that wasn’t the confusing part.

  The confusing part had been when he shook my hand. I was baffled that a mechanic would have hands as smooth as Zymir’s. But regardless of how smooth they were, that did nothing to stifle the feeling of awareness that shot through me when he touched my hand.

  Awareness of his masculinity, of how little my hand was in his, and how feminine I felt at the moment. And sensual, too. Very sensual, and every nerve in my body seemed to awaken.

  That pissed me off. It was as if it were the ultimate betrayal of Luis. It had only been three years since he was gone, and here I was already reacting to some other man.

  A man that was no more than a boy, really.

  If it had to happen, why with him? Why couldn’t it have been with someone else who I didn’t have disdain for?

  But even that caused me to question why did I feel the way that I did about him.

  I didn’t know Zymir nor anything about his family. We had never interacted before the day he came to check on my car. At least not anything more than him waving at me, and me ignoring him. He had done nothing to me. But for some reason, I seemed to despise the man’s very existence.

  Sure, he sometimes played loud music when coming or going from his house, but not that often. And yes, he did have
those dreadful tattoos, and horrific dreadlocks in his head, but that didn’t mean he would create harm or come in and steal anything from my neighbors or me.

  He didn’t have to.

  That was another shocking discovery I’d had about him today. While I was so busily trying to conceal my identity because he didn’t know who I was, he hadn’t shared his either.

  Zymir Espinola was “Spin” of Spinz Custom Auto Designs. It hadn’t hit me when we’d first pulled up to his shop, and it hadn’t hit me when I walked inside either.

  I had been sitting for almost twenty minutes when I’d picked up a magazine and idly began flipping through it. Zymir was featured in three of the top auto magazines, one after the other. Car and Driver, Popular Mechanics, and Road & Track. There had been stories about his shops in Atlanta, L.A., and here at home in Summer Cove, which appeared to be his original. I’d read an interview in one of the magazines, and that’s when I’d learned he had plans on opening one in Chicago next year.

  The man was wealthy in his own right, and he didn’t need a single dime from me. So as far as him taking advantage of me in any form, no worries there.

  Zymir was a well-respected man in the industry and a very private man despite his popularity, which led him to shun an offer to have a reality show. I had heard Luis mention the shop in the past with something akin to reverence.

  How had I so easily broken him down to nothing more than a thug?

  Okay, so he was young, and he had the tattoos and dreads, but he had his head on straight. He was a businessman, something I could respect.

  Shaking my head, I looked down at Luis’ picture again, decided I needed to repay Zymir, and push him out of my head for good.

  CHAPTER 9 – ZYMIR

  I was working in my office when I heard a light tapping on the glass door. Pulling my gaze from my monitor, I glanced up and lifted an eyebrow in surprise at my visitor.

  Standing from my chair, I motioned for her to come in as I walked from behind my desk.