Love Gifts

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

LOVE GIFTS

First edition. April 17, 2018.

Copyright © 2018 Lisa Ballenger.

Written by Lisa Ballenger.

Also by Lisa Ballenger

A Home for my Heart

Do Not Disturb

Follow Your Dreams

Love Gifts

LOVE GIFTS

By Lisa Ballenger

TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Epilogue

CHAPTER ONE

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Lauren Clark paused to admire the man bent under the hood of the red convertible. His bass voice sang along with Mick Jagger, muscular legs in faded jeans moved in rhythm with the beat.

The rock and roll music drowned the crunch of her shoes on the gravel drive as she walked closer. Leaning over the car engine next to him, she tapped his tanned arm.

A wrench bounced on the carburetor as he jerked around, his green eyes a few inches from her face. Mercy. Where did you come from?

She followed him out from under the hood. Didn’t mean to startle you, I-

Wait a second. He stopped her with a greasy finger in the air. Grabbing a clean rag from a shelf, he turned the volume of the Rolling Stones down to a low rumble. Bad habit. He smiled, leisurely wiping his hands on the cloth.

The navy t-shirt revealed enough of his arms to guarantee well-developed biceps barely hidden under the thin cotton. Black curly hair and six feet tall she expected from Bill’s description. The model body? A pleasant surprise.

What bad habit? The loud music? She nodded toward the oversized speakers hanging in the doorway. Or the singing so loud you don’t hear customers come up?

Oooh. Sorry about that.

Lauren smiled. It wasn’t bad.

You’re just being polite. I know what I sound like. He tossed the rag into a wire basket behind him. What can I do for you?

She pointed to the white wooden sign at the end of the drive.  A fancy script publicized ‘Classic Car Restorations’, the address and phone number. Do you restore anything besides cars?

What’d you have in mind? He craned his head around her, focusing on her Jeep at the curb. Not that Wrangler?

Very funny. She started to defend the ancient Jeep but stopped. Dad was the priority today and time was running out. An airplane.

A what?

An airplane.

You’re joking.

Not at all. An antique J3 Piper Cub.

Why would you- He stuffed his hands in his pockets. I restore cars. Can’t help you.

But it has an engine, it has seats, it has wheels, it-

Sorry. He backed into the garage. She followed him. I’m not your man.

He was her man. After she discovered the south wasn’t filled with people clamoring to restore airplanes a friend assured her an auto restoration expert could handle the job.

You could do it. I know you could.

His laugh echoed in the cavernous metal building. Don’t try some wacky ego psychology on me, it won’t work.

She trailed him past a Mercedes without an engine and around a Jaguar without wheels, looking down to avoid grease spills, then halted.

Good gracious, this place is spotless. More dirt and grime coated her office at the airport than this building littered with car skeletons.

Thanks. He selected two tools from a five-tiered box and sauntered back outside.

I’ve never seen such a clean garage. She glanced over her shoulder to inspect where she’d walked. No mud, thank goodness. He’d probably have her scrub the floors with a toothbrush if she messed up the floor.

I try. He organized his tools in a line on a heavy cloth covering half the car’s engine.

I’ll teach you to fly if you help me.

He fiddled with a wrench, then set it down and picked up another similar gadget. No thanks.

It’s a great deal.

No thanks.

Flying lessons can get expensive.

He scrutinized the end of his tool, adjusted it a fraction, then inched it onto a bolt. Not if I don’t want to learn to fly.

But I have a list of people who would die to have this offer. They save every penny they have and...Ohhhh, she took a step closer to the car. I know just the person to help. She’s an expert at getting people over the fear of flying. It’s a great program.

A program? He looked up, his eyes filled with humor. I don’t need a program.

After carefully laying his tool back on the cloth, he leaned against the car, bracing his arms on the edge of the engine. What made you stop by here anyway? You just drive by, see the sign and decide I’m the one to restore your airplane?

You are Nick Jordan aren’t you?

Yes.

Lauren Clark.

Nice to meet you, Lauren but I still don’t know why you stopped here specifically.

Bill Turner recommended you. He said you’re the best in Mt. Pleasant and anywhere within a hundred miles of the South Carolina coast. He said you can restore anything.

How do you know Bill?

Friend of my father’s.

I see. He pulled a gasket from his pocket, tore off the plastic, then stuck his head back under the hood. Well, that’s a nice compliment and I appreciate the offer, but I don’t restore airplanes.

Rats. She sank down onto a metal chair and rested her chin in her upturned palms, elbows on her knees. With guys trying to cut deals to get lessons all the time, who would’ve thought Nick would be the only one in town not interested in flying.

But Dad didn’t give up on adopting her and she was not giving up on this. Who knows how many foster homes she would’ve ended up in without him fighting for her.

So, if Nick Jordan was the best, she’d find a way to get his help.

Poking at a stone with the toe of her leather boot, she tried another angle. I guess I’ll go talk to Jonesy at Dick’s Boat Repairs. We can stumble through it together if I find a book.

Nick laughed but didn’t look up. Stumble’s the right word there. Better catch him before noon when he heads down to Callie’s Grill for his afternoon pick me up.

I know. Her shoulders sagged. What a waste of energy. He knew she wouldn’t go see sweet, but worthless Jonesy.

Snatching another clean rag from the mile high pile he wiped a smudge off the side of the car. He must have an enormous washing machine. Probably did a load while waxing the floors.

How can you keep this place so clean anyway? Cars bring in so much junk.

My customers expect a clean garage.

Who’re your customers?

People who appreciate vintage cars.

She sat up straight. Like vintage airplanes?

He stopped polishing and smiled while shaking his head. I am not going to restore your airplane, Lauren. He ducked back under the hood, giving her the same view she’d enjoyed earlier.

Damn he was good-looking. Just her luck he’d be stubborn, too. She glanced at her watch. Almost three and she was twenty minutes from the airport, even if she made all the green lights.

This plan needed some more thought.

I’ve got to go. A student will be in soon. She walked over and wedged her head close to his. But, I’ll be back after you’ve had time to think more about helping me. She placed her hand lightly his arm. You know, Nick, being able to fly would come in handy if you want to zip over to some car show in another state. She backed away as he started to speak. Nice to meet you. I’ll be seeing you soon.

#

Nick tapped a wrench against his thigh as she climbed into the Jeep. He flinched when she slammed into gear and spun her tires on the pavement.

If that’s how you drive, I’m sure not getting in an airplane with you.

He turned back to his client’s ninety thousand dollar car, shining the chrome around the headlight before removing the drop cloth from the engine.

She was damned determined to get her way.

The music switched to Roy Orbison’s Pretty Woman and Nick turned the sound back up to singing volume.

At least she was worth looking at while she needled him to do her bidding. Yeah, she filled out those blue jeans and knit shirt just right. Enough to make it dangerous for any male students struggling to keep their eyes on the airplane instruments.

And it was definitely nice to smell perfume under the hood of a car for a change. Grease was in his blood, but it did nothing for his libido.

What she was up to? Never seen a woman with that kind of project...or determination. Even though he’d never restored a plane, it wouldn’t be much a stretch for him.

Nick strolled to the outdoor sink, dumped solvent on his hands and began the tedious process of cleaning up.

Nice to see someone as focused as he was, but she’d have to find someone else wanting to barter for flying lessons. He needed money and she wasn’t offering any.

He dropped the wet cloth in a bin and sighed. Time to get back to work. He had a long time still ahead of him in the garage, and an even longer night of work at home.

No time to be thinking of a pretty woman he couldn’t help.

CHAPTER TWO

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What are you doing frowning at that computer again? Don’t you have any students today?

Dad. Lauren glanced up grinning. Yes, I have students. But I have office work, too, you know. She slid the overdue credit card statement under the computer.

Bahh, he grumbled, opening his arms. It’ll wait.

Lauren flew into his hug before he finished his sentence. I miss you. She rested her head on his shoulder, the bones of his sinewy body bearing into her cheek. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t find an excuse to escape the detested numbers today, but Dad showing up was special. You and Ruth need to come out to the house for dinner. 

And I miss you, too, darling. He gently pulled her ponytail.

Then why don’t I see you more?

Ruth has me running all over town getting ready for this wedding. You’d think we’re in our twenties instead of our late sixties. We should just be going down to the courthouse.

Oh hush. She kissed his smooth cheek before sitting on the edge of her desk. You’re loving every minute of it.

I am not.

Lauren swallowed the emotion welling in her throat. Thirty-two years after losing his wife, he’d found Ruth. The marvelous woman understood and loved Clayton Clark and Lauren loved Ruth for it. I think the wedding’s romantic.

Hmmpp. Now that Ruth has you swayed to her side, I’ll never have my way again. He gazed out the window over the two runways of the Mt Pleasant airport.

He missed flying. When his failing eyesight forced him to turn the school over to Lauren the previous year, he’d stopped coming to the business he’d nurtured most of his adult life. But recently he’d begun showing up to chat with his friends and check in on her.

Lauren relished each visit.

You’ll look so handsome in the tux, Dad. Is it ready?

We’re picking up the darn thing today. You know the only reason I even agreed to buying it’s so I’ll have something for your wedding.

And pray tell who am I going to marry?

There’s somebody out there for you. He waved a hand toward the green trees bunched together beyond the runways. Although it looked like the forest went on forever, three hundred yards behind the airport stood a million dollar house on the edge of the protected wetlands. But he’ll have to pass my inspection first. It’ll take a special man to marry you.

She laughed. To put up with me I think you mean.

Would I say that about my little girl?

No, but you’d think it.

He pointed to a red four seater. Come on, pumpkin, let’s go look at that new plane Jim bought just to make me jealous.

I really should work on the bills. She glared at the laptop computer she dragged back and forth between the airport and her house with good intentions.

You’ll get them done later. Besides, you need to mingle with the customers. That’s what we’re known for. Not for sitting in the office.

I know. She hated the office work, even though it meant invoices wouldn’t be mailed, she wouldn’t get paid and the credit card bill might as well stay under the computer.

She grabbed her sunglasses. Dad and Ruth would be off on their honeymoon soon and she wouldn’t see them for six weeks. Her fingers curled around the doorknob as her father’s voice boomed across the office.

Lauren Katherine Clark, what in the blazes is that?

She turned around to find exactly what she expected - her father pointing under her desk.

Spike.

And what is a Spike?

Who knows? Lauren moved around the corner of the steel desk and kneeled to pet the bristly beige fur stretched over sturdy ribs. 

You don’t need another dog.

She shuffled back as Spike stood and nudged her knees with his nose. But someone dropped him off at the vet’s office and never came back.

They know you’re a soft touch.

One more won’t hurt.

One more makes how many now? Bet you don’t even know.

I know exactly how many pets I have, Dad.

Hmmmph.

Spike wiggled around the pants leg of her father, his toenails clicking on the concrete floor. Oh for pity sakes dog. He stroked Spike’s head. Do you know how lucky you are old man? She’ll let you stay in the house if you play it right.

Who’s the soft touch? I think Spike smells Ginger on you.

One dog and one cat. That’s all we have. Not a zoo, like you.

That’s only because you and Ruth live in a condo. I remember us having more than two pets when I was growing up and you still lived out at the house with me.

You wouldn’t let an animal pass by without adopting it.

Lauren hugged her father. You could never say no to me, could you?

I spoiled you and now you expect every other man in the world to do the same. Let you get your way.

Not always. Lauren laughed and grabbed her father’s hand. Only when I really, really want something.

#

Nick balanced his chair on the back legs, his bare feet flat on the floor. That’s not a business expense. Nice try, buddy. He dropped the chair back on all four legs. Scrolling down the financial statements of his friend’s car detailing business, Nick searched for other errors. One more hour and he’d be finished. This would bring in some of the cash he needed to pay off the parts bill.

He stretched his neck in a circle. He’d been sitting at his computer for four hours. After finishing his own books, he’d tackled Mike’s financial mess.

He was swamped at the garage and didn’t really have time take on extra work, but it was easy money...and he couldn’t turn down money. Maybe by the end of the year he’d even have a bit of an emergency fund.

He winced as his phone started ringing. No one called with good news this late at night. Hello.

"Hi, Nick. Hate to call so late, but I