Page 91 of Truck Me

Which is not a good thing right now since I’m pulling up outside of Mrs. Engle’s hair salon to replace her chair. If she sees me smiling, she’ll know something is going on. She might not know the why, but she’s a relentless gossip and will make it her mission to find out.

Charlotte’s been the topic of enough gossip to last a lifetime, and I don’t want to be the reason she’s subjected to more.

To say it surprised me when Mrs. Engle called to schedule a time to install a new chair is an understatement. I didn’t think anything would get that woman to replace that old chair.

A tinge of disappointment washes over me when I don’t see Charlotte’s parents’ car outside the salon even though I know she’s not working. She only works a few days a week. Mrs. Engle isn’t ready to give up more shifts yet. It’s one of the few things Charlotte has complained about. I sense she really misses her job more than anything else about her life in Chicago.

Other than that, I think she’s happy here. She hasn’t once mentioned her desire to move back. Any time talk of the future comes up, which isn’t that often, she only talks about Beaver as her home.

I hope that means she not only plans on staying after things settle with her dad, but that she wants to stay.

Although her staying means, I have to tell her the truth. I can’t keep seeing her with this secret between us. The longer it goes on, the harder it will be for her to accept it. Assuming she can accept it at all.

Grabbing my toolbox from the bed of my truck, I head inside to get to work. Installing this chair will take me half the day. Maybe longer with the way Mrs. Engle likes to talk.

I stop just inside the door and stare at her in confusion. There’s a client in her old chair and she’s chatting like she always does. Next to her station on the wall is a second station with a new cabinet and counter space.

She looks up from where she’s working and gives me a huge smile. “Garret! You’re here.”

I glance around until my eyes land on a large box sitting behind her desk. “What’s going on? I thought I was swapping out your old chair today.”

“Oh, no.” She waves at me like I just said the silliest thing she’s ever heard. “You must have misunderstood. I’m not replacing this chair. I’m adding a second one. For Charlotte. She’s doing so well here, and the younger girls are finally coming in. She’s getting so many requests that she needs more hours. I can only give her that if I have a second chair.”

A slow smile lifts my lips. “Does she know you’re doing this?”

Mrs. Engle tilts her head to one side like she’s studying me. I quickly school my features and wipe the smile off my face. “Well, I mentioned it at one point, but never brought it up again. I wanted to surprise her. Why do you ask?”

I shrug. “Just curious. She lives next door to me, and I see her out with Rayne a lot.”

“Oh.” She looks like she wants to ask me more. I brace myself for more questioning but am relieved that it doesn’t come. “She’s been doing such a great job here. This is the least I can do for her. Did you know she was so successful in Chicago? She styled the rich and famous. Can you imagine having a career like that? I’d hate for her to run back to that life once all the bad publicity fades. I mean, what that man did to her was shameful. Here she was, putting herself out there and proposing to him. That man should have been over the moon for that girl. Instead, he was cheating on her. Humiliated her at that fancy event. I even heard he was the one who sold the tabloids the pictures of her crying. Just shameful, I tell you. Shameful.”

I remain motionless, staring at Mrs. Engle like she grew two heads. I knew something happened to Charlotte before she moved home, but I didn’t know the details. She mentioned her ex-boyfriend cheated, but I’ve never asked her more about it, and she’s never brought it up again.

Hearing this additional information angers me. Every protective instinct in my body ignites, and I want to race off to Chicago, find this guy, and beat him to a pulp.

My princess deserves better than that.

“Garret?” I shake my head and refocus my eyes on Mrs. Engle. She’s watching me with concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “I’m fine.” I point to a spot marked on the floor with tape. “Is that where you want the chair?”

She glances over her shoulder. “Oh, yes. Right there would be great. It should line up perfectly with the new station.”

Without further response, I head over to the large box and cut it open.

It pleases me immensely that Mrs. Engle is doing this to surprise Charlotte. She loves her work and has complained a few times about being bored. She wants more hours and the fact that Mrs. Engle is making that happen makes me happy.

But I can’t get her words out of my head.

Here she was, putting herself out there and proposing to him.

She proposed to that asshole? That knowledge feeds the primal beast inside me and has me ready to rush to her house and demand she be mine and only mine.

Would she, if I asked? It’s only been a few months. That’s hardly long enough for her to get over a broken heart and open it up to someone new.

Especially someone like me.

Damaged. Broken. And keeping secrets.