The Awkward Situation

JD frowned at Joanne's odd reaction but dialed the number anyway. A man picked up after the first ring. JD suddenly realized he didn't even know the mechanic's name.

"Uh… hi. My car won't start, and—"

"Call the shop."

The voice was deep, clipped, and annoyed.

JD blinked. "Oh… uh—"

"Wait." The man's tone softened, shifting from irritation to something sharper. Something wary. "Where'd you get this number? Where are you calling from?"

JD hesitated. "The McDonald Farm. I'm—"

"I'll be there in a minute."

Click.

The line went dead.

JD stared at his phone. What the hell was that?

"What did he say?" Joanne asked, still standing on the porch.

"I don't think he'll help…" JD said.

Joanne waved her hand with a smile. "He'll send someone. Wait." Saying that, she went inside the house.

JD thought about the odd interaction. Before he could process it, a cloud of dust kicked up on the road.

A truck was coming fast.

JD watched in disbelief as the vehicle barreled down the driveway, tires skidding to a stop with an aggressive crunch of gravel.

Two minutes.

That had to be the mechanic.

JD hadn't expected customer service at breakneck speed, especially not after that frosty phone call.

Through the dust emerged a man in plaid and worn jeans, sleeves rolled up over tanned forearms, chewing gum like he had all the time in the world. His dirty blonde hair was clumsily set back. Even his loose shirt couldn't hide the slight beer belly beneath it.

JD's first impression? Unimpressed.

But what really bugged him—the guy didn't even look at him.

Not the car. Not the guest.

His piercing blue eyes were locked on the porch.

"What's the issue?" he asked, still not looking away from the porch.

JD bristled.

Was he waiting for Joanne?

JD crossed his arms and stayed silent.

That finally made the man turn to him. He scanned JD up and down, gaze assessing, unimpressed.

"You the paying guest?"

JD cleared his throat. "Yes."

At that, the man's mouth curled into something close to a sneer.

JD's annoyance flared. "You're the mechanic?" he asked coolly. "I'm Jeffrey Daniels. Everyone calls me JD. I'm working at~"

The man barked a laugh. A real laugh cutting through JD's words.

"Mechanic, am I?" He smirked. "And you're Jeffrey?" Another chuckle. "Your name's Jeffrey?"

JD's brows furrowed. What the hell was so funny about his name?

Before JD could retort, another voice cut in.

"Liam!"

Patrick strode over, grinning. "What do we owe the honor of having Mr. Sullivan here?" His tone was teasing—too familiar.

Liam's face lit up. "We had drinks at the pub last night, Paddy. Don't act like we don't see each other anymore."

Patrick chuckled, but then his expression shifted, something unreadable crossing his face. "You haven't stepped foot here in five years," Patrick said, "ever since…" then hesitated. His gaze flicked to JD, and he cut himself off.

JD shifted, feeling like an outsider in the conversation. Like an eavesdropper in someone else's history. And history, it seemed, Liam had plenty of with this place.

As JD stepped back, he noticed something else.

The workers all knew Liam. Not just in passing. They greeted him with easy smiles, nods of familiarity—like an old friend, like someone who belonged.

JD listened as they chatted. Liam owned the biggest garage in town. His shop handled everything—cars, trucks, even farm machinery. Including Joanne's.

JD did some quick math in his head. Liam probably made six figures, at least.

That didn't bother him.

But his relationship with Joanne did.

Because no matter how JD looked at it, this wasn't just a mechanic dropping by. Liam had come the second JD mentioned McDonald Farm. And somehow, he already knew JD was the paying guest.

He kept tabs on Joanne.

And Joanne…

She knew his number by heart. Not the shop. His private number. She was sure he'd help. She knew him that well.

JD watched as Liam worked his way into the crowd, acting like a man who belonged. By the time JD reached them, Liam was already unloading hay, the workers teasing him about still having farm strength.

JD frowned.

Why was the mechanic even helping?

JD stepped to the side, eyeing one of the heavy bales of hay. How hard could it be?

Turns out—pretty damn hard.

Liam made it look easy, but when JD tried to shove one aside, it barely budged. He stretched his hands out, forcing down his annoyance. He worked out, he was strong—but Liam worked with his hands.

"Careful, city boy, Jeffrey!"

JD turned, already irritated. Why should he call his name that way?

Liam was smirking, arms crossed.

JD scowled. "I can handle a little hay."

"Sure you can," Liam said, unimpressed. Then, as if to rub it in, he picked up a bale and slung it over his shoulder.

JD clenched his jaw.

Before he could retort, Liam suddenly started talking—about the car, throwing out terms JD barely understood.

"Sounds like your solenoid is bad," Liam mused, chewing his gum.

JD blinked. "My what?"

Liam snorted. "You don't know what that is?"

JD narrowed his eyes. "If I did, I wouldn't need a mechanic."

Liam grinned, like he enjoyed the irritation in JD's voice.

At that moment, the sound of another car pulling in caught both their attention.

Not just any car. A luxury car.

JD and Liam both turned, watching as it slowed to a stop in the driveway.

Who the hell would drive something like that out here?

On the porch, Joanne stepped out, balancing a coffee cup in her hands.

She'd made it for the mechanic. The smile on her face reduced as she saw the mechanic who arrived. She never expected it to be him.

Five years.

Five years since Liam had set foot here. Five years since he spoke to her, since he even looked at her.

And yet, here he was.

Her heart fluttered with feelings that she thought she had long buried down. The approach of the car caused a stir in her stomach.

Liam was here.

And now… so was Jonathan Meyer.

Joanne's grip tightened on the coffee cup.

Her heart pounded.

Liam. JD. Jonathan.

What kind of situation was this?