To belong together, p.1
To Belong Together, page 1
Copyright © 2022 by Emily Conrad
Published by Hope Anchor, LLC
PO Box 3091, Oshkosh, WI 54903
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Library of Congress Control Number: 2021923432
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, or actual events is purely coincidental. Any real locations named are used fictitiously.
Scripture quotations are from The ESV® Bible (The Holy Bible, English Standard Version®), copyright © 2001 by Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
ISBN 978-1-7360388-4-0(Paperback Edition)
ISBN 978-1-7360388-5-7 (Ebook Edition)
Cover and title page design by Okay Creations, LLC
Edited by Robin Patchen, Robin’s Red Pen
Author photograph by Kim Hoffman
Visit the author’s website at EmilyConradAuthor.com.
CONTENTS
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
An email subscriber exclusive story
Discussion Guide
Author’s Note
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Emily Conrad
Did you enjoy this book?
For Adam, my favorite drummer and most trusted mechanic technician. We belong together.
1
Had John heard right? His mechanic was a woman?
The front desk lady slid onto the stool behind the counter without looking at him to note his surprise, so she didn’t repeat herself. Yet he was fairly certain she’d said, “She’ll be right up.”
He stepped back from the counter, and his gaze wandered to the glass door between the lobby and the service garage of Hirsh Auto Repair. Would a girl mechanic be built like a truck? Or she might buck stereotypes and come out sporting long blond hair and fake red nails.
Not that appearances mattered. This was the twenty-first century, and the only quality he needed in a mechanic was the ability to fix his car’s squeak.
Determined to douse his curiosity, John turned from the door, snagged a waxy paper cup from beside the water cooler, and held it under the spout.
Work boots scuffed to a stop behind him. “John?” The upbeat alto voice drew his attention back over his shoulder.
Tall, but not truck-like at all, the mechanic had tucked her stiff uniform shirt in at her slim waist. Blue tips accented her short, raven hair, and a row of studs ran up her right ear.
Attractive, but with attitude.
She eyed the two other men seated in the waiting area.
Before John got his act together and answered her, an air bubble glugged through the water cooler. Water splashed over his fingers to the plastic grate beneath the spout.
“John Kennedy?”
“Yes.” He flicked the moisture from his hand as he turned from the cooler and found the woman’s bright attention on him.
She quirked a smile. “Here for a suspension squeak?”
Did the extra question mean she didn’t know him by sight? That’d be a refreshing change. Fans had been recognizing him, Gannon, and Philip everywhere since Awestruck moved to this small community in northern Wisconsin. The rock band’s notoriety was a privilege, but fame complicated the simplest interactions.
“That’s me.”
“People don’t usually have trouble hearing me.” The woman’s necklace had hooked on the top button of her uniform, and a gold cross glinted against her black shirt.
“Grandma always says the loud music will catch up with me.” He watched, but the reference to his job as Awestruck’s drummer didn’t earn him a second glance. He downed the water, tossed the cup in the waste basket, and extended his hand to her. “I’m John.”
Her smile broadened, bringing out dimples. She shifted the paper and key she carried to one hand so she could return the handshake. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. President.”
John laughed a little too heartily. He’d made his own mark on the name John Kennedy, and people rarely teased him about the president anymore. “You’re my mechanic?”
“I’m Erin. But I’m not your mechanic.” Her smile turned sly as she set the paperwork on a chair, slipped a jacket off a hook on the wall, and shrugged the garment on. “A mechanic is a backyard hack who’ll upsell work you don’t need and cobble it together so poorly, you’ll be stranded by the side of the road, calling for a tow before you realize what hit you.” She swept up the paperwork and pushed her back against the door to the lot, leading the way into the cold, white world of a Wisconsin March.
He’d initially heard the squeak in California, before the move. The shop there claimed to have fixed it. Either they hadn’t, or the terrible road conditions near his new house had knocked something loose again. To reduce the margin for error this time around, he’d requested his mechanic take a drive with him to hear what he heard before attempting to fix it.
And now he was glad he had. This would be an entertaining ride.
“So, if not a mechanic, you’re a …?” His breath puffed, a visible question mark.
“A technician who attended school to earn the right to touch your car, who’ll only sell you work you need, and who’ll do it correctly the first time.”
“And if you don’t?” He’d meant the question to continue the banter, but he must’ve hit a sore spot because an uncomfortable beat ticked away in silence.
“We have a guarantee. If the work isn’t done right, I’ll redo it, no charge.” The mischief seeped back into her eyes. “But don’t hold your breath on me making a mistake. I don’t get many comebacks.” She dangled his key, which he’d surrendered when he’d checked in, in front of him.
He overrode his pride, which hated riding shotgun in his own car, and resisted the offer. “You’re the expert.”
“I’ll be listening for the squeak.” The dimples returned full force, and her eyes sparkled with a friendly challenge. “Assuming you can make it happen.”
He snagged the key and opened the driver’s door. “Point me to the nearest bumpy road.”
She circled the hood to the passenger’s side. “Not from around here?”
“New to the area.”
“Why move here?”
“Work.” He slid behind the wheel. If Erin didn’t know what he did for a living, he was in no rush to add the complication.
As the engine came to life, Gannon’s voice streamed into the cabin. John’s stereo, which was synced to play from his phone, was out to sabotage him. John had listened to the unfinished track on the way here, working out ideas for revisions and drums. He punched the stereo display to silence it.
Erin buckled in, seemingly oblivious.
“Which way?” he asked.
“Any of the residential streets. That direction.” She nodded toward the south. “Freezes and thaws do a number on asphalt, and the city isn’t great about keeping up. I can’t believe you moved here in winter. You must be cursing that job.”
Never. Drumming for Awestruck—or his brother-like friendship with lead singer Gannon Vaughn, anyway—had gotten him through much worse than cold weather, which wasn’t as bad as people made it out to be. Some of his fondest childhood memories were of escaping all the noise of his sisters and going winter camping with his stepdad. But he’d rather hear about Erin than drone on about himself. “You don’t like winter?”
“Because up here, it lasts into May. Some years, ice hunks float in the bay until June. So, no.” She flipped the invoice, then lifted her gaze to the street as he pulled out of Hirsh Auto’s lot. “I had plans to live anywhere else, but my parents are getting older, and duty calls. Just don’t let anyone tell you working for family’s easy.”
“Hirsh is your old man?” He obeyed a four-way stop and peered at the options to judge which street might show off the squeak.
“Technically, yes, we’re Hirshes too, but my dad’s brother, Nick, owns the place.” Her tone conveyed that the uncle made an exponentially worse boss than her dad would’ve. “Try a right here.” She pointed with her left hand. “Th
No sign of a ring, and if she still went by her maiden name, chances were, she wasn’t married.
Not that he was after a date.
But … well, maybe.
There was more to life than the band.
Or at least, he wanted more.
Unfortunately, that had become a complicated quest. He’d explained away the early hints that his last girlfriend was lying to him about her finances. Because he’d been too trusting, it’d taken him the better part of last year to realize she didn’t care about him nearly as much as she cared about his bank account.
He’d broken it off, but the memory lingered, leading him to question people’s motives.
Instead of letting it jade him, he’d have to find a way to benefit from his relationship with Nicole. He could keep his eyes open, use his head, and try again. Especially with someone like Erin, who couldn’t be motivated by his income when she didn’t seem to know about it.
Yet.
She seemed friendly, smart, funny, and committed to family.
Plus, that ready smile was a showstopper.
Not an easy combination to beat.
A block down the street she’d chosen, he understood why she used the road for test drives. Packed snow and ice hadn’t filled the potholes. They’d added more. The squeak started up. Erin leaned forward, moving to pinpoint the sound as the tires thrummed over the terrain.
After reviewing the invoice one last time, she relaxed into her seat. “I can take it from here.”
John turned the wheel to return to the shop, only too aware that their conversation had died. If he wanted more than a test drive and a fixed car, he should’ve shared about himself, but he’d suffered even worse experiences with talking than with dating.
Can You give me a sign if this is worth the risk, God?
The cross necklace was promising. The symbol’s importance to her could tell him whether to pursue this.
He took a breath, fighting the long-held habit of keeping his mouth shut. “I like nature. And animals—I have two dogs. Moving here made sense. Got a place surrounded by woods, and my family’s a couple of hours away instead of two thousand miles. You get it.”
She nodded but didn’t give him anything in return. She’d made family sound like a priority, her reason for living in an area she didn’t like. If anything got her talking again, this would.
He offered a little more. “My baby sister’s getting married in a couple of weeks. Instead of having to fly in, I can drive.”
“I bet she loves you calling her the baby.”
“With three younger sisters, I have to differentiate somehow. You have siblings?”
Erin shook her head.
He was out of ideas. Fine. If they were doomed to stilted conversation, he’d simply ask for the information he wanted. “Why a cross necklace?”
Erin rubbed the gold symbol, then tucked the chain under the collar of her uniform. “It was a gift from my parents when I rededicated my life to Christ at seventeen.”
So, she was a believer.
Hopefully, she also believed in extending grace, because he would need heaps to get through this conversation. “I’ve got a tattoo for something similar. Life was getting crazy, and I wanted a permanent reminder of my priorities—Jesus first.”
“Let me guess.” Erin cracked a grin. “A cross on your ankle?”
“You’re funny.” The ink portrayed a spear wound on his side and a verse about being healed by Jesus’s stripes. But it seemed premature to talk about something usually covered by his shirt.
Erin saved him by not asking. “Tattoos are forever, so I never worked up the nerve. I could see getting one about my faith, but mostly, I’m happy with the less-permanent alterations.” She ruffled her fingers through the blue tips in her hair. “Anyway. I still can’t believe you’d move here this time of year.”
“There must be something redeeming about winter.”
“It’s not thirty-below anymore.” One dimple appeared with her wry smile. “Honestly, there’s no pleasing me. I don’t like super-hot weather either. Most shops aren’t air-conditioned, but they are, at least, heated. Anyway, family’s important, so I’m here to stay.”
Hirsh Auto Repair, a narrow brown building almost as deep as the block, came into view. Philip’s SUV idled out front, waiting to give John a lift to Gannon’s. Erin turned her head, possibly noting the luxury vehicle Philip had purchased after signing on as Awestruck’s bassist a year and a half ago.
If John wanted to get a foothold before fame and fortune became factors in Erin’s decision, he needed to make his move before she pieced together the clues and learned his identity. Besides, he’d gotten the sign he’d asked for. On the chance that God was involved, he couldn’t walk away without trying.
He steered to the same parking spot they’d left a few minutes ago. “Want to get coffee sometime?”
Her eyebrows lifted toward her side-swept bangs. “Really?”
Did she really think he was joking?
If Gannon and Philip had been in the back seat, they’d fill the silence with howls of laughter.
He realized now, far too late, that a mechanic probably wouldn’t wear a ring at work, and even if she weren’t married, she might have a boyfriend.
Erin offered a small smile. “I should focus on the car. I’m not looking for romance.”
Which meant she wasn’t involved with anyone. She simply wasn’t interested in him.
“Fair enough.”
Next time, he’d ask for a more unlikely sign.
He imagined God chuckling and reminding him that striking out wasn’t a big deal. Just a lesson in humility. John’s favorite.
Or maybe God wouldn’t laugh it off. Life had become lonely in ways John’s friendships didn’t cure, and he believed God cared.
Fighting to keep the disappointment off his face, he climbed from the car. “I’ll hear from you when it’s done?”
“Once I’ve diagnosed the problem, we’ll call with a price quote and a time frame.” She accepted the key from him and paired it with the invoice. No pity softened her voice or those bright, brown eyes.
Didn’t help. He felt pretty pitiful.
“I’ll save you the trouble. If it needs doing, do it.” That ought to convey that he trusted her and wouldn’t hound her for a chance to talk again. He might feel pitiful, but he wouldn’t act like it. “See you around, Erin.”
His ego ground into the asphalt with each step toward Philip’s SUV, each step she didn’t call out to say that she’d reconsidered the coffee date.
So, that was how easy it was to get shot down when he was known only as the guy with a president’s name and a squeaky car.
Erin could tell a lot about a man by his car, and John Kennedy was no exception. With his vehicle above her on the hoist, she angled her flashlight to inspect the suspension.
Before they’d pulled out of the lot, his choice in car had told her he was practical and reliable, to a degree, but his rims and stereo said he dropped piles of money on things that mattered to him. Now that she’d gotten a closer look, she’d also found modifications to improve power and handling. Those, on the sporty edition of such a new car, indicated he was well-off or had mountains of debt.
As for his love of dogs, the nose prints on the windows had told her about his pets before he’d mentioned them. Otherwise, he kept the interior impeccably clean.
Dogs scared her, and who knew where John’s finances stood, but overall, she’d liked him. She’d never relished the idea of having to bend down to kiss a guy, so he’d earned points by being taller than her own five foot nine. The man’s facial structure hadn’t hurt either. Who knew she’d be a sucker for cheekbones?
