Loved Either Way by Bethany-Kris

Author:Bethany-Kris [Bethany-Kris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-03-27T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22

“Is that an ‘82?” Malachi asked.

Lucas chuckled from his seat at the table. The man had spied the truck from the window over the sink five minutes ago and hadn’t looked back. “Close. Three.”

Malachi whistled. “Damn. It’s in nice shape, man.”

“Yeah, Mitchel kept it up. I didn’t have the same sentimental feelings about it that he did, but I couldn’t sell it after everything was said and done.”

“Mitchel?”

“My grandfather,” Lucas clarified, smiling apologetically when Malachi glanced his way. “The camp in the Ridge was his—the old truck came with it when it switched over to me. Of course, it’s got to a point when something breaks on it, they’ve gotta go four acres deep into a junkyard to find a part on another one to fix it.”

“I bet,” Malachi replied absentmindedly, his focus back on the Chevy that could be considered an antique at this point. “Why’d he keep it for so long?”

“Said he got laid in the truck once upon a time, and never got over that one. Never specified whether it was the same truck or not, fair warning.”

Malachi chuckled. “Good to know.”

The last fifteen years of Mitchel’s marriage with his wife before she passed had been fraught with her sickness—cancer truly was a bitch—but Lucas barely even remembered his grandmother now. In fact, he had clearer memories of when his grandfather bought the old truck. His grandmother was dead before his early childhood memories really started. Not known for his romantic nature, or even friendliness on a good day, it really said something that there had been a woman in Lucas’ grandfather’s past that lived rent-free in the back of Mitchel’s mind.

“Anyway, he loved the damn thing because of it. Kept up on the body work and only drove it when he came to the camp.”

Malachi grinned wickedly. “Shit, eh? Really?”

Lucas shrugged. “That’s what he told me.”

And anybody else who asked, too.

Some stories couldn’t be told enough, apparently.

“So, hey, if you ever wanna sell it,” the man hedged.

Lucas laughed. “Seriously?”

Malachi shrugged, and turned away from the sink and window with the half emptied glass of water sloshing from the fast spin. “Yeah, no joke. Gracen would only want to kill me for a little while—she’ll like taking it out in the fields in the summer, though. It’ll work itself out.”

The guy had it all planned out, clearly.

Lucas glanced down at the creamy coffee in the mug between his cupped hands on the barn-style table. “I should get rid of the damn thing and store something newer at the camp with a better set of tires. I don’t usually come upriver in the winter.”

“Put a number on it,” Malachi returned, coming to sit at the head of the table with a lazy posture that spoke of his comfort in the spot. “Let’s see if it meets the one I’ve got in my head.”

“Right now?”

“No time like the present,” the man said, smirking back.

Shit, all right.

He wasn’t playing around.

Lucas liked that. “Twenty, and you take it as is.”

Malachi tipped his head to the side like he was considering the offer.

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