But she also wasn’t in the mood to have her nose rubbed into the obvious by a woman who’d flirt or shake her ass in a man’s face to get him to do something for her, either. “Just because I’m looking at an old interview doesn’t mean I’m doing a story, Lizbet.”

“Oh.” The response seemed to leave her momentarily nonplussed and knocked off course. “Well, why else would you be digging through them?”

“To find something for a friend.”

Lizbet blinked.

Then repeated the act.

Then glanced back at the screen and shrugged. “I guess I just thought—”

Cassie’s phone rang, the number on the screen vaguely familiar even though it wasn’t programmed in her directory. Not that it mattered. If it meant having an excuse to end her conversation with Lizbet, she’d have answered Satan’s call.

She picked it up and held up her finger. “I’ve got to get this.”

Lizbet frowned, but backed away from the desk. “Sure. Let me know if you need help finding whatever you’re after.”

Mindful of other eyes on them, Cassie fought glaring at Lizbet’s back and answered the phone instead. “Cassie McClintock.”

“Um, Cassie. Hey. This is Rodney.”

“Rodney?”

“From Farley Mechanics. You brought your car in yesterday?”

“Oh! Rodney! Right!” Cassie peeled her headphones from around her neck and reclined in her desk chair. “Everything going okay on the repairs?”

“Yep. All done.”

She shot upright so fast her seat back rattled. “Already? I thought it was going to take a day or two at least.”

“Nope. Got it all knocked out, and it’s ready to go.”

Maybe it was just her imagination, but it sure sounded like Rodney was as relieved as she was. “Did the cost end up where you thought it would?”

“Oh, no. Just fifty bucks should cover it.”

“Fifty? For a timing chain? You said it’d be at least four-fifty.”

“Uh...” Papers rustled in the background followed by what sounded like a metal file cabinet slamming shut. “It wasn’t a timing chain. It was...a belt. Those are cheap. Just charging you for that and a little labor.”

“Really?” She let out a shaky laugh and anchored her elbows on the desk in front of her. “The way you were looking at my engine yesterday, I thought for sure I was in for some whopper repairs.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes that first look we get it wrong.” Something muffled the background noise on his end of the phone. A second later he was back on the line, the sound of a power tool causing a pretty significant commotion. “So, listen, if you’re gonna be home in the next hour, I’ll drop it off.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ll drop it off.” He hesitated a beat then hastily added, “I can make it in thirty minutes if that’s better.”

“No, no. An hour is fine. I just—well, fifty dollars and delivery to boot, that’s a great deal. I’m really grateful. Let me give you my address.”

“No need. I’ve got it on the paperwork.”