And he’d just implied it wasn’t really her.
The realization made his stomach knot. How long had Joy been hiding this side of herself? How many times had people—hadhe—pushed her back into the box labeledwild childwhen she tried to show something different?
Bear moved closer, taking in the truck with new eyes. Not just the colors or the fancy lettering, but the thought behind it. The intention. The hours of meticulous work. This wasn’t something Joy had thrown together on a whim. This was something she’dpouredherself into.
“This is truly damn impressive, Bug,” he said, his voice softening.
Joy glanced at him, wariness still evident in her eyes. “You serious?”
“Hell yes, I’m serious.” He gestured to the truck. “The detail work alone is incredible. Where’d you learn to paint like this?”
A hint of color touched her cheeks. “YouTube, at first. Then I took a class in Reddington City a couple years ago. I go once a month.”
“Once a month? For years?” Bear tried to hide his surprise. Joy had been secretly taking art classes for years, and nobody knew?
She nodded, some of the tension easing from her shoulders. “It was just a hobby at first. Something to do when things got quiet at the Eagle’s Nest. But then—” She shrugged. “I discovered I liked it. And I was kind of good at it.”
Bear looked again at the truck.Kind of goodwas the understatement of the century.
“This is yours,” he said softly. “It’s not what people expect from Joy Davis, but it’s completely and authentically you.”
Her eyes met his, a question in their depths.
“Took us all long enough to see it, didn’t it?” he continued. “That you aren’t the same girl everyone still thinks you are. That you’ve grown into a multifaceted woman.”
Joy sucked in a breath, her lips parting slightly. “You don’t think it’s…I don’t know, pretentious? Or ridiculous?”
“I think it’s unexpected, but in the best possible way, Bug.” He fought back a cringe at the nickname, thinking it might bother her, but it didn’t seem to. “This is something special. Really special.”
Something shifted in her expression—relief, maybe, or hope. She blinked rapidly and turned away, but not before he caught the sheen in her eyes.
Bear inhaled deeply, his own emotions catching him off guard. This moment felt significant in ways he couldn’t fully articulate. But Joy was still watching him, waiting, and right now, she needed him steady.
He clapped his hands together, falling back on familiar territory. “All right, let’s get this beauty running. What mechanical issues are we dealing with?”
Her posture relaxed, the corner of her mouth quirking upward. “Finally. I was wondering if you were ever going to stop staring at my truck like it was an alien spaceship.”
“I wasn’t staring,” he protested, grinning. “I was…appreciating.”
“Uh-huh.” She rolled her eyes, but the smile blooming across her face was genuine. “Well,appreciateunder the hood. The starter’s still temperamental, and there’s that rattling sound in the exhaust.”
Bear moved to the front of the truck, popping the hood with practiced ease. “I’ll work on the mechanics, you keep doing…whatever this is.” He gestured vaguely at the interior.
Joy narrowed her eyes playfully. “This is fine-tuning a perfectly curated aesthetic, thank you very much.”
“Yeah, all right, Davis,” he chuckled. “Youaestheticwhile I make sure this thing doesn’t break down in the middle of Main Street.”
She laughed—actually laughed, the sound bright and clear—before disappearing back into the interior of the truck. The sound of it warmed something deep in his chest. It had been too long since he’d heard that laugh.
He bent over the engine, his hands finding familiar territory among belts and wires. This, at least, was straightforward. Engines made sense to him—identify the problem, apply the solution, move on to the next issue. But as he worked, his mind kept circling back to the revelation of the truck’s transformation.
How many other sides of Joy had he missed all these years?
Every now and then, he caught himself glancing through the service window, watching her adjust fixtures inside with the same meticulous care she’d obviously applied to the painting. Her movements were focused, precise—nothing like the whirlwind of energy he’d always associated with her.
She climbed onto the counter at one point, stretching to hang delicate pendant lights above the service window. Her T-shirt rode up slightly, revealing a strip of skin above her jeans. Bear swallowed hard and forced his attention back to the engine.
After a while, Joy stepped out of the truck, wiping her hands on a rag. “How’s it looking?”
