All Yours

Mason

I tossed Kline his keys when he ducked under the garage door to meet me on Sunday morning.

“She drove like a dream,” I told him.

“And she looks like she sat in your garage the whole time,” Kline said.

“I can assure you, she did not. I just know a guy who does a good detail job.”

“In such a short amount of time?”

“He’s my brother,” I said.

“Ah,” Kline nodded. “Well, I appreciate it. And I’m happy to hear you won. It makes it all worth it.”

“I have something for you,” I said. Kline’s eyebrows lifted, but he didn’t say anything as I walked over to where my jacket sat on my workbench. I rummaged around in one of the pockets before withdrawing an envelope. I walked back over and handed it to him. “A thank-you for everything you did. This all would have gone down a hell of a lot differently if you weren’t willing to lend a hand. And your baby,” I added, nodding at the Boxster.

Kline opened