“I didn’t make you who you are, and neither did the Fitzsimmonses. You had opportunities, and you made the best of them. Because of who you are.”
Her breath blew over his face, and he realized he was still grasping her wrist. He let go. She didn’t move. It was hard to tell, since he couldn’t see much, but her breath seemed to come in little gasps.
“You believe in me. But you don’t even know me.” She bit her lip, her white teeth flashing in the dark. “You didn’t rescue any of the other girls when they had to get married. Just me.”
“Just you.” He echoed her words, like he was agreeing, even though implicit in her tone was the question, “Why?” But he couldn’t answer that. Couldn’t say why he’d watched the Marrying Game from the side of the playground where he played trucks with the rest of his buddies and didn’t give a flip about the other girls getting “married.” There were even some who didn’t want to and had been dragged down the aisle, laughing and protesting, just like Kelly. But he hadn’t considered going to their defense. He’d only watched to make sure Kelly wasn’t getting married. When it had been her turn, all he’d needed to see was that she didn’t want to, and he’d gone over, having no idea of what he was going to say or do. And, although there were always children whose parents neglected them, he hadn’t considered taking anyone but Kelly to Mrs. Fitzsimmons. Why? He didn’t know.
“Why?” she finally whispered when he didn’t say anything.
“I’d better get this car done.” He fingered the lighter in his pocket. Sure, he admired Kelly. Liked her. There was even this little crazy attraction. But that’s all it could be. Trying to examine his feelings, even the feelings of a first grader—there was no point in that.
She stepped back, and the longing for a cigarette hit him hard. Not for the nicotine craving but for something to do with his hands, his mouth. A distraction from what he wanted to do, which was keep her from backing away from him.
“Yeah. It’s late. I’m sure my fiancé will be calling me any time.”
Her words hit him like a hammer to his thumb. Exactly the way she intended for them to hit, he assumed. But he couldn’t just let her walk off into the darkness.
“I’ll walk you to your car.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“Then I’ll walk to the corner and watch until you get in.”
“I’m not a child.”
“No.” He certainly wasn’t confused about that. “But it’s late and these streets aren’t safe.”
“I’m on these streets all the time. I just dropped kids off two blocks over. Plus...” She moved, rustling in her purse, he assumed. “I have this.” She held something up.
Pulling the lighter out of his pocket, he flicked it on. “A rabbit’s foot?”
“A lucky rabbit’s foot.”
She had a lucky rabbit’s foot. He couldn’t stop the smile that turned the corners of his mouth up. Crazy woman. “You don’t actually believe that’s going to keep you safe?”
“Not because it’s magical, exactly,” she said with a saucy tone. “But, come on. Who’s going to hurt someone who’s waving a rabbit’s foot around?”
He grunted, which, to his surprise, was almost a laugh. “I’ll visit you in the psych ward.”
“That’s not funny.”
“I was being serious. I can see it now. Gang members capturing you and turning you in, because the streets aren’t safe with a psycho like you on the loose.”
“Wow. I had no idea you had such an overactive imagination.”
“Hey, criminals have feelings too.”
“You just switched sides! Defending the criminals. You are definitely not walking me to my car.”
This time he did laugh, a short, rusty sound. He reached out in the dark and took her elbow. “I’m always on your side, Kelly. Come on. Let me walk you to your car because I like you and it’s fun to walk in the dark with a pretty girl.” Not that he would know or anything.
She moved easily with the pressure on her elbow. “You like me? How come you weren’t talking to me earlier?”
No. No secret sharing. Not with anyone, but especially not with Kelly.
They made it to the corner and the edge of the streetlight before she spoke again. “You clammed up on me again?”
He ignored the question. There was no answer for it anyway. “That your rental?” He nodded at the sleek muscle car that looked very out of place along the cracked and broken sidewalk.
“It’s my fiancé’s spare.”
There he was again. Between them. As he should be. “Nice wheels.” Far nicer than anything he’d ever be able to offer Kelly. She deserved every nice thing.
She shrugged. “It starts when I turn the key. I’m not picky about anything else.”
“Heat? AC?”
She laughed. “Okay. That’s true. A good heater and AC in the summer.” Her phone buzzed in her purse, and she dug it out. “I’m good. I know you have a car to finish. Thanks for being the bunny foot backup.”
Tough waited. He wasn’t walking until she was in her car driving away.
She glanced at her phone, and her face fell.
Chapter 5
Preston had finally decided to text her back. He’d been okay with the accident, as she’d known he would. But she’d also mentioned the warehouse she had agreed to rent, not thinking he would have a problem with it. She hadn’t expected this. She blinked and read the text again.
I would appreciate it if you focus on planning our wedding. Everyone in the Asian delegation has their spouse with them. The new activity center for the kids can wait.
She sighed. They’d tried several times to get a date pinned down for their wedding before he left, although she had never formally accepted his offer. It was more Mrs. Fitzsimmons who was pushing for it. She’d worn the ring, wanting it to feel right. It didn’t. The heaviness that descended on her didn’t feel right either. It had been several weeks, and nothing felt right.
She punched into her phone, ignoring her gut. Tell me what date suits you, and I’ll get it done. I can do both.
It wasn’t long before her phone dinged with an answer. No. The wedding is the priority. I want it to be spectacular.
She bit back a sigh as her fingers flew over the keys. It will be. That’s what I do.
Talk to my mom. She’ll help you.
Of course. I wouldn’t do it without her.
Spend as much as you need to. I want to get the wedding going, and I don’t want you to overextend yourself. Save the world AFTER we’re married.
She typed back, I won’t, ignoring the icky stickiness in her chest.
Now what? She wasn’t going to quit working on the new activity center just because Preston wanted her to. But she had kind of thought she’d have his support and they could talk about it. They hadn’t always talked about everything—he was a very busy man—but he always had great ideas, and she loved that she wasn’t alone.
She dropped her phone back into her purse and dug for her key.
She hadn’t realized Tough was still there until he asked, “Everything okay?”
Her heart jumped, and she put a hand on her chest before turning. “You startled me.” He stood back in the shadows, out of the glow of the streetlights. She squinted to see him.
“Everything okay?” he repeated. His voice was gravelly and deep and, coming out of the darkness like it was, should have been uncomfortable. But it wrapped around her like a comfortable sweatshirt. That was Tough. Unpretentious as an old sweatshirt.
“It’s fine.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and waited.
She rattled the keys in her hand. “Fine. Preston wants me to plan our wedding, and he doesn’t want me renting this building.” She gritted her teeth. Not being born with a silver spoon in her mouth had imparted a fair amount of grit to her personality. Giving up wasn’t something she did well or often.
“Preston tells you what to do?”
“Preston pays for
what I do.” That wasn’t entirely true. Her car had been a gift last Christmas, and of course, he’d picked out and paid for the heavy engagement ring on her finger, but so far, he’d not funded anything for her. He had, however, given generously to her charitable activities. His family had a ton of investments, including a large online media conglomerate, and did give large amounts to charity.
Every time over the past twelve years they’d talked about what a great power couple they’d make, he’d said how she would be the perfect political spouse because of all her charities. She assumed he’d want to help fund them.
“Or doesn’t pay?” Tough said, with a small emphasis on “doesn’t.”
“It’s not really a matter of paying. He wants me to focus on the wedding.”
“You can’t do both?”
“Of course I can.” The words came out with more frustration attached than she meant to allow. It was a temporary thing, happening only until they were married. Preston really was very generous, and he certainly wasn’t a control freak. They’d had an easy friendship for years and an unspoken agreement that they’d be perfect together. She twisted the ring on her finger. It was a spoken agreement now, she supposed, even if the ring didn’t feel right on her hand.
“He just doesn’t want me to ‘overextend’ myself.” She used her fingers to do air quotes.
“Hmm.”
She waited, but Tough didn’t say anymore. “What? You think he’s right?”
“You were planning on his money to rent here?”
“I was planning on his money to keep me from having to go through the government red tape.” It’s not like she was thinking tens of thousands of dollars. “I have enough to rent it but not enough to renovate it, too. Usually I get started on a project, and Preston eventually notices and offers to help. His help is typically monetary.” The idea of Preston with a hammer in his hand was laughable. “But if he wants me to focus on our wedding, he’s not going to be ‘helping.’”
“And now?”
At that question, her starch disappeared, and she slumped against the car, facing Tough. “I’m going to figure that out.” Somehow.
Time ticked by. A car drove slowly up the street. She didn’t turn to look but could almost feel Tough’s interest as he watched. Probably to make sure it wasn’t going to cause any harm to her. Something about that loosened some of the tightness in her chest. She was sure that Preston wanted her to focus on the wedding because that’s what he wanted. It had nothing to do with overextending herself. Tough, on the other hand, truly seemed interested in protecting her for her sake.
“You have other avenues?” he asked, once the car disappeared from sight.
“I can try to go through the community center and the children’s charity. But both of those have boards and budgets and won’t be a quick solution. I was planning on doing this myself because then I have the freedom to make it what I want without getting a bunch of other people involved. Other opinions are nice, but the more people that are involved, the more unwieldly the process gets.”
“I see.”
“Cassidy would probably fund me.” But she was planning a wedding scheduled for next weekend. Kelly couldn’t bother her now.
She might be able to put together a charity gala, but it would take time and money up front. Preston probably wouldn’t be okay with that.
But the kids on this side of town needed a place where they could be supported and helped without being carted across town. She had to make it work, and she would do so, for the kids.
“I can help.”
“What?” She lifted her head and squinted. He still stood out of the light, leaning against the building with his arms crossed over his chest. “You’ll help? How?” She bit back a laugh at the thought of Tough in a tux helping her host a charity gala. Nope. Not going to happen.
“I have money for the rent.”
“I need a security deposit and two months’ rent.” Plus money for renovations. Which she had maybe half. But maybe if she put his money together with hers, it would give her time to plan some kind of charity fundraiser to raise the rest...
“I said I have it.” His tone didn’t change.
Kelly tilted her head. “I can borrow it?”
“No.”
She almost rolled her eyes. Why tell her he had it if he wasn’t going to help her?
“I’m giving it to you.”
“No.” The refusal sprang automatically to her lips.
Without moving, he asked, “Do you want the check now, or do you want to come back for it tomorrow?”
“I’m not taking your money.”
“Okay. I’ll write the check out to Mr. Millard.”
“I’ll pay you back.”
“Maybe you’re not the only person in the world who wants to see the kids have a place to hang out and play and to see them being taken care of by people who care about them?”
It was the longest he’d ever spoken at one time. Kelly closed her mouth. She didn’t want to insult him by calling him poor, and she didn’t want to question his judgment by telling him he couldn’t afford to give her so much. But the fact was he was poor and couldn’t afford to give her that much money. If he were making tons of money, he’d have a garage in the best part of town, a new tow truck, and lots of employees. Obviously, he was still working to get his business off the ground, and she wasn’t going to jeopardize that.
“I appreciate the kind gesture, but let me see what I can do on my end, first.”
He pushed off the wall and took two languid steps toward her. He shoved his hands in his pockets as though to keep from grabbing her. His eyes narrowed and locked on her shoulder.
“You need the money. I offered it. What’s the problem?”
She twisted the keys in her hand and looked away.
“You’ll take Preston’s money without a qualm, but mine isn’t good enough? Is it because I earned it working with these?” He pulled his hands, black grease-stained and dirty, out of his pockets and held them up.
Fine. He was going to get all huffy about it. Well, he wasn’t going to intimidate her. She would tell him the truth. She took two steps forward and leaned over, trying to snag his gaze. “Look at me.” She crossed her arms over her chest and waited.
His eyes, all warm walnut swirl, bounced to hers before twisting away. His shoulders rose, like he was taking a deep breath. A muscle in his eye jumped and popped, but he narrowed them and slammed her with his gaze.
She gasped. Her hand went to her chest as though to stop her heart from jumping out. All the thoughts in her head disappeared as she looked into his eyes. Swirled browns, warm and dark, looked back at her.
How long had she stood there? It felt like years as time ticked by both fast and slow. She was supposed to be saying something, but she couldn’t find the words, couldn’t remember what had just been so important.
“You had something to tell me?” he asked. The words came out deep and low, rolling over her like a soft caress, sending small electric shocks down her back.
She ripped her gaze away and took a moment to gather herself. That reaction was unexpected. Unprecedented. Shocking. Her heart was still not beating normally, and her stomach had knotted like an old pine tree. But she needed to speak.
Clearing her throat, she said as forcefully as she could, ineffective since she couldn’t find the courage to look him in those polished walnut eyes again, “You can’t afford to give that money to me.”
“Isn’t that my call?” he asked in the same low tone.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I won’t allow you to give away what you need.”
“If you were my wife, we’d make the decision together. Since you’re not, you don’t get input.”
Her lungs froze at the word “wife.”
He kept talking. “I’m writing a check out to Mr. Millard tomorrow.”
“It still needs to be fixed up.” She had some money but not enough.
“I’ll help.”
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“What?”
“You get it rented. I’ll help you fix it up.”
She forced herself to look at him, but he wasn’t staring into her eyes anymore, and she couldn’t find the words to argue anyway.
“Now, get in your car and drive. I’ve got a car to finish, but I’m not doing it until you’re safely away.” His eyes met hers for several fleeting moments, and she saw more than she expected in the mahogany depths.
She turned, got in her car, and drove away.
Chapter 6
Tough sipped his coffee and tried to concentrate on the potential questions that had been sent in. Several of his syndications, as well as all his advertisers, were begging him to publish more than once a week. He could do it; he might even be able to publish daily, and that would provide more than triple the income, which would enable him to do more repair work for the elderly for free, which is what he did with the money from the column—bought parts, then donated his time doing what he loved for older people on a fixed income. Who was he kidding? He donated to anyone who couldn’t afford it.
He had enough readers, enough interest, enough men writing in... He enjoyed the column. It started off as a mechanical advice column, just something for him to do in the evening or on slow days when he didn’t have any work in the garage. Somehow his advice hadn’t been limited to cars. And men seemed to appreciate his mechanical analogies, while women loved the way he didn’t hold back in telling the men they were wrong. Years of standing in the shadows, watching, had taught him more than most people learned by experience. When a person watched, they saw both sides. Still, if people found out that he was a mechanic with absolutely no life experience—he’d never even had a girlfriend, let alone any kind of married relationship, and he certainly didn’t have a psychology degree—well, he didn’t want to think about that.
Back in the day, his column had been named Tough Talk. But somehow, it’d gotten shortened to T and someone had stuck a “Dr.” on the front of it. Dr. T. Ha. If they only knew.
If Kelly knew...
Would she think he was ridiculous for daring to write a relationship advice column? Probably. No one else in his life ever believed he could be more than a mechanic/body guy. The fact that he owned his own shop pretty much shocked everyone who knew him. Like if someone doesn’t say much, they’re automatically considered stupid.
Tough Talk Page 5
