by Katie Ashley
Huffing, Ellie replied, “Ever heard of a phone call or text? You two could have at least FaceTimed me.”
I shook my head. “It wasn’t the kind of story I wanted to tell over the phone or a text, least of all on FaceTime.”
“What happened?”
After drawing in a deep breath, I filled Ellie in on my rendezvous with Gabe. She sat in such rapt attention, I wasn’t sure she even stopped to blink. Once I finished, she slowly shook her head back and forth. “I cannot believe you turned him down.”
Clanking her fork noisily on her plate, Kennedy huffed, “I swear, sometimes I think you would give a serial killer a chance if he was hot enough.”
“Gabe Renard is not a serial killer,” Ellie countered.
“No, but he’s an arrogant dickhead,” Kennedy shot back.
“That’s an understatement,” I murmured.
“Weren’t you at least tempted to go out with him?” Ellie asked.
With a sigh, I ran my hands over my face. “Of course I was. I’m not blind—I saw perfectly well with my own eyes how good-looking he is.”
Ellie nodded. “Not to mention rich and famous.”
“Thanks for reminding me.” The last thing I wanted was to ever be seen with Gabe. While being famous certainly had its perks, it also had a downside. I never wanted my face splashed across the internet, not to mention print magazines. Nasty memes created about my boobs or my ass, derogatory posts about me being a single mom—hell no. There was no way I would expose Linc to that.
I shook my head. “But at the end of the day, I do have my pride. He only wanted a one-night stand from me.”
“You don’t know that.”
Kennedy groaned. “Stop being such a romantic. Do you actually think someone like Gabe Renard is looking for a relationship?”
“You never know. He tours with the guys in Runaway Train, and they’re all married.”
“Considering his twin brother is single also, I’d say the Renard brothers are commitment-phobes,” Kennedy said.
Ellie frowned. “I just wish you’d given him a chance.”
“The last time I gave a musician a chance, I got knocked up at seventeen.” Eyeing the clock on the stove, I winced. “I don’t have time to talk about this anymore. If I don’t light a fire under Linc, he’s going to be late for school.”
“Just answer one thing for me before you go,” Ellie said.
“What?”
With a wicked grin, she asked, “How good was Gabe in your dream?”
“Multiple Os.”
“Oh yeah, my favorite kind of Os.”
“What’s an O?” Linc suddenly asked from the doorway.
As Ellie and I shrieked and jumped in our chairs at his appearance, Kennedy spewed out the espresso she’d just drank. When I finally recovered enough to find my voice, I said, “Nothing you need to know about. Hurry up and sit down for your breakfast.”
Before he could question me any further, I popped out of my chair to give it to Linc. I then made a mad dash out of the kitchen to both grab a shower and escape my mortification.
It was nothing short of miraculous that in forty-five minutes, I got Linc and myself out the door, but some how I managed to do it. “Why didn’t you take the wrecker back last night?” Linc asked as we headed down the porch steps.
Because I needed to haul ass home to talk to your aunt about this hot, arrogant rocker guy asking me out. “I knew I needed to get back home to make sure you finished your project,” I replied. Inwardly, I patted myself on the back for coming up with a quick, clever reply.
Linc grumbled something under his breath as he hoisted himself up into the cab of the wrecker. We made a quick trip down Main Street and over to Hart and Daughter. When I pulled around back, I wasn’t too surprised to see my father’s pickup already in the lot.
Two years ago, he’d been in a serious car accident which caused him to suffered a traumatic brain injury as well as a shattered pelvis. He spent months in rehab relearning basic skills, as well as how to walk again. Since he would never be one hundred percent again, he had turned the entirety of Hart and Daughter Wreckers over to me. Nowadays, he came to the shop to lend his expertise, but mostly it was to hang out and shoot the shit with some of the other retired men. He also considered it an important part of his continued rehabilitation to walk Lincoln to school every day.
I grabbed my purse and then headed in the back door while Linc stayed outside. Most of the guys arrived somewhere between seven and eight, even though we didn’t officially open until nine. Scanning the group for my dad, I finally spotted him in front of a BMW that needed a new front fender.
Leaning in, I gave him a smacking kiss on the cheek. “Morning, Daddy.”
“Morning, sweetheart. I went ahead and put on a pot of coffee for you.”
“My hero,” I teased as I crossed the room for more caffeine.
“Linc outside?”
Taking one of the plastic cups, I poured myself some joe. “Yep, ready and waiting. I’m sure he’s out there giving Demo some love.”
“Speaking of waiting, there’s a man here to see you. I went ahead and told him to have a seat in your office.”
Furrowing my brows, I blew rivulets into the steaming coffee. “Don’t tell me it’s Flannigan’s trying to sell us used parts again.”
Dad shook his head. “His name is Gabe.”
The cup slipped through my fingers and sloshed onto the floor. “D-Did you say Gabe?”
With his brows disappearing into his forehead, Dad asked, “Are you okay, sweetheart?”
“I’m fine.”
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I couldn’t exactly explain to my father that while Gabe wasn’t a ghost, he certainly haunted my sex dreams. After taking a few seconds to get ahold of myself, I grabbed a wad of napkins and started mopping up the coffee. When I glanced up from cleaning, Dad was staring quizzically at me. “He’s just an old acquaintance I’m not looking forward to seeing,” I lied.
“Need me to come in with you for backup?”
Smiling, I gave Dad a pat on the back. “I think I can handle it. Besides, you need to get Linc to school.”
“If you’re sure.”
“I am.”
“Hey Abe, can you come over here and give me your opinion on this sealant?” one of the men called.
Dad glanced at his watch before replying, “Yeah, but you better make it quick. I gotta get Linc to school by 8:15.” He smiled at me. “Don’t worry, I’ll get him there on time.”
“I wasn’t doubting you.”
After watching Dad hustle across the room, I drew in a deep breath and threw my shoulders back before flinging open my office door. Sitting in one of my ratty office chairs that I always meant to replace was Gabe.
“What in the hell are you doing here?” I demanded.
He flashed his sexy-as-hell grin. “And good morning to you, too.”
“Forget the bullshit pleasantries and cut to the chase.”
“Won’t you sit down?” he asked.
“In case you missed it, this is my office, and I’ll sit down when I damn well please.”
“Man, who pissed in your Cheerios this morning?”
“Excuse me?”
“I just meant it seems as though you woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”
“I woke up just fine, thank you very much. It’s my present company that’s pissing me off.”
Gabe held up his hands. “Look, I’m truly sorry if I offended you yesterday.”
“I’m thinking you’re sorry I bruised your inflated ego, not that you offended me,” I countered.
“I really need to talk to you. Can you please give me just five minutes?”
“Unless there’s something else wrong with your Jeep, we have nothing to talk about.”
“My Jeep is fine.”
I jerked my thumb at the door. “Then have a lovely day.”
“Are you always this infuriating, or is
the universe just really fucking with me?”
“If anyone is infuriating, it’s you. I’m pretty sure I made myself abundantly clear last night when I told you I didn’t want to sleep with you.”
“I’m not here to ask you to sleep with me again.”
“You’re not?” I asked. I hoped my surprise masked the slight disappointment I felt that he wasn’t there to ask me out again.
Shaking his head, Gabe said, “I have a different proposition for you.”
“Why do I not like the sound of this?”
Gabe huffed out a frustrated breath. “Would you please just sit down for a minute?”
“Fine.” Slowly, I walked around the side of my desk before plopping down in my chair.
After sitting for a few seconds in stony silence, Gabe said, “Your dad’s a cool guy.”
“Yes, he is.”
“He was kind enough to keep me company when I first got here, not to mention hospitable. He told me all the places where I could eat in town.”
“That’s my dad, always kind to the stranger—and the undeserving.”
A smirk curved his lips. “Talk about not looking the type.”
“What does that mean?”
“I would have never pegged you for being a football player.”
Inwardly, I groaned at the thought of Gabe seeing Dad’s pride wall in the far corner of the shop. There were pictures of all the accomplishments of his daughters, as well as Linc. There were also framed prints of the newspaper articles about when I joined the football team. “Your dad told me all about how you went from playing soccer to being the kicker. I don’t think I’ve ever met a female football player.”
“I’m sure you would prefer the thoughts of me in a cheerleader skirt, right?”
“Actually your arena football uniform was far racier than a cheerleading one,” he replied with a wink.
Ugh. Like I really wanted to be reminded of the days I’d played in the league by someone like Gabe. In my defense, it was a good way to stay in shape, and the extra money helped out. That said, I seriously needed to take those pictures down and burn them. If it wasn’t Gabe leering at them, it was one of the other men in town. Raising my brows, I said, “Why don’t you nix the bullshit and get to the point?”
“Fine. Do you remember yesterday when I told you about how I’ve been having so much trouble songwriting?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, last night, I was able to write not one, but three songs.”
“While I applaud you, I’m not sure what this has to do with me.”
“It has everything to with you. You inspired them.”
The conviction of his tone had me sitting up straighter in my chair. I blinked at him in disbelief as I tried processing the enormity of what he had just said to me. “Let me get this straight: you believe I helped inspire the songs you wrote?”
“Without a doubt in my mind.”
The only reply I could manage was, “Wow.”
I’m sure you’ve heard artists use the term muse before.”
“I have.”
“After the hell I’ve been through with writer’s block the last few months, there’s not a doubt in my mind that you are my muse, Rae.”
Holy shit. A rich and handsome musician was sitting before me professing that I was his creative muse. Things like that just didn’t happen—at least they never had for me. My ex had never called me his muse or told me I was inspiring. The only thing I’d inspired in him was the ability to blow out of town and never look back.
“I would be lying if I said I wasn’t totally flattered by what you’re saying.”
Gabe leaned forward in his chair. “I didn’t come here to flatter you. I came to here to ask you to continue feeding my muse.”
“Just exactly how would I do that?”
“By spending time with me.”
I widened my eyes at him. “You can’t be serious.”
“Trust me, I wouldn’t be throwing myself on the mercy of a woman who rejected me if I wasn’t.”
Sitting back in my chair, I surveyed Gabe. Gone was the cocky and arrogant man who had hit on me the day before. In his place seemed to sit a much more sincere and down-to-earth person. I wondered if his truer self was more like my first impression, and now he was merely putting on an act to get in my good graces. After all, he knew full well what I thought of the previous day’s man.
“You think by hanging out with me, you could write even more songs?”
“I know it sounds crazy, but there’s something about just being in your presence that inspires me.”
Nibbling on my bottom lip, I replied, “I don’t know. I mean, I’d like to help, but I do have a very busy life. I’m not quite sure how I would fit time in to be your muse.”
“I’m willing to compensate you for your time.”
My eyes bulged. “Like a hooker?”
Gabe scowled. “Of course not. I’m not paying to fuck you, just to hang out with you.”
“I’m sorry, but something about a man paying for my time screams prostitute.”
“Look, I’m just trying to make this beneficial for you.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I remarked, “It sounds pretty desperate.”
Lightning-quick anger flashed in Gabe’s eyes. “Trust me, nothing short of extreme desperation would ever have me begging any woman, least of all you.” Ouch.
While there had been a part of me that had softened to Gabe’s plight, his last statement caused it to shrivel up and die. “For being an alleged songwriter, you certainly don’t know how to say the right words to benefit your case.”
Gabe grimaced as he raked a hand through his hair. “Okay, so maybe that didn’t come out like I meant it to.”
“I’m pretty sure you said exactly what you truly feel. Because of your lack of respect for women, there is no amount of money you could offer that would induce me to spend time with you.” Rising out of my chair, I motioned to the door. “Now I’d like you to leave.”
A barrage of emotions came over Gabe’s face—anger, fear, sadness, panic—before he finally settled on frustration. While I expected a much harsher response, he merely replied, “Thank you for hearing me out.” He then rose to his feet and calmly walked out of my office.
Once he was gone, I collapsed back into my chair. I brought my hands to my head, which was swimming from my encounter with Gabe. What the hell just happened? Had I done the right thing in turning him away? Had I let my past with Ryan sabotage me in the present? “Yeah, keep blaming yourself, Rae. I’m pretty sure Gabe is the one at fault here,” I muttered to myself.
“…there’s not a doubt in my mind that you are my muse, Rae.” Gabe’s voice echoed through my mind. He had been able to write a song for the first time in months. I told him off and left him to fend for himself in the backwoods, and somehow because of all of that, he’d written a song.
A song.
After what had just occurred, there was no way I was going to be able to concentrate on my work, at least not until I headed over to Harts and Flowers and unburdened myself to Kennedy and Ellie. Grabbing my keys, I headed for the door.
For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, Reagan Hart had annihilated me. Of course, I had no one but myself to blame. I had been a glutton for punishment by attempting to see her a second time.
When I started out of Rae’s office and into the service center, I bumped into someone. “Ow,” they cried. Realizing none of the men around would say ow, I glanced behind me. A kid was rubbing his head where I must have beaned him with my elbow.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
As I resumed stalking out of the service center, the boy called “Hey Mr. Renard!”
I whirled around. “What do you want, Opie?”
His dark brows knitted together. “Uh, my name’s not Opie.”
“I didn’t think it was.”
“Then why did you call me that?”
“It�
�s called sarcasm, kid.” When he continued to give me a blank look, I added, “’Cause you’re a small-town kid like Opie off The Andy Griffith Show.”
“The show in black and white that my Papa watches?”
“That’s the one.”
Opie extended his hand, which I reluctantly shook. “My name’s Linc. Well, it’s really Lincoln, but everybody calls me Linc.”
“Good to know.”
Even though I picked up my pace, he fell in step beside me. “Do you really want to hang out with Rae?”
“I must be crazy as hell, but yeah, I do.”
“But she turned you down flat.”
“How do you know that?”
He gave me a sheepish grin. “I was standing outside her office while you guys were talking.”
“So you’re not only nosy, you’re also a creeper.”
“I didn’t mean to listen. I was waiting for my grandpa.”
“Is there a point to you telling me you’re a snoop?”
Linc nodded. “I was thinking you need a middle man to get on Rae’s good side.”
After the last twenty-four hours of rejection and runaround, my patience was wearing extremely thin. “Kid, I don’t have time for games.”
“It’s not a game, I swear.”
“Then what?”
Linc cocked his head. “If I could get Rae to hang out with you, would you do something for me?”
“You’re serious?”
“Yes sir.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I said, “And what mystical power do you have over Rae that would make her want to hang out with me?
Linc grinned triumphantly. “I’m her son.”
Holy shit. Rae had a kid? I’d never even stopped to think that she might be a mom, but it went without saying that she was definitely a MILF. Now that I knew Linc was Rae’s son, I could see the resemblance. “How old are you?”
“I turn ten next month.”
“She doesn’t look old enough to be your mom,” I remarked, more to myself than to Linc.
“She was seventeen when I was born.”
“That explains it.” So Rae had been a teen mom before MTV had made it cool.
Scratching my chin, I narrowed my eyes at Linc. “If you know your mom doesn’t want to hang out with me, why are you willing to help?”
