by Mazzy King
I’ve had a tough past year, even before the fire took almost everything I had. It turned out to be arson, and those responsible were brought to justice. The meager insurance policy I had was paid out, but the money won’t last forever. And my ex-boyfriend Sam, Lexi’s father, has been threatening to take me to court for custody of her.
I love my daughter more than anything—anything. And if I thought she could have a better, safer life with her father while I get my shit together, I would do what was best for her and make that difficult decision. But I know Sam isn’t making this custody about her. He’s making it about the money—he doesn’t want to pay me child support. He’s got a high-paying corporate gig at a global financial institution downtown and he likes the single, no-strings life. Lexi has always been a string, just like I was.
If he gets custody of her, she’ll basically live with his housekeeper.
I wish I didn’t have to rely on him for the little bit of money he gives me. It’s just enough to cover her daycare costs and that’s pretty much it. I could ask him for more, but I’d rather work my ass off and provide for her than to take an extra cent of his money.
“Roxie?”
A lovely woman with intricate, beaded twists in her hair and wearing the hell out of a gorgeous red sheath dress smiles at me from the front desk. I immediately feel inadequate in the loose blouse, jeans, and heels I’m wearing. The contact at the agency told me it’s a business-casual environment and jeans are acceptable, but now I regret my choice.
The woman steps around the desk, hand outstretched toward me, a warm smile on her face. “Hi. I’m Sunny.”
Sunny Reyes—the owner of the studio.
I shake her hand. “Very pleased to meet you.”
“Welcome to your first day,” she says brightly, lightly patting my arm. “Did the agency explain to you what you’ll be doing?”
“A summary,” I reply. Her warmth puts me at ease.
“You’ll be handling the admin side of our studio,” she tells me. “That includes everything from taking calls, booking appointments, setting meetings with builders, welcoming our guests, answering emails…that sort of thing.”
Old hat to me. The only new part is learning how this business works. “Got it.”
Sunny nods. “I was impressed with your resume. The only reason this job is a temp job is because we go through a lot of people who aren’t good fits because this job demands a high sense of organization.” She chuckles. “Which, I lack myself, to be honest. So, I’m waiting until I find that right person with all the organizational skills to help the studio run efficiently, and then I want to hire them permanently.”
My heart lifts.
“That, of course, includes a raise in pay and benefits,” Sunny adds. “Is working here full-time something you’d be interested in? It’s okay to say no.”
“Of course,” I blurt. I wince inwardly, not wanting to sound overeager. Scratch that—desperate. “I mean, yes, a full-time, permanent position is my goal.”
She smiles. “That’s great to hear. Hopefully you don’t find home design boring.”
She leads me on a tour of the building. Each section focuses on a specific area of a home—bathroom, kitchen, living room, exterior of the house. There are so many things to choose from—everything from style of door to carpet padding to handles for kitchen drawers.
“After a buyer signs the paperwork for a new build and everything gets approved, this is their first stop,” Sunny explains. “We work with a number of builders and have copies of all their floor plans. The design consultants have to be familiar with each layout before appointments, so they know the level of customization and the certain things included with each floorplan. One of your tasks will be to receive the emails from the different builders, schedule the appointment for the buyers, and then put together a packet of information for each consultant ahead of the meeting.”
“I can definitely do that,” I say.
Sunny smiles. “Great. Then, let me show you to your desk.”
For the first time in a long time, I drive to pick up Lexi from daycare with lightness in my heart.
Once I got set up as an employee in the system, I wasted no time. I really want to show Sunny I’m serious about that permanent hire, and that I’m ready to hit the ground running. The work itself isn’t difficult. The only tricky part is learning the new systems.
But apparently, I did a good job, because Sunny thanked me for an awesome first day.
“I have a great feeling about you,” she told me as I left.
The other employees, the consultants, were all welcoming and grateful to have an organized person in the role. It’s a chill, laid-back environment, which is where I thrive.
I’m actually smiling as I sing along to the radio on the way home. Tonight just might be a celebration night, which means Lexi’s favorite meal—macaroni and cheese with hot dog slices. I try to make sure she eats a balanced diet, though she’s as picky as any five-year-old, but every now and then we indulge.
Rush hour traffic grinds to a halt at a traffic light. Sighing, I glance down to adjust the radio station. I glance up at the rearview mirror, and my eyes widen.
A huge black SUV is barreling up behind me and doesn’t look like it’s going to stop.
I drive a little two-seater Sentra.
“Oh, shit,” I hiss, trying to pull up and off to the side, out of its way.
The driver realizes what’s about to happen too late. There’s a scream of tires as he hits the brakes…
…and slams right into the back of me with a loud crunch.
The impact shoves me forward a few feet, but I stopped far enough behind the car in front of me that I avoid kissing their bumper.
There’s a shooting pain in my neck as I’m lurched forward, but I hardly notice it. I have much bigger problems now.
So much for the great day I had.
My phone rings at that moment. I fully intend to ignore it, but it’s Lexi’s daycare.
“Hello?” I say in a shaking voice.
“Ms. Calloway? It’s Rhonda. I have Lexi here waiting to go home, but I have a family emergency and need to leave immediately. Can you tell me what time you’ll be here?”
“I’m on the way now,” I reply, “but I just got rear-ended.”
“Oh.” Rhonda pauses, and I hear the concern in her voice. “Um…”
I squeeze my eyes shut, putting a hand to my forehead. The guy who hit me has gotten out of his car and is walking toward me. “Let me make a phone call, okay? I’ll call you right back.”
I hang up with her and dial another number. Maybe I hit my head. Maybe I’m out of my mind for calling him. But I have a gut feeling he’s the only person I can count on right now.
I have Maddox’s number from when I moved in. He’s basically my landlord, so having his number is important in case I need anything.
That probably didn’t include an emergency favor where my child is concerned.
“Hello?”
“Maddox,” I say.
“What’s wrong?” he asks immediately.
I blink. I tried really hard to keep my voice steady, but apparently, I suck at that. “I, um, I need a favor.” I wince. I hate saying those words. Especially to someone who has already done me a favor.
“Anything you need,” he says, surprising me. “What’s going on? You sound shaken up.”
“I am. I just got rear-ended.”
“Shit. Are you all right? Where are you?”
“Only a couple miles from home, on the main street over by the grocery store. I was heading to pick up Lexi. Her daycare just called, and they need her picked up right away. Do you know the one? Little Bright Suns?”
“Yeah, I know where it is. I’ll go get her.” I hear movement in the background, like he’s already getting up to go do just that. “I was just about to leave work anyway. Can you tell them I’m coming? And then we’ll come to you.”
“Thank you,” I say gratefully. “O
h—she needs a car seat. If you want to swing by the duplex first, there’s an extra one in the garage.”
“On it. I’ll be there as soon as possible.”
“I owe you.”
“No, you don’t. Sit tight.”
I could cry from relief. I call Rhonda back and tell her who’s coming to get Lexi, then get out of my car.
The bumper has fallen off my car. I pray it’s not a total loss. I can’t afford to buy a new car right now, and I can’t afford to not have a car, either.
The driver looks to be in his early twenties, wearing business attire. He begs me not to call the cops, insisting the damage isn’t that bad. I call the cops anyway, making sure to commit his license plate to memory in the event he tries to flee.
Half an hour later, Maddox arrives with Lexi as I’m talking to the cops. Her little face crumples, and I know she’s scared Mommy was in an accident. Even though my neck aches like hell and I’m still shaking, I do my best to put on a happy face for her and smile so she doesn’t worry.
“Mommy’s okay,” I tell her once she’s in my arms. “See? Just fine!”
“That looks scary,” she says in a tiny voice.
Maddox walks past us, already on his cell phone as he checks out the damage to my car. He’s wearing a stained uniform shirt from Roy’s Auto. His hands are clean, but his tattooed forearms are speckled with black grease. I completely forgot he’s a mechanic. Watching him now in mechanic-mode make my heart flutter strangely. His hands are large and look strong. I envision him using them to tend to cars, wipe them down, crank wrenches…
A sudden burst of heat makes me fan myself quickly.
He finishes up his call and walks back to me. “I got a buddy coming who can tow that to my shop.”
“Um,” I start, biting my lip, “about how much would that be?” My voice is as small as Lexi’s.
Maddox gives me a gentle, one-sided smile, his hazel eyes crinkling at the corners, and my heart skips a beat in my chest. Even splattered with motor oil, he’s so incredibly sexy, from his handsome face to the way his biceps strain against the cuffed short sleeves of his Roy’s shirt.
“No charge,” he says softly.
I want to argue, but I can’t.
Maddox turns to Lexi. “So, did you ask her?”
All of a sudden, Lexi beams shyly at him.
The sight of her smile is enough to quell the anxiety in my heart. Everything is worth seeing that smile. “Ask me what?”
She tucks her face against my shoulder, like she used to do when she was a shy baby.
He chuckles. “We thought you might not be up to cooking tonight, so she was supposed to ask you if you could both eat at my house. Pizza and dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets on the menu, and maybe some ice cream for dessert.”
I look up at him, unable to stop tears from filling my eyes as I smile back. “That would be great.”
He gives me a nod. “Everything’s going to be all right.”
Somehow, I believe him.
3
Maddox
Lexi and Roxie wait in the truck while I stand off to the side, watching as my friend Major Whitmore loads Roxie’s bashed Sentra onto a tow truck.
Major just left the Rangers for the reserves after a long deployment, like me. But while I was staff for an infantry unit and based in Kuwait—though I spent more than my fair share on missions in Baghdad—he was doing special operations. If I’m going through the fallout after a less-than-easy deployment, I know he is. He joined my unit a few months back. He outranks me, an E8 to my E6, but he never throws his weight around.
He walks up to me now, giving me his trademark movie-star smile, all white teeth flashing against light brown skin, complete with dimples. People in the unit refer to him as “Michael B. Jordan” based on his likeness to the actor. Major acts like he hates that, but I know better.
“Got her all set up,” he says, hands on his hips. “You’re really going to try to fix this thing? It’s probably worth less than the cost to repair it.”
I lift a shoulder. “She’s got insurance. The cost of the parts will be covered by that, and I won’t charge labor.”
Major lifts his brows. “That’s awfully neighborly of you.”
I cut a sidelong look at him. “It’s not even like that.”
“What? I think it’s really nice of you to help her out like that.” He pauses, smirking. “And if she ends up being your new girlfriend—”
“I’m her landlord,” I interrupt. “She’s got her hands full, trust me.”
“That might be true, but I saw that moony look on your face when you were talking to her.”
“I—” I clench my jaw. “Shut up, Whitmore.”
He laughs, clapping me on the shoulder. “Look, I got it from here. Get her home. This baby’s all yours tomorrow.”
“Thanks, man. Send your invoice straight to me at the shop tomorrow too.”
Major shakes his head. “In the spirit of being neighborly—no charge.” He winks. “You guys have a good one.”
I lift a hand, watching him pull away with her car. I’ll find a way to pay him back—he’s a sucker for a great microbrew.
I turn and head back to the truck. Lexi’s in her car seat in the back, and Roxie’s in the front, twisted around to talk to her.
When I get behind the wheel, she says, “Maddox, I can’t thank you enough. Truly. You’re a blessing.”
A surge of warmth flies through me. “Hey, it’s no problem. This was a rough one.”
She smiles a little wryly. “It was supposed to have been a good day. I started a new job and it went well. I guess this is reality’s way of slapping me back down to earth.”
Damn, that’s bleak, even for me. Does she really feel that way? I glance at her. “You can have good things,” I tell her quietly. “You can have good things and still have crappy things happen. It’s just life.”
She lifts her misty, blue-gray eyes to mine.
I reach over to touch her hand. “It’s just life,” I say again.
She nods, her chin trembling a little.
“Are we going to have pizza now?” Lexi asks.
“That’s right,” I say over my shoulder. “It’s pizza time.”
I hope I’m not overstepping with my dinner invitation, but I figured Roxie wouldn’t feel up to cooking. Besides, I can tell she’s in some kind of pain by the way she keeps rubbing at the back of her neck, where it joins her shoulder. She put on a good face for Lexi to keep her calm, but I can see she’s in discomfort now.
I swing by the store to grab the pizza and the chicken nuggets, along with a small bottle of juice for Lexi, then we head to the duplex.
My sister Blair likes to call me a neat freak, but I just like things orderly and free of dust. I see a look of impressed surprise on Roxie’s face as she glances around once we step inside.
“Blame it on the Army,” I joke.
She only smiles. “Do they do house calls, by any chance?”
I chuckle, then duck into my bedroom to change my clothes and scrub my hands and arms. I walk out a few moments later and hand Roxie the TV remote. “If you want, she can watch some TV while I get dinner ready. I’m pretty sure there’s some kids’ channels on there somewhere.”
Roxie turns on the TV and finds a channel. A brightly colored digital cartoon is already underway, and Lexi crows with excitement, taking a seat in the middle of the sofa. “Yep, her favorite show’s on now. I can give you a hand in the kitchen.”
She follows me into the small space and flicks on the water to wash her hands at the sink. I like the easy way she moves around—it lets me know she’s comfortable, and that makes me comfortable.
“Tell me about your day,” I say, turning on the oven. I offer her a beer, which she accepts.
While the oven heats, she tells me about the new job she started, growing more animated with each word. It’s clear she really likes it already. She asks me about my day, and I regale her with some stories from wo
rking at Roy’s over the years.
Later, as we all sit at my small dining table, I can’t help feeling a rush of…something, looking at Roxie and then at Lexi, chomping her nuggets.
It’s almost like we’re a family.
After dinner, Lexi goes back to her cartoons. Roxie insists on doing the dishes. “It’s the least I can do,” she says firmly in a tone that leaves no room for argument.
So, I have another beer and lean on the counter beside her as she does the dishes.
“I can take you to work tomorrow,” I offer. “It’s no trouble.”
She sighs. “You’ve done so much for me already. Too much.”
“I don’t mind,” I tell her. “I know what it’s like to need help.”
“Okay,” she says. “But only if I get to make you dinner.”
I grin. “Deal.”
In between our chatting, I notice she keeps rubbing at that place on her shoulder. “Whiplash got you, huh?”
“I think so.” She winces, rotating her head and shoulder at the same time. “Damn. He was texting and driving, you know.”
I roll my eyes. “Unsurprising.” I watch her for a beat longer, then set my beer down. “Let me see if I can work that out for you.”
Roxie stills as I step behind her and gently brush her long hair to the side. I start working my fingers against the tense muscle and tendons, feeling the little bunched knots. I press and squeeze with my fingertips, then find a particularly tense area and increase the pressure with my thumb.
She grunts, and I freeze. “Sorry.”
“No, keep going,” she says softly. “If it hurts, that means it’s working.”
I continue massaging her shoulder and neck, and gradually become aware that she’s leaning against my front, her head resting against my shoulder. She’s warm, and I can smell the sweetness of her shampoo and perfume mingling into one heady scent.
This feels…right.
