by Cari Z.
“She was, and is, an antiwar, free-loving, pot-smoking, artist hippie. We lived in a commune in California for most of my childhood.” That had lasted for a decade, until his grandmother got sick. At that point they’d moved in with her in New Orleans, and his mother had gotten a job as an elementary school art teacher.
Elliot cradled his chin on one hand. “I don’t quite get how you emerged from that background, Mr. Army-Ranger-Security-Man-Who-Carries-a-Knife-at-All-Times.”
And a gun too, but Lennox thought better of adding that if Elliot hadn’t noticed it. “What can I say? I’m an enigma.” He glanced at his watch and stifled a curse. He’d spent almost as much time talking as he had installing the damn alarm system. If he wasn’t careful, he’d be late picking up Lee. “I’ve got to get going.”
“If you must.” Elliot smiled his bright smile. “Unless there’s something I can do to tempt you into staying?”
Shit, just being with him was more temptation than Lennox had counted on. Maybe if Elliot wasn’t Serena’s boss, maybe if he knew him better, maybe if he didn’t have a date with Lee . . . but none of those things were true. “I can’t.”
“Then I’ll see you off.” Elliot stood up and shook Lennox’s hand. “Thanks for fixing me up with this. I’m sure it will do a world of good for Serena’s peace of mind.”
“I hope it does that for you too.” Lennox barely managed to stifle the protective urge that rose in him to push a little harder, to find out what Elliot was worried about. He handed over his card. “Call me if there are any problems with the system.”
Elliot’s eyes sparkled. “Oh, I certainly will.”
Lennox would bet money that by the end of the weekend one of the sensors would be malfunctioning. He couldn’t quite bring himself to mind. “Good.”
His last word to Elliot would have made for a decent exit, if his truck had bothered to start. Lennox got it going, but almost instantly the engine stopped again, the rough grind of it giving way to a choked mechanical cough before it died altogether.
“Shit,” he muttered, staring blankly at the dash. His clock read five thirty. He tried the engine again. Same thing. “Fucking shit.”
By now Elliot had left his place on the porch and sauntered over to Lennox’s door, a little frown on his face. “That doesn’t sound good,” he said.
“No kidding.”
“Open up the hood.”
Lennox grimaced, his knuckles going white as he tightened his grip on the wheel cover. “I don’t have time for this right now.”
“You have plenty of time, since you’re not going anywhere in a car that won’t start,” Elliot said. “Let me take a look.”
Lennox popped the hood and got out of the car, feeling more than a little useless as Elliot propped it up and started checking various parts of the engine. “It’s dying when you try to start it?” Elliot asked as he inspected the spark plugs.
“It wasn’t before now,” Lennox said, then felt like an idiot for it. This wasn’t Elliot’s fault. “It was rough, but still worked. It hasn’t been smooth at any speed for a while, though.”
“Hmm. You could have a fuel pump problem.”
That couldn’t be good. “Fuck.”
“Try it again?”
Lennox got back in and turned the key. The car started, but died before ten seconds had passed. A third try yielded the same result.
“Probably the pump, but that’s not a quick fix,” Elliot said at last, letting the hood slam back into place. “Should we call you a tow truck?”
Lennox checked his watch, then pressed his fingers into his eyes hard enough to send sparks flaring across the black of his lids. “I don’t have time for a fucking tow; I’m going to be late as it is. I’m sorry,” he added, because he really was. “I don’t mean to be an asshole about this, but things are a little unsteady with me and Lee, and the last thing I need is to run late on her.”
“Better late than not at all,” Elliot pointed out.
“Yeah, but I’ve got no option other than a cab since I can’t use the motorcycle,” Lennox said. “Gaby would let me borrow her car, but she’ll already be at her kickboxing class, and Lee’s stepfather is traveling.” A cab would be expensive, especially since he now had car repairs coming on top of everything else, but . . . “Shit. All right.” He took out his phone and started searching for cab companies. “I’m sorry to have to ask, but can I leave this here for a while?” He glanced up. “I swear I’ll come back tonight and get it towed away.”
Elliot frowned. Why the hell didn’t that expression make him any less attractive? “No, this is silly.”
Lennox resisted the urge to start shouting. “Look, I apologize for the inconvenience, but—”
“No, I mean that you’re actually considering getting a cab for your evening out with your daughter is silly. I’ve got a car―let me drive you.”
Lennox wasn’t quite sure he was hearing this right. “Excuse me?”
“Let me drive you,” Elliot repeated calmly. “The Porsche seems small inside but it seats four. I can take you to pick her up, drop you at a restaurant, and you can call me when you need to move on to the next stop.”
It was too much. “Elliot, I’m not going to ask you to be my chauffeur for the night.”
He shrugged. “You’re not asking; I’m offering. And there’s plenty that I can get done downtown while you and Lee enjoy yourselves. I’d let you take the car if you promised to return it with a full tank, but—”
“No, Jesus no,” Lennox broke in. Elliot looked a little offended, and he raced to explain himself. “I mean no, you can’t just let me take your Porsche. You don’t even know me―of course you can’t do that.”
“I know you enough.” Elliot’s smile was back now. “And we both know Serena. I think she’s as good an insurance policy as anyone could ever ask.”
It was a bad idea. It was a ridiculous idea, letting someone Lennox barely knew drive him to pick up his kid and haul them around, but he was already going to be late. He’d just have to accept being an inconvenience and hope that Lee was okay with the slight change in plans. And that her mother never found out.
“Okay.”
Excerpt from Shockwave’s article:
If there’s one thing I can tell you about McKenzie, it’s that the closest he gets to true genuineness in our interview is when he’s talking about the woman who supposedly set him on his path, Wilhelmina VanAllen. Mentioning her name brings an animation to everything he does, and when he dubs her his muse, I have to believe him.
It probably helps that he lives in the home she left to him, along with the dog she used to own. They knew each other for two weeks, just fourteen days. In that short time she changed his entire future, and he endeared himself enough to her to inherit her personal home ahead of her family members. Was it love at first sight? A closeness born of shared circumstances and life experience? Or is Elliot McKenzie really that good at convincing people to follow his lead?
Five minutes into the drive it became clear that the only person Elliot was going to have to worry about having a good time was himself, because Lennox was completely enthralled—as he should be—with the Porsche. That he wasn’t a car person was obvious, since he’d been ready to throw in the towel instantly when his truck failed to start, but he could evidently appreciate something beautiful. Elliot watched Lennox’s long fingers run over the creamy leather of the seat and the sleek dash, then swallowed and dragged his eyes back front and center. He had a place to be, and an opportunity along with it.
He’d been curious about Lee ever since Serena’s extended family had moved here. Serena had done an actual dance of glee when she found out they were coming, bouncing in place so hard that Elliot had wondered if she was going to fall out of her heels. Lee was Serena’s only niece, and as a consequence, she was a frequent topic of conversation during the slow times at work.
All of that meant Elliot had a better than normal chance to make a good first impression with t
his kid, and he really wanted to pull it off. It would make Serena happy, and it might lift him a little higher in Lennox’s esteem, which would be . . . nice. Very nice.
Elliot was sure at this point that Lennox batted for both teams. No completely straight guy would have let him get away with flirting like that. He had been prepared to reel it in as soon as Lennox told him to back off, or even looked vaguely uncomfortable, but he’d kept playing along. Hell, Lennox hadn’t objected to the most ridiculous and blatant pop-culture references Elliot had been able to muster on short notice. You didn’t have to know anything about Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog to understand the line about penises―the innuendo spoke for itself. That was part of its allure.
Did he want to start something with Lennox West? Elliot didn’t know. He certainly wouldn’t say no to a very athletic night in bed together, but beyond that . . . well, Elliot didn’t deal in anything more permanent than a single tryst nowadays.
So why was he really playing chauffeur now? Elliot brushed the question off and focused on the present. Namely, making sure he was still heading in the right direction. “It’s the next turn?”
“Yeah, and then the first left after that,” Lennox said, leaning back against the headrest and flexing his fingers. “Third house on the left in the cul-de-sac. Look for the basketball hoop in the driveway.”
Elliot turned smoothly, enjoying the feel of so much power under his hands. Serena might tease him about his love affair with his car, but Elliot thought it suited him. Slick, fast, and lovely: clearly the Porsche was his soul mate. “Where are you two doing dinner?”
“Wherever Lee picks out.” Lennox’s phone rang at that moment. “Speak of the devil . . .” He took the call. “Hey, sweetheart.”
Her reply was faint but audible to Elliot. “You’re fifteen minutes late, Dad!”
“I know, I had some car trouble, but I’m literally ten seconds from you now,” Lennox said as Elliot made the second left and slowed down. “You see me?”
“No . . . Wait, are you in the Bond car?”
“Bond car, I like that,” Elliot murmured, and Lennox cast him a little smile before answering Lee. That sly smile dug under Elliot’s skin and lodged against his breastbone, just deep enough to get him revved up. Bastard. He had no fucking idea.
Lennox put his phone away and unbuckled as the car came to a stop in the driveway. A purple-haired kid wearing black tights and a blue sweatshirt walked off the porch, her eyes wide as she took in the car. When she hugged her father, Elliot caught sight of the stylized raven holding a wand in its beak on the back of the hoodie, and he grinned. It was the perfect icebreaker.
“What happened to your truck?” Lee asked as Elliot got out of the car.
“It broke down on my last call of the day. Mr. McKenzie offered to give me a ride to come get you.”
Lee stared at her dad like he was terribly slow. “But Mom’s not here. There’s no other car for us to use.”
“Elliot’s going to drive us to dinner too.”
“Elliot?” Lee turned to him, her expression changing to an odd blend of wariness and excitement. “Are you the Elliot who’s my Aunt Serena’s boss?”
“That’s me,” he affirmed, leaning on the hood of the car. “And I’ve got to say, I love your style, although I’ve always thought I’d be sorted into Slytherin.”
Her eyes went wider. “You’ve seen the movies?”
“Oh yes. I’ve even read the books. Snape is my hero.”
“Snape is my hero too!” Lee said enthusiastically.
Lennox looked between them like he had no idea what they were talking about, which, to be fair, was probably right on. “What’s Slytherin?”
Lee sighed heavily. “Oh my God, Dad, you watched the first Harry Potter movie with me. How can you not remember?” She stuck her hands in her pockets and stepped a little closer to the car. “You’re eating dinner with us, right?” she asked Elliot.
Now it was Lennox’s turn to sigh. Elliot wondered if either of them realized how alike they were. “Manners, Lee. I know for a fact you weren’t raised in a barn. You can’t force the man to eat with us.”
“I’m not forcing him. I’m asking if you asked him to dinner too.”
“I don’t want to interrupt your plans,” Elliot broke in smoothly. “Just tell me where to drop you off and I’ll be happy to oblige.”
“You wouldn’t be interrupting,” Lee insisted. “It would be fun. I want to know more about Aunt Serena’s job. It sounds so cool, but Mom doesn’t like me to talk to her about it.” She was clearly bursting at the seams to explain why her mother had forbidden Serena’s work as a topic of conversation, but Elliot already knew. He was, after all, very aware of his own reputation.
“Lee—”
“Dad, come on!” They stared each other down silently, and Elliot held his breath. Finally Lennox turned to him.
“We’d love to have you join us for dinner,” he said, the invitation flowing off his tongue like music to Elliot’s ears, “but please don’t feel obliged.”
“I’d be happy to join you,” Elliot replied. “As long as neither of you mind.”
“I don’t!” Lee chimed in victoriously.
“Not at all,” Lennox said, shaking his head a little ruefully. “The least I can do is feed you after hijacking your car for the night.”
“I completely agree,” Elliot said airily. “It’ll be nothing but steak au poivre and champagne for me this evening.”
“What’s steak au poivre?” Lee asked.
“Oh, it’s delicious,” Elliot promised her. “You’ll love it.”
Apparently his recommendation was enough to sway her to his side, and ten minutes later they were sitting in a booth at a steak house. Lee and Lennox took up one half, leaving Elliot on his own. That was fine. He could fill any space he found himself in.
They ordered dinner and got their drinks—iced tea instead of champagne, sadly, since he was driving and Lennox seemed like the type to be anal about combining cars and even a small amount of alcohol—and then Elliot made the first move. “It’s nice to finally put a face to a name, Lee. Your Aunt Serena talks about you all the time.”
Lee brightened. “Really?”
“Oh, absolutely. She always talks about how wonderful you are at everything you set your mind to. It’s enough to make a person worry for their own ego.”
“Surely not you,” Lennox said, before taking a drink of his own iced tea. Elliot refused to let himself get distracted by how the man’s lips wrapped around a straw.
“My ego is very healthy,” Elliot agreed instead, “but I can’t put things together the way Lee can, apparently. Serena says you’re great at puzzles.”
“And word games,” she said. No false modesty there. “And chess.”
Lennox seemed a little stunned as he turned to her. “Since when do you play chess?”
“Since Marcus taught me when I was eight? And I’ve been kicking his ass at it ever since I was nine. You know this, Dad. I’ve told you, like, twenty times.”
Hmm, a brewing argument. Elliot wondered if he should intervene, but Lennox beat him to the mark. “I’ve been hit in the head too often to keep it in there, I guess. And watch your language, kid.”
“Learn to duck, old man,” she teased him, and just like that they were back on an even keel. Elliot was impressed. He’d done his best as a child, first with his parents and then with his siblings, to keep the infighting between them all to an absolute minimum. He’d failed more often than not.
“A boxing dad, a kickboxing mom . . . Lee, are you secretly a ninja?” Like your dad was at your age, he wanted to add but didn’t. It wasn’t his story to tell if she didn’t know.
“I wish,” Lee almost moaned. “A ninja would almost be as good as a wizard, but Mom still wants me to go back to ballet.”
Lennox frowned. “You hated ballet.”
“I know! It hurt my feet and the only show I ever got to be in was the stupid Nutcracker. Eve
ry year, the Nutcracker.” She leaned her cheek on her fist and sighed gustily. “Mom wants me to try out for the Colorado Ballet, and she won’t take no for an answer. She says I need extracurriculars.” The sheer disgust on her face spoke volumes about what she thought of that. “I asked if I could do circus arts instead and she said no.”
“What, like a clown?”
Lee wrinkled her nose. “No, like trapeze, Dad.”
Lennox frowned. “Your mom might have a point. I’m not sure how I feel about you going up on a trapeze.”
“It’s only a low trapeze to start with, though!”
“I dated a clown once,” Elliot broke in. Both of the Wests stared at him, and he grinned. “He was a busker on the Sixteenth Street Mall who could juggle knives and clubs and flaming torches all while balanced on an eight-foot-tall unicycle. The guy wasn’t much of a conversationalist, but—” Elliot cut off his normal digression into boy was he good at multitasking, if you know what I mean and finished with, “but I learned a few fun things.”
“Really?” Lee seemed intrigued. “Did he teach you how to juggle?”
“Only balls,” Elliot said, because there was a genuine limit to how innuendo-free he could be in one evening, and he’d apparently hit it. He managed an innocent look for Lennox when the man raised an eyebrow. “You know, the soft ones. Like hacky sacks.”
It all went right over Lee’s head, thank god. “I tried to learn to do that, but I wasn’t very good at it. There’s a boy at my school who can juggle knives! He goes to the circus-arts place too, only once he was juggling barefoot out in front of school and he missed one of the knives and it went straight down into his foot. He wouldn’t let us call the nurse for him. He just walked himself to her office and left bloody footprints all over the place. It was gross,” she said admiringly.
“Jesus Christ.” Lennox rubbed his forehead. “Promise me you won’t start trying to juggle knives without me there to help you out, okay?”
Lee looked skeptically at him. “How would you help, Dad?”
“I’d stand off to the side and tell you not to do it, that’s how.”
