“So, you’re one of those, huh?”
She glared back at him over her shoulder. “One of what?”
“I-am-woman-hear-me-roar types,” he said, frowning.
“Really? You get that because I can change my own tire?” She didn’t wait for him to answer. She turned back to the flat, listened for him to walk away, and picked up her lug wrench. No receding footsteps filled her ears. Did he plan to stand there and watch?
Fine. Let him! She’d show him. Hear me roar, my ass!
Lug wrench on, she secured her footing so she could put her weight into loosening the nuts. Then, feeling his eyes boring down her back, hoping it would fuel her strength, she gave it everything she had.
And it didn’t budge. Neither did she.
She kept pushing and pushing, putting every bit of strength she had into the job. Her strength leaked out of her in the form of sweat. One rather large drip rolled down her brow and hung on to the very end of her nose. Finally, she released her hold on the wrench and relaxed her stance.
She waited for his sarcastic remark. She even looked forward to it, hoping it would get her adrenaline up.
He didn’t say a word.
Staring at the lug nut as if it were the enemy, she recalled her father had taken her car in to get her last new tire and some idiot had probably used an impact wrench on the dang nuts.
But she wasn’t giving up yet. Wiping her hands on her jeans, she grabbed the lug wrench and went back in for the kill.
She gave it everything she had.
Her all.
And then some.
It still wasn’t enough. She released the wrench and almost released some unladylike language she’d learned while working at the shop.
She waited for him to say something sarcastic.
Not a word.
Counting to five, she wiped the sweat from her cheek and looked back at him.
He stood there, arms crossed over his wide chest, smiling at her.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
His smile widened. “Yeah. Actually, I am.”
She stood up. “You don’t have to be a smartass.”
“And you didn’t have to be an old battle-ax like my sixth-grade teacher, either, but it didn’t stop you.”
Somewhere between trying to come up with a retort that would put him in his place and mentally berating whoever had changed her tires, she came to her senses.
He was right. She’d been rude.
“Okay, I admit I was… not being nice.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Is that the same as being an old battle-ax?”
She let go of a deep breath and a big chunk of her pride. “Yes, it is. I’m sorry.”
He looked back at her tire and then up at her. “Well, I guess I’ll see you.” He turned away.
“Seriously?” she muttered before she could stop herself.
He turned around and had another big smile on his face. “Nah, I was just giving you a hard time.” Pushing up his sleeves again, he knelt in front of the tire.
He removed the lug wrench hanging from the tire, repositioned it, and put muscle into the job. Lots of muscle. She knew because she saw his biceps bulging under his shirt. She was so caught up in watching his muscles shifting under the light blue cotton, it took her a second to realize he wasn’t having any more luck than she’d had.
She regained some of her damaged pride. “Not so easy, is it?”
He released his hold and looked up at her. “I’m just pretending it’s difficult to make you feel better.” He smiled.
“Right,” she said, knowing he was lying through his teeth.
He reattached the lug wrench, and this time, the nut gave way. He glanced up again. “See.”
She rolled her eyes, and he got busy loosening the other nuts.
When he finished that, the temptation to tell him she could handle it from there was strong. But she was afraid she would come off as being bitchy again, so she bit her lip.
A couple of times during the process, he looked up at her, but he didn’t say anything and neither did she. When the spare tire was in place and the lug nuts tightened, he stood up. “That spare isn’t meant to be driven long. You should get a new tire soon. If you’re nervous about driving on it, I could drive up to get a new tire and put it on for you.”
“I’m fine,” she said, and then, realizing that might have sounded rude, she added, “My dad owns several auto repair shops. I’m not trying to roar, but if the lug nuts hadn’t been on so tight, I could have taken care of it. I worked there for four years before I went to college. I really can change a tire, the oil, and even rebuild a transmission.”
He grinned and reared back on the heels of his shoes. “The woman really can roar. I’m impressed.”
“You’d have been more impressed if someone hadn’t used an impact wrench to tighten my lug nuts.” She grinned. After the smile they shared went a fraction of a second long, she added, “Thanks for your help.”
“You’re welcome.” He loaded everything back into her trunk. When he faced her again, he studied her. Then he touched his cheek. “You’ve got some grease on your face. Not that it doesn’t look good on you. Nothing hotter than a woman who can work on cars.” His green eyes sparkled with sexual innuendo.
Not good, she thought as she reached up and ran her fingers over her cheek.
“It’s still there,” he said. Then, as if reading her nervousness, he waved to his car. “I guess… I should be going. Don’t be running any curbs with that spare.” He held up his hands and shrugged. “Not that you don’t already know that.”
She watched him walk away, and then she turned to her car. She had to give the guy credit for not hitting on her harder. He could have asked her out again, knowing she’d feel too guilty to refuse this time after he’d helped her.
Then she heard footsteps coming behind her. “I forgot to ask.”
Right. She should have expected it. This was just how he’d done it before—walk away and then come back and catch her by surprise. As she turned to face him, her stomach knotted at the thought of having to turn him down. She ignored the slightest undercurrent of temptation to say yes. But it just wasn’t worth the hassle. Definitely not worth the risk.
“You know that book you had for your daughter—Dogs to the Rescue—is it for girls and boys, or just girls?”
She was so set on hearing him ask her out a second time, that it took her a minute to wrap her head around his question.
She nodded. “It could appeal to both.”
“Thanks.” His cell phone rang. He took it out of his shirt pocket and looked at the screen. He muttered something under his breath and jabbed his phone off. Still scowling, he snapped his gaze up at her. “Sorry.” He turned and left.
She got in her car and made it down the block before she couldn’t resist any longer. She reached for her phone and dialed Nikki.
“Hey,” Nikki said.
Ellen bit into her bottom lip. “Don’t think anything of this, but… I was wondering does Rick Clark have kids?”
“Not that I’ve ever heard of. Why?”
“Because… he keeps asking me about kids’ books.”
“Oh, God,” Nikki said. “He’ll say anything to get in your pants. Don’t give him the time of day.”
“I’m not,” Ellen said. But she frowned, not liking how everyone accused him of being one thing but she kept seeing a different side of him. Not that he couldn’t be putting on the front for a reason. Players did that kind of thing, didn’t they?
“Did he ask you out again? You’re not dating him, Ellen. He’s bad news.”
“He didn’t ask me out. And remember, I told you not to make anything of it. Okay, I’m driving, I shouldn’t be talking.” She hung up before Nikki started handing out even more relationship advice. Nikki wasn’t one to talk about relationships. She’d had her own issues and had almost blown things with Dallas because of her fear of getting hurt.
Not t
hat her own situation with Rick had any similarities to Nikki’s. Nikki had been stubborn, but Ellen was… well, she was being smart. Huge difference.
Ellen tightened her fingers around the wheel. “I’m not giving him the time of day,” she muttered, but she couldn’t stop thinking about how good he looked changing her tire.
She thought about him all the way home. Right up until she saw Noel’s car parked in her driveway.
Oh, hell. Not again!
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
AS TEMPTING AS it was to stomp her foot on the gas and squeal away, Ellen didn’t. She parked her Honda on the street, not wanting anything to prevent Noel from leaving. Before she could take her key out of the ignition, Noel got out of his car.
She watched his six-foot-plus frame move toward her. She felt tightness in her gut, not anything like she felt when she’d seen Rick approach. This one came from something akin to hatred. The thought that she’d once believed she’d loved the man made her feel sick.
When she’d gone to him with news of her pregnancy, insecure but believing they were in love, his confession that he was already married had stunned her. But his willingness—some might say eagerness—to pay for the abortion had crushed her.
Hurt and humiliated, she told him she’d take care of it. And she had. She’d packed her bags and went to live in Florida with her aunt. Only when her dad had his heart attack did she move back to Texas.
It was time to come home, too. Britney was three and was missing out on seeing her grandparents. And her parents needed Ellen. For the first six months, being home had been good. But then she’d run into Noel and his wife at the mall. Noel had taken one look at Britney and knew.
The next day, he’d shown up at her parents’ house, furious. “Let me get this straight,” she’d said. “You’re angry because I didn’t kill my child?”
They had argued. She told him to get lost. He did. For six months.
Ellen gripped the steering wheel, and when she looked down she saw her daughter’s book on the passenger seat. Her daughter. It took more than a sperm donation to make a man a father.
After that six months, Noel showed up and insisted on being a part of Britney’s life. He even apologized. He said he and his wife were talking divorce, and he didn’t want her to use his daughter against him. So it might take a while before he could see Britney regularly.
Ellen wasn’t sure she had a right to keep Britney from him, so she agreed. She didn’t like the fact that he planned to keep Britney from his wife. But considering Ellen had wanted nothing to do with him emotionally, she hadn’t argued.
After a few visits, Noel made it clear that it wasn’t just Britney he wanted. She’d put the brakes on that idea fast and hard. At first, Noel played by her rules. Things changed when she met James. James, a divorced plumber who’d worked on her parents’ house, was fun, sexy, and, while it wasn’t serious, Ellen had hopes. But Noel had come unglued. If you’re going to date, couldn’t you find a guy who didn’t unstop toilets for a living?
At the memory, Ellen inhaled and stared at Noel’s car. A nice, rich car. A real shame that money didn’t buy class.
Noel might have insisted she stay away from James, but she wasn’t about to let Noel control her life, so she continued to see James.
A month later, Noel showed up with pictures of her and James having sex in her hot tub. The pictures made two people making love look like something out of a porn movie. Noel made it clear that James had to go, or he was suing for custody of Britney. Noel said he’d told his wife about Britney and she was willing to help him raise her.
Ellen didn’t know if Noel had really told his wife; she hadn’t cared. What mattered was that he threatened to take her daughter away. She went to James with the problem. She thought if Noel used the pictures, James would stand beside her in court proving it hadn’t been a sleazy affair. Instead, James had been upset that she’d had an affair with a married man. Because his ex had cheated on him, he considered Ellen just as bad. It didn’t seem to matter that she hadn’t known Noel was married. James ended their relationship, and she went to see a family friend who was also a lawyer. He’d been brutally honest. If Noel hadn’t been a high-powered attorney, her friend could have guaranteed Ellen that the most Noel could get was joint custody. But with Noel’s power, money, and friends—friends who wore robes and sat on benches—anything was possible.
His threat and the possibility of losing Britney almost had her returning to Florida. But she had refused to abandon her parents. So she told herself that Noel hadn’t won. And for almost three years now, she’d lived her life without seeking his permission. However, whenever she found herself tempted to rejoin the dating game, she’d remember how well her last two attempts had ended up and then realize that no man was worth the possibility of her losing Britney.
Lost in thought, she looked up and was startled to see Noel now standing outside her car; she got out to face him.
“Where have you been?” he asked.
“Helping a friend move,” she said. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
“What do you have all over your clothes and face?” He frowned as if seeing her dirty disgusted him. Oh, how she wished he’d known her when she worked at her dad’s shop.
“I had a flat tire.”
He looked at the car. “Couldn’t you have gotten someone else to change it?”
I did. “I managed.”
“Where’s Britney?” he asked.
“My parents took her to the beach.”
“You know I see her on Sundays.”
She glared at him. “You didn’t come the last two weeks. And she waited for you.” As much as Ellen secretly resented it, Britney loved Noel and the attention he gave her for those few hours a week.
“I couldn’t get away,” he said.
“Well, Britney wanted to go to the beach with her grandparents, and I couldn’t tell her no.”
“Don’t be a bitch,” he snapped.
“When it comes to Britney, I’m allowed. I don’t have to play fair.”
“Fair? You think this is fair to Britney?” He waved toward the house. “You could be living somewhere nice instead of this slum if you’d let me help you. Let me get you a place in Houston. I could see you guys three times as much.”
“It’s called suburban middle-class.” She waved at the house. And I’ve already told you, put the money in a savings account and give it to her when she’s eighteen. And come back later if you want to see her.” She started for the front porch.
“It doesn’t have to be like this between us,” he called out. “We were good together once. It could be good again.”
“I don’t want your money.” She continued walking and muttered, “And I certainly don’t want you.”
Tyler’s grandfather believed he could predict an oncoming storm. Tyler may not know anything about the weather, but he could sense a woman’s scorn faster than anyone else. Probably a learned skill from living with three sisters. And from the way Zoe looked at him, his scorn meter was telling him to duck for cover.
“This is the safe house?” Zoe followed Tyler into the small kitchen the instant Nikki and Dallas had left.
So that was what this was about.
The four of them had spent the last hour visiting. Things had gone fine. But when he and Dallas had come inside from tossing the ball to Bud, Zoe’s mood had changed from tired to somehow ticked-off. And he hadn’t been completely sure why.
He nodded. “This is it.” He’d been thinking about coming clean about that and explaining his reasons for not being completely honest.
“Really?” Her tone, coupled with her body language, warned him that it might be too late. She wasn’t happy. How did that translate for him? How did Zoe Adams deal with unhappiness?
“Yeah.” He opened the fridge and stared inside it, working on a game plan.
“But I thought…” She paused.
“Thought what?” He continued to stare at the mostly
empty fridge. They were going to have to make a food run. His mind gravitated to any subject other than the one making him feel uncomfortable. He’d lied to her. Sort of. Not that he’d had much option at the time.
“Nikki and Dallas just moved out of here,” she said.
“Yes.” He glanced up and didn’t have a clue how to deal with her. She was an unknown to him. He’d never met anyone quite like her.
She stared at him. Her blue eyes tightened, giving her even more of that woman-scorned look.
“And I could swear something was said about you moving in.” Her tone was edgier now.
He ducked back down into the refrigerator and pulled out two beers. He held out one to her, hoping it might be viewed as a peace offering.
“No.”
That look in her eyes pulled at his conscience. He returned one of the bottles to the shelf and shut the door.
“You don’t have a safe house, do you?” she asked.
“More like a safe apartment.” He tossed a little humor at the situation, hoping that would soothe her. Then he faced her. She didn’t look soothed.
It was a stupid move, but he tried a change of subject. “We need to run to my place and pick up some pots and pans and stuff.”
She turned and hotfooted it out of the kitchen, leaving a wake of fury like only a pissed-off woman could leave.
Okay… so this was how Zoe dealt with anger. Running away wasn’t a good method.
It could be worse. She could be a screamer like Lola. Or a crier like Sam.
He debated the wisdom of letting her be alone and took a swig of beer. Then he remembered they’d left the apartment door open, hoping Lucky would venture in. The thought that she could be collecting her cat to leave had him tearing out of the kitchen. He shot into the living room and came to an awkward halt when he spotted her. Just sitting on the sofa—hands folded tightly in her lap.
He waited for her to look at him. She didn’t. The uncomfortable feeling in his chest grew. He’d dealt with and placated irate and scorned sisters most of his life; this should be a piece of cake.
Blame It on Texas Page 13
