“As long as he’s got all the safety gear,” Jenny replied, taking a sip of her tea. Lightly sweetened black tea. Still warm enough to be hot. Perfect, she thought with a satisfied sigh.
“But everyone else gets a crack at cutting pipe, too. Bobby says it’ll look good for the camera. So the rest of the kids get to cut junk pipe. And you,” he added, pointing a finger at Seth, “get to carry it all to the shop. Get started.”
“Me? Why?”
“This is the grunt work, kid. And you are the grunt.”
Jenny managed not to laugh at this keen observation. Mumbling under his breath about how this totally wasn’t fair, Seth hauled out a few lengths of pipe and began carrying them to the shop. He dropped one, then another. Juggling the remaining pipe, he tried to kick the pipes on the ground, but only succeeded in stubbing his toe.
“Let him handle it,” Billy said, close to her ear as his massive hand settled on her shoulder and pulled her back—gently—toward the truck.
Too late, she realized she’d gasped, although she would have been hard-pressed to say if her response was out of concern for Seth or because of the sudden pressure of Billy’s touch.
She wanted to squirm—this was different than the last time he’d held her back. Instead of the middle of the well-lit shop, with a camera recording their every move, she was alone with Billy in the dark.
She tensed. Would he press her against the truck’s side, all of those tattooed muscles giving her no place to go? Would he take a kiss from her—or something more? Would she let him?
Good girls didn’t let bad boys take those kisses, and Jenny had spent the past fourteen years being a good girl. Through hard work and dedication, she’d become a respectable woman—not someone who chased rich bad boys.
So why did she want him to kiss her so much?
Darn it all, he didn’t do any of that. Instead, he trailed his hand down her back—which still made her insides quiver, especially when his hand traced the curve of her hips, just above her bottom.
God, she needed to say something. Anything.
“I…” Then she looked up, her gaze meeting Billy’s.
His face was only a few inches from hers, and the look in his eyes melted the part of her brain that was trying to engage in polite conversation.
Billy grinned. Not a full-on display of teeth, just the corners of his mouth moving up in unison, but he looked as if he’d discovered the cookie jar and was about to stick his hand into it.
“This is the part,” he said, his voice rumbling out of his broad chest as he reached up and smoothed her hair away from her face, “where you threaten to feed me to the coyotes.”
Ah. Yes, that was her line. But she was powerless to say that, much less anything else. All she could think was, dance with me. Dance with me and make it worth it.
Then the sound of metal clanging on metal and what was most likely an inappropriate curse word muttered by her son snapped her out of her stupor. Seth was still about, after all. It wouldn’t do to have him see his mother and this man making googly eyes at each other.
She pulled away. It took more effort than she thought it would.
“How you doing?” Billy called out, looking none the worse for wear.
“This is stupid,” came the completely Seth-like response.
“You don’t have to haul metal,” Billy responded, still looking completely unflustered. “You also don’t have to help with the welding. Your call, kid.”
Seth stomped up to the truck, gave Billy the dirty look that was all-too-familiar to Jenny, and grabbed another couple of pipes.
“I carried metal when I was your age,” Billy called out after him. “Builds character.”
“Whatever.”
This time, Jenny did giggle. She should have been irritated that Seth was snotty to Billy, but honestly, it was a relief to know that he wasn’t like that only with her. And to know there were limits to Billy’s ability to charm the boy.
Even if there didn’t appear to be limits on how much he could charm her.
“What?” he asked over the lip of his cup.
“You’re better at this than I thought you would be.”
This hung out there for a moment. Truthfully, he was better at a lot of things than she would have given him credit for. Working with the kids. Managing Seth. Humoring Don.
Making her feel special. That was the biggest surprise of all.
After a heavy pause, he shrugged. “Shop is good for kids.”
“Oh?”
He nodded. “You may have trouble believing this, but I wasn’t exactly a perfect student back when I was his age.”
“No!” she gasped in mock surprise, which made him chuckle. “Actually, neither was I.” After all, she’d already lost her virginity by Seth’s age. That’s how a girl wound up pregnant at fifteen.
But then the silence between them stretched, and she realized that he was staring at her. And she remembered that he’d asked her how old she was, how old Seth was.
“That was a long time ago,” she hurried to add, feeling the kind of shameful embarrassment she hadn’t had time to feel in years. Then, after the words were out, she realized they made her sound old.
Maybe she should drink her tea.
“Interesting,” he muttered as Seth stomped up, grabbed more pipes and hauled them off. When he was out of earshot, Billy continued—by tucking her hair behind her ears again.
There was no way in heck her hair was that messy this early in the morning. But she couldn’t pull away. The pads of his fingertips grazed her earlobe and moved down her jawline with a steady pressure.
“What is?”
“You. I even look at your boy funny, and you’ll rip my liver out and leave it for the vultures. But I look at you?” He leaned in—so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath on the side of her face as his fingers lifted her chin. “I look at you, I ask about you, I touch you—you curl up in your shell, like one of those crabs.”
“I’m not a crab,” she managed to get out.
“Says the woman who promised to feed me to the coyotes.” She could hear the laughter in his voice, even if he wasn’t laughing. A man had no right sounding that sexy. Not when he was only inches from her, not when his fingertips had complete control over her. None.
He was going to kiss her. He was going to kiss her and Seth was going to walk up and see him kissing her and she didn’t know why but she couldn’t let Seth see her like that. She couldn’t. She was a good mom. She did not lose her head over men. Not anymore. So she said the first thing her mind threw up in defense. “Maybe I’m just scared of you.”
The moment the words left her mouth, he pulled back. The sun was up high enough now that she could see the way he shut down—his eyes went blank, almost mean-looking, as he crossed his arms. His whole attitude became one of sullen rebellion.
Seth trudged back up. “Last three,” he said. “Now what?”
Billy looked at her from behind his mask of attitude for a pained moment before his body uncoiled. He grabbed the pipe out of Seth’s hands and took off for the shop at a good clip. “We get to work.”
Jenny watched them go, too stunned to say anything.
What the heck had just happened?
*
Billy had been wrong. That’s all there was to it.
He’d misread Jenny. The huge, wide eyes? The lip biting? The pretty blushes? Not desire. Fear. His own wishful thinking had him thinking she wanted him, when in reality? He scared the crap out of her.
He’d thought she’d been different. Hell, he thought he’d been different—that he wasn’t making the same mistakes judging women that he always made. He’d thought he was getting it right this time.
He’d been wrong. Again.
It wasn’t like this was the first time he’d misjudged a woman. Hell, he’d thought Ashley loved him back when he was young and stupid. He’d loved her, at the very least—loved her and been willing to marry her, even though he’d o
nly been seventeen, even though it had felt like his life would end if he got married and had a baby before he was old enough to vote, much less drink. Then Ashley had gone and had that abortion, had thrown it in his face when he’d been crushed and furious about her doing it without telling him. “I got rid of it because I didn’t want you” is what she’d said during their fight, right before she walked out of his life for good.
Yeah, he’d misjudged women before. Maybe he’d never not misjudged one. Which was why he was thirty-four and still damned alone. Just him and his bikes.
In this foul mood, Billy found himself cutting pointless pipe all damn day long. He got into an argument with Don about whether or not the kids could take their lengths of pipe home as a souvenir. He snarled at Seth when the kid tried to adjust the saw like Billy had shown him the night before. And when Billy’s kid brother Bobby shoved a camera in his face to get him cussing at little kids on film, Billy punched him in the gut.
None of that made him feel any better. If anything, he felt worse. He wanted to hit a bar and drink until he didn’t feel anything at all. He used to do that all the time, back when he was still young. Back when he was trying to forget Ashley and the baby that wasn’t and never would be. Back when he would throw down at the drop of a hat.
Back when the cops knew him on a first-name basis.
Those days were long gone, though. He was too damn busy to spend his time drunk and brawling—he had the business to prove it. A business that provided him with a purpose—and more money than he knew what to do with and the “opportunity” to have his whole life filmed.
Yeah, he was in one hell of a bad mood.
The bell rang back in the main building and kids bailed. Billy sat in the shop, brooding. If Seth knew what was good for him, he’d steer clear today.
Kids never did seem to know what was good for them.
“Um, Billy? Mr. Bolton?” Seth poked his head around the door. “Are we going to weld today? On the frame?”
“No. Go home.”
How had he gotten it so wrong? Of course he scared her. She was a soft, delicate little woman—sensitive and pretty—and he was, well, he was still a badass biker, covered in ink. Nothing would ever be able to change that basic fact—not the money he’d made or how unwillingly famous he’d become.
“I can still sweep up…”
“Go. Home.”
What the hell was wrong with him? He didn’t go for women like Jenny Wawasuck—women who were smart and cared about kids. Who put other people first. The women he normally went for were women who weren’t surprised that Wild Bill Bolton was, in fact, a little wild.
“Look, if this is about this morning, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
Billy’s attention snapped back on Seth as the kid edged into the room. “What?”
Seth looked as if he was on the verge of throwing up. “I wasn’t trying to make you mad. I don’t mind carrying pipes. I won’t complain next time.”
If this were just a misunderstanding between him and Jenny, well, that would suck enough. But the additional layer of the kid mucked everything up. Billy had half a mind to toss the boy out on his rear, but the moment the thought occurred to him, guilt hit him upside the head. Would Cal Horton, his shop teacher in high school, have thrown Billy out because Cal had had a bad day teaching? No. No matter what was going on with Cal, he was there when Billy needed an adult to talk to. If it hadn’t been for Cal, Billy would be rotting in prison. If he weren’t dead.
It wasn’t this kid’s fault that Billy couldn’t read a woman. Even if that woman was the boy’s mother. Damn. “I don’t want to hear a lot of lip.”
Seth’s face brightened. “Understood.”
Billy regarded him for a moment longer. Shop had saved him, back in school—shop and Cal. When Billy had finally made good and done something with his life, he’d promised Cal that he’d pay it forward.
“Suit up, kid. Let’s weld.”
Six
She was just checking on her son. That was all. Not talking to Billy Bolton, not touching Billy Bolton, not even looking at Billy Bolton.
The only person she was concerned with was Seth. That’s how it had been for the past fourteen years. She didn’t have time in her life to have her head spun around by a dangerous man. She didn’t have time to wonder why she said the things she did, why she did the things she did. Her number one priority was shepherding Seth through adolescence and making sure he stayed on the straight and narrow. That’s what good moms did.
Her walking out to the shop after her TAPS meeting had nothing to do with the way Billy’s face changed when he grinned at her or how her body begged her to dance with him every time he traced a finger over her skin. Heavens, it certainly had nothing to do with the way he focused on everything about her with such a laserlike intensity that he could tell she only drank tea by catching her scent.
No, she was not thinking about that. She was thinking about Seth.
The shop door was locked.
She jiggled the doorknob again, but it wasn’t her imagination—the thing was locked tight. Then she noticed the sign on the door—Welding. Do Not Enter—written in a heavy scrawl and fixed to the door with duct tape.
“Seth? Billy? Open up!”
The door swung open. Seth stood there, a welding helmet on his head, the visor part swung up. “What?”
She was a little taken aback by his appearance. Wearing a heavy jacket and an apron so long it covered his feet, he looked like he was dressed for battle, not shop. He looked…almost grown up. “What are you two doing in here?”
He gave her that special teenager look—the one that said she was a complete idiot. “Welding, Mom. Duh. Didn’t you see the sign?” But then he cracked a smile. “It’s so cool!”
Okay, so even if she’d made Billy mad this morning—and she still wasn’t sure what, exactly, had been the straw that broke that camel’s back—it was a relief to know that Billy was still honoring his promise to Seth.
“I want to talk to Billy.”
“We’re busy.” Seth started to close the door on her, but she jammed her foot into the gap and gave him her no-monkey-business look.
“Let me in, Seth.”
“Can’t. Don’t have enough gear for you, and Billy says everyone has to have gear if they’re going to be around welding.”
“Where’s Don?”
“Left after school. Mom, we’re busy.” He started to shut the door on her foot.
“You tell Mr. Bolton I want to talk to him. Now.”
Seth hesitated for a moment before he buckled. “Fine, but you gotta wait here. You don’t have any gear.” At least he left the door open a crack.
Jenny peeked into the shop. Billy was dressed much like Seth was, except Billy’s gear fit him better. The moment he turned his shielded head in her direction, he fired up the blowtorch.
Even though she couldn’t see his eyes behind the darkened glass of his mask, she could feel him staring at her. If he was trying to intimidate her, he was succeeding. When he wanted to, the man could be positively menacing. Nothing she saw before her was even vaguely reminiscent of the thoughtful man who’d brought her tea and whispered in her ear this morning. She swallowed down her nerves. Clearly, she’d angered him. Even more clearly, she wanted to avoid doing that again in the future.
She still wasn’t sure what had set him off. All she’d said was that maybe she was afraid of him. Why would that have upset him so much? It’d only been one little conditional clause, for Pete’s sake—maybe. Because she wasn’t actually afraid of him—she’d just been desperate to keep from kissing him in front of Seth.
Seth clomped over to Billy—from the back, she could see he was wearing huge work boots—and spoke to him. The flame clicked off long enough for Billy to respond—or at least, that’s what it looked like. Then the blowtorch was blowing again. Definitely not a man she had to worry about kissing at this exact moment.
Seth came back over, looking irritat
ed with her. “He’s busy.”
Okay, so he was unhappy with her. But he was still interacting with her son, and she had a right to check in on them. “You tell him I want to talk to him when he’s done being ‘busy.’ I’ll be in my classroom.” Then, rather than wait around for another menacing flash from the blowtorch, she turned and headed back to her room.
The maybe bothered her. He’d heard the maybe, right? He had to have known that she wasn’t being serious, right?
Maybe. Maybe not.
They weren’t done here. Not by a long shot.
*
For the first time in a long time, Billy pulled open the doors to a school and stepped inside.
He couldn’t believe he was doing this—walking into her classroom, on her turf.
It was easy to figure out which room was hers. Only one door was open, only one light was on. Everyone else had left hours ago. She got here first, stayed last. All she did was teach.
Just like all he did was build bikes for insane amounts of money.
He knew that she heard him coming. He’d never been exactly light on his feet. The sound of his steel-toe boots echoed down the otherwise silent halls. There was no turning back. He was all in for this little dressing down or whatever she had in mind—he knew it wouldn’t be pretty.
Taking a deep breath, he turned into her classroom. The first—the only—things he saw were her legs. She was standing on a chair, trying to tack up some sort of border over the blackboard. As she reached over her head and stood on her tiptoes, the length of her calves, below the hem of her skirt, weren’t exactly at eye level, but they were on more prominent display than normal. His blood ran hot. Nice legs. Great legs, he thought before he caught himself. That was exactly the kind of thinking that had gotten him in trouble this morning.
“Oh, good, you’re here,” she said, without turning around. “Can you hold this up for me?” She gestured toward a sagging section of paper. “Please,” she added, almost as an afterthought.
He stood there for a moment—not because he was uncertain of what was going on. That wasn’t it. More like he was admiring her backside, all tight and cupped by her skirt.
Bringing Home the Bachelor Page 5
