by Brandon Witt
I wasn’t. But I always thought I was up for DIY before I actually started the task. Besides, the last thing I needed was six foot four of fireman working in my driveway, shirtless… sweaty…. The image that materialized in my mind didn’t have red hair. Fantasy Jordan wielded the wrench like a pro, the musculature in his back working under tanned, satiny skin. I tracked a droplet down his back, snaking down the hard plane and disappearing into his shorts.
“Grrr,” I growled audibly, frustrated. I didn’t know what his rear looked like. But it was my fantasy, after all.
To oblige me, he hooked his thumbs in the waistband and eased them down, down far enough to see the muscled globes, perfectly shaped and toned, with enough plumpness to warrant a good slap. I sighed. All this time I’d imagined Jordan fucking me. How small-minded. What narrow vision. This was an ass to fuck. To bite—
“Mac?”
I looked up to find most of the table staring at me. The delicious taste of suntanned, dewy skin disappeared, and I tasted a bitter tang. My teeth were sunk clear into one of the limes, peel and all.
I cleared my throat. “Sorry about that.”
“Okay, this blind date is officially over,” my brother grumbled. “Growling and biting limes… goddamn, I’m good, but I’m not a magician.”
I sent him a glare that should have had him sizzling like a skillet meal at Applebee’s and scooted off my stool. “Bathroom,” I announced to no one in particular.
The line outside of the bathroom was long enough to make me gnash my teeth, but I’d never been keen on pissing on a bush like a shepherd if I could help it. So I waited, jiggling foot to foot every now and again and trying not to gawk at the couple in front of me, making use of their wait time by exploring each other’s jean pockets. For change, probably. I turned slightly to the side to avoid the show, and some dude behind me with spiky hair decided the back of my head looked friendly enough.
“Wassup, dude?” was all he managed before I turned back to the Spice channel in front of me.
“They’re going at it, huh?” Spiky Hair whispered close to my ear, leaving a trace of booze-scented air behind.
I pulled out my phone and tried to look industrious. I scrolled through my contacts, adding details I could have lived without. When I came to Jordan’s name, I paused. Pressed the arrow for call. Pressed End quickly.
“What the hell are you doing?” I shook my head at my own audacity. “Calling a client at a bar? Randomly?”
“At—” I checked my watch. “—2:00 a.m.?”
We’re not friends. There’s not even the possibility of more. I lectured myself sternly as the line moved by three people. Spiky Hair took advantage of the line shift to brush against my ass, and I gave him a narrowed eye. He held up his hands innocently, blinking rapidly.
One call and I’d banish him from my mind. You can even make it about business, I rationalized. I still hadn’t told him about Rachel’s strange behavior this morning. I beamed at my own ingenuity and pressed his name on the screen.
After a few rings, he answered, his voice husky and low. “Channing.”
Oh jeez, I was in trouble. I ignored the tight clench of my stomach and tried to answer the phone like a functioning human being. “It’s Mackenzie,” I offered and then smacked myself in the forehead. Lame. Unless his phone was from the Stone Age, it had caller ID.
“I know who it is,” he said, and this time I could hear the amusement in his voice. “Do you know what time it is?”
“It’s only two o’clock, grandpop.”
He made a sound halfway between a groan and a laugh. “Talk to me when you have a six-thirty hearing.”
I was ridiculously glad I had something to tell him so I could keep him on the phone. “I figured I’d give you an update about today.”
“Right now?” His voice sounded smothered by the pillow, and I knew I was being rude. But I didn’t want to let him go.
“I’ll be quick.”
“Hmmmph.” Resigned sigh. Then silence.
“Jordan. Jordan!”
“What?” he croaked.
“You fell asleep.”
“All right, all right,” he groused. “Go ahead. Give your bloody update.”
“I don’t know where she went, but she wasn’t going to work.”
“What happened?”
“I lost her somewhere on the freeway.”
His reaction was unexpected. He burst out laughing. “Please tell me you weren’t following her in that hunk of junk you call a truck.”
“Don’t laugh at me, Jordan.” Despite my words, I could feel a smile tugging at my lips. “I couldn’t have caught that woman on the back of a silver bullet.”
“You couldn’t catch a cold in that truck.”
“You haven’t even ridden in it,” I protested. “She’s been good to me.”
“She must be nearby,” he deadpanned. “Think she’s listening?”
“Actually, she’s not working right now,” I said archly. “She’s resting in my driveway.”
His guffaw made the annoyance of Bessie almost bearable. I’d try to remember this feeling when I tried to jump-start her in the morning.
Another line shift had Spiky Hair, aka Handsy, bumping into my butt again, hands outstretched.
“Hands off,” I barked in my best cop voice, and suddenly I had a wide berth. I knew that he’d felt my gun—the asshole had gotten a real good feel this time. “And no, I’m not just happy to see you.”
“Sorry,” he said, holding up his hands placatingly.
“Where are you?” Jordan asked curiously, bringing me back to my conversation.
“A pub,” I said, turning back to the front. “My brother helped tow my truck home, so I owed him. When he invited me out, I felt too guilty not to go.”
“I hear you. Guilt is the only reason I’m using a week of vacation time for the annual family ski trip this year.”
“Oh, the hardship, Channing.”
“I’m from Dearborn, not Vail.”
That made me smile. “Still. Skiing sounds so glam to me. Probably because I’ve only seen snow one time.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I spent Christmas with my grandmother one year in Ohio. She woke Robby and I up at three in the morning and said, ‘It’s snowin’ boys. First snow of the season, just for my two angels.’”
“She sounds wonderful.”
“She was.” It seemed like everything soft and wonderful and miraculous came from my mother’s side of the family. My grandmother from my father’s side, still alive and kickin’, that old bat used to take a switch to my hide regularly. Before I got too melancholy, I finished the story. “I went outside and said, ‘So this is snow.’ And then I dashed back inside to burrow under the covers for the rest of my visit.”
He laughed. “Pansy Florida boys.”
“You’re next,” Spiky Hair said helpfully, still maintaining his distance, and I growled.
“Damn. I gotta go, my turn in the john.”
“Okay. Have… fun?”
“Cute, Channing.”
I was surprised to realize I didn’t want to hang up. Didn’t want to end the connection. It suddenly struck me that I’d rather be sitting at his kitchen table, talking more about the snow and our families, than go back out in the pub with the boys. I didn’t want to be anywhere else right now, or be talking to anyone else. It was sobering.
“I’ll call you with more news,” I said, my tone businesslike.
“You know, we’re having a barbecue on Saturday. Sort of a welcome to the firm kind of thing for a new associate. You should come.”
“Why?”
“Why not?”
I stared at the phone for a minute, letting all the reasons tick by in my head. I could come up with ten so far, the least of which being that I couldn’t be around Jordan for three seconds without my body responding to all that eye candy. I also found lawyers rather dry. Stuffy. And the only thing that would be worse than listening to a
n evening of stuffy conversation would be doing it sporting a hard-on. Besides, Trevor might show up, and then I’d have to push him into the barbecue pit. I’d imagine the penalty would be high for doing something like that.
“Thanks for the invite, but I’m going to have to decline.”
“It would certainly be a good opportunity for you to observe Rachel. She’ll be there.”
“So this would be a work thing?” I asked, my eyebrows arched even though he couldn’t see me.
“No. Not exactly.” He sounded adorably flustered. “Just think on it, all right?”
I thought on it all right. I thought about it as I reentered the smoky pub and parked my butt on a stool at the bar. I thought about it clear into my third Guinness and my long walk to the car, where I leaned on the bumper of Robert’s Charger, smoking my one cigarette of the day. One, I reminded myself as I almost gave my fingertips second degree burns trying to make it last.
The neighborhood wasn’t the best, but I couldn’t rouse myself to be suspicious. I felt smooth inside. Liquid. Relaxed. It was a good night to fuck. I shook my head quickly to clear it. No, since I wasn’t getting laid, I supposed it would be better to think of something benign. Hmmm, it was a good night to sleep in a hammock with a hat over your face. There.
I saw Robert approaching from the corner of my eye and waved lazily. “Over here.”
“I see you.” He stopped in front of me, neon lights from the corner store drawing crazy patterns on his face. “You should have waited inside. It’s dangerous out here.”
“Nobody told you to park on the corner of Murder and Rapeville. Besides—” I patted my back hip. “—I’m carrying.”
“Still.”
“Thank you, Officer Busybody, but I was a cop too. I’m good.”
He made no mention of my leg or why I might not be as good as I was. “I said good-bye to Darcy.”
“He is your friend.” I blew a smoke ring out of the corner of my mouth by twitching my lips, not turning my head. I knew he got some in his face, but he didn’t flinch.
“He’s a nice guy, Mac. Someone who wouldn’t break your heart like that… that—”
“Jackass? Dumbass? Loser?”
His lips quirked. “No lack of nouns, huh?”
“You got it.”
“I got his card for you. Just in case.”
“Since when do firemen have cards?” I grinned a little. “Does it have a little cartoon dancing fire? Call us at 911 when you smell something burning? Visit us online at whyareyoustillinthehouse dot com?”
“He fixes computers on the side.” He held up a card between two fingertips, and I glared a little.
He stared back at me, his hazel eyes so much like my own it was scary. I knew that look too. Steady and determined. I sighed and then smiled a little. He was a bonehead, but he was still my brother. Still cared about me, even when I’d told him I was gay. “Accepted me” would be a mild term for it. Hell, he set me up on a date, my objections aside. I didn’t know whether it was the Guinness or the earlier nostalgia from reminiscing about Grandma, but I was all out of fight. I took it from his fingertips and slid it into my hip pocket.
He smiled. “Ready?”
“You sure you’re green-lighted to drive, Chief?”
And that’s as long as our truce lasted.
He held out a finger. “A, stop calling me Chief. You always do that when you’re buzzed.” Another finger shot up to join the first. “B, I had one beer. And three, put that damned thing out before you burn your fingers.”
“It’s C. Not three,” I murmured, sliding into the car. I tossed what was basically smoldering ash by this point onto the pavement, and the wind blew it apart gently.
“What?”
“Nothing.” I slammed the car door.
“You know that stuff is pure poison,” he said, tuning the radio to something low and country. Someone murmuring something about a dirt country road, with smoke blowing out the windows and cold beer in the console. Memory lane up in the headlights….
I closed my eyes a little and then a lot, molding my body into the leather.
“I don’t know why you do hurtful things to yourself.” I felt his hands buckle my seat belt with a click.
Losing Nicholas. Loving Trevor for all that wasted time. Letting myself fall in like with Jordan. Setting myself up for heartbreak.
“Who knows why we do the things we do,” I murmured. I was no longer talking about just the smoking.
My brother isn’t always the lunkhead I make him out to be. He left it alone.
Chapter 9
“GO AROUND!” I shouted at the impatient car behind me, and as if that was the signal the idiot driver was waiting for, he zoomed around my truck. I don’t know how much more of a sign he needed—the flat tire and me standing outside with my hair on end really ought to have done it.
“Hello, this is Lorna with AAA. How can I help you?”
You can stop being so damn perky. “Yeah, I need a tow.”
“I’d be happy to help you with that, sir. Are you in a safe place?”
I snorted. “Not really.”
“Would you like me to send the police to your location?”
My luck, it’d be Robert. “No!” I practically shouted and then added a saner “No, thank you.”
I heard the cheerful clatter of the keyboard as she keyed in something. “And how are you doing this fine day?”
I pulled the phone out from my damp neck and looked at it. “Seriously? I’m stuck in an intersection in the middle of buttcrack and who knows where, and the only good thing is that I’ll probably be killed from the idiot drivers waiting two seconds before they’re about to smash into my bumper before swerving over. There! Another just did it!” I shook my fist at the offender even as I heard silence in my ear.
Then clickety-clickety-clack typing began again. Customer has a bad attitude. Like a junkyard dog, I imagined her typing. To her credit, Lorna was just as pleasant, if hesitant, as she got the rest of my required information. I was as polite as possible to make up for my outburst, but it was too late. I’d let up the window shade to my crazy for just a second, and once you see the crazy, you can’t go back. She promised me a ninety-minute window that had me grinding my teeth, and we disconnected, each equally relieved to be done with the other.
I checked my phone battery before dialing another number quickly. It took me three tries, but I finally got through to Drew.
“How long do you think you’ll be?”
“Couple hours, maybe? I don’t have a spare. Probably have her towed.”
“You need a ride?” I heard the bing, bing, bing of his car as he stuck the key in the ignition and slammed the door.
“No, I’m not too far. You take care of the Blakes.”
“Will do. I’m on my way to Mrs. Blake’s yoga class. They should be out in twenty minutes.”
“No downward dog jokes right now, Drew. I’m not in the mood.”
He laughed. “Poor baby. Call me if you need me.”
“You know I will.”
I made three more calls while I sat in the stuffy cab of my truck waiting on AAA. Two were return calls and a message for Jordan cancelling our two o’clock. By the time I’d cleaned up my cab and locked all my valuables in my silver cargo box, I was calmer. I heard a smooth engine pull up behind me and honk. Miserable cur.
I didn’t look up until the car honked again, and I swallowed the curse working its way out of my mouth. “Go arou—”
The hot sun reflected off the silver car’s gleaming paint, slick and shimmery, and I had to shade my eyes briefly before I could see the driver. Even though I fixed my face in a frown, waiting for his approach, I couldn’t deny my heart gave an eager thump. He looked, quite simply put, delicious—his black and charcoal gray argyle shirt a perfect complement to flawlessly tailored black slacks. He looked like he’d just left court—probably had—and come straight to help me out.
I gave him the universal greetin
g of gratitude. “What are you doing here?”
Jordan gave me a look that said I wasn’t too bright. “I figured, despite your pointed, numerous protests on my voice mail, that you might need a ride.”
All right, so I had a hard time asking for help. So what?
“I’m getting it towed. No big.”
The look remained. “You don’t have a spare?”
“If I had a spare, would I be….” I took a deep, cleansing breath. “No.”
He didn’t say a word about how irresponsible that was. And he didn’t know the half of it. I didn’t even have my jack. I wasn’t about to volunteer that little bit of information. Not that he appeared to be waiting for my excuses. He had already squatted down by the tire, and was currently flicking a finger across the flayed tread.
I let the heavy cargo lid fall and joined him in the front. “You know something about tires?”
“No.” He smiled, and I was briefly entranced by his movie-star teeth. “But I can lean in and stare with the best of ’em.”
A startled laugh burst free, and I swiped a hand over my face. Embarrassed.
“You want me to wait with you?” he asked, raking back hair that fell forward over his mirrored aviators.
I shrugged. “Up to you.”
“Oh my. That didn’t sound like a thank you at all.”
His sarcasm made me laugh, and I groaned, scrubbing a hand down my face. “Sorry. It’s been one hell of a day.”
“Tell me,” he said simply, and boy was I tempted.
I was tempted to tell him how much today had sucked and how much I wanted to smoke. How I was messing up at work and falling for this totally inappropriate guy that smelled like sunshine and looked like sin.
I shook my head. “It’s getting better now.” And that was part of the problem.
It should have been miserable waiting there, especially when AAA trumped their own record for lateness. In truth, it seemed like no time at all. I was almost annoyed when the tow truck finally arrived. Glad when I found out the nearest auto store was within my free tow miles. Jazzed when Jordan offered to give me a ride. The proper thing to do would have been to turn him down, and thank him graciously for the offer. Which didn’t explain how we wound up cooling our heels in the auto store waiting room, waiting for my tire change. I also requested an alignment and rotation. Because I needed one. I swear. Not because it would give me extra time to hang out with Jordan. Hell, if they needed to take the entire truck apart, they should go right ahead.
