Roadside Assistance

by Marie Harte

  He didn’t even bother to hide the fact that he adjusted himself.

  “Jeez, Foley.”

  “Hey, you have it easy. No one knows if you’re hot for a guy. I look at you and get a hard-on. It’s uncomfortable.” He walked out of the kitchen to lean on the counter over the sink. “There. Better now? I’m too far away to make love to you.”

  Make love, not fuck. Semantics, and yet… She flushed. The l-word and Foley kept cropping up in her thoughts, fitting together like the pieces to a puzzle, and it worried the heck out of her. Cyn took time to get to know a man. She didn’t fall in love on a whim or even in an instant. Heck, it had taken her months to feel comfortable with Jon, and he’d turned out to be a mistake in the end. So why this fixation on Foley after only a few weeks?

  She plugged in her mixer and started adding ingredients to a bowl. She hadn’t known what Foley had to cook with, so she’d brought a lot of her own supplies. “Are your friends giving you a hassle because we’re dating?”

  “Nah. Well, maybe a little. How about you?”

  “Matt is still a pain, but since you rescued Vinnie, he’s a lot more in your corner.”

  “Your mom?”

  She frowned. “I don’t know. Over Christmas, she was weird. She acted like you were a bad thing for me, but in the same breath she pretty much said to do my best to hold on to you. If I can, that is.” Cyn sighed. “I love her, but I don’t always like her. That sounds horrible.”

  “It does.”

  “Oh?”

  He hurried to say, “But I get it. My relationship with my mom is different than yours. Hell, it’s different than most guys’. I love my mom and I like her. But I’ve always felt like I need to protect her, you know? Single mom, pain-in-the-ass kid, then add in Sam. She’s always been there for me.”

  “She sounds terrific.” What if she didn’t like Cyn? That would be a deal breaker for Foley.

  “She is. I love her like crazy. I’m worried about this new guy, but I’m trying to keep my nose out of it. Until he steps on his dick. Honestly, the minute this guy gets out of line, I’m going to rearrange his face.”

  She chuckled. “That’s staying out of it?”

  “For me, yeah.” He sipped his beer and watched her. “She wants to meet you.”

  Cyn covered her unease by mixing the cream cheese, sour cream, and sugar mixture. She’d prebaked the crust at home in a spring pan, so she only had to pour the mixture then bake. “She does?”

  “Sam talked about how you shot me down, and my mom wanted to meet this woman with such poor taste.” He grinned at her. “Kidding. She knows we’re dating, and she wants to meet you.” He paused. “I’d like your take on dentist guy.”

  “Jacob,” she said, staring at the cheesecake ingredients in the bowl.

  “Him, yeah. So I was thinking we could go on like a double date with them. She could meet you, and she’ll be on her best behavior trying to look good for Jacob. You can meet him and tell me if the guy seems on the up and up to you.”

  She poured the cheesecake mixture into the pie pan. “You trust my judgment?”

  “Sure. I mean, you think I’m awesome. You’re obviously a good judge of character.”

  She unplugged the mixer and pulled out the beaters. “Here.”

  “Rockin’.” He made short work of them while she imagined his mouth on her body instead of the beaters. She felt overheated, though she’d been careful to wear a shapely dress that both showed off her curves and flared at the knee, which should have given her enough air to cool off.

  But the way Foley was making love to those beaters…

  “Yum.” He glanced at her and froze. “Something wrong? Oh hell, I’m mauling these like a hungry bear, right? I look like an idiot.”

  “N-no.” She cleared her throat. “You look just fine.” She took the beaters before he put his mouth on them again—dear God—and placed them and the bowl in the sink. “Now we wait for dinner to finish.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Yep. Lasagna has another twenty minutes then has to cool. Salad is done, and the dressing is ready to go. I’ll put the dessert in once the oven is free.” She decided to throw caution to the wind and let Foley take charge of the night. “We have time. So what will we do until dinner is ready?”

  * * *

  A loaded question if he’d ever heard one. Foley wanted nothing more than to fuck the hell out of her. That blue dress set off her hair and hugged her curves in all the right places. And she’d worn heels, the kind he wanted on either side of his head while he pounded into her. But Foley wanted her to know he respected her. That he liked her for more than that fine pussy and those breasts he could feast on for days.

  So he remained behind the counter, his erection well hidden, and debated how best to be friendly without being too friendly. “How about a tour of the place?”

  Was it his imagination, or did she look disappointed? No doubt his imagination, because she gave a wide smile. “I’d love it.”

  “This won’t take long,” he warned, forced his dick to stay down with thoughts of his mother, and after a moment gave Cyn the nickel tour. “You’ve seen the kitchen and the living room. Up the stairs is Sam’s room. Mine is down the hall. Oh, and the bathroom is too if you need it.”

  “Just one?”

  “Yeah. Stupid. My mom bitches they should have put two into all the units, but they didn’t. So me and Sam got the place cheap. That and my mom is our landlord.”

  “Nice.” She followed him up the stairs. “Will Sam mind me peeking in his room?”

  “I want you to see what a catch I am. You see his room, you’ll think I’m a prince. Sam—he’s scary.”

  She said nothing after he opened the door.

  He noted the mess had been marginally cleaned up, or as Sam liked to say, “more organized.” Tons of car manuals, auto mags, clothing, tools, and weights had been haphazardly collected into piles and scattered around the room. But the room smelled like…mint? Odd, but better than the dirty-sock stench from the other day.

  “It’s like Stonehenge, only with stuff, not rocks,” she whispered.

  He laughed. “Like Sam-henge. I love the guy, but he hates to let anything go. See those magazines? They’re from ten years ago. He says he’s all about the classics.”

  “Is that Mad Magazine? Oh, and I see a few Playboys and Penthouse Forums, hmm?”

  “He’s a guy, Cyn. Let’s give him a break. Plus I’m pretty sure he just reads those for the articles. I know I do.”

  She gave him a disgruntled look.

  Under another stack, he saw what looked like an empty pet carrier. “What the hell?”

  “Let’s go. I feel like a voyeur looking in here.” She tugged him by the hand. “How about your room?”

  “I was thinking to hold that one for later, but if you insist. We’ve got five minutes. Should be plenty of time.” He gave her a fake leer.

  She popped him in the arm. “Dinner will be ready pretty soon. Your hormones will have to wait.”

  “They’re always waiting. Hell.” He followed her down the stairs, unable to look away from the flounce of her dark red hair over her shoulders. Her hips had a gentle sway when she moved, and that ass just begged to be bitten. Or better yet, slapped hard while he rode her into orgasm.

  Think of Mom. Sam. Jacob. Hmm. Liam and Sophie. Anything.

  Fortunately, by the time they reached his room, he was only semihard. He pushed the door open, glad it no longer smelled like a sweatshop. He’d aired out the place and put a room deodorizer in the corner.

  “Wow. It’s nice in here.”

  He blew out a breath, relieved.

  “Come on. You did this for me, right? You don’t actually make your bed every morning.”

  He felt his cheeks heat. “Um, yeah. I do. Sam says it’s a sickness.”


  “A neat freak. Good to know.” She winked at him, and his heart beat faster.

  “Go ahead. You know you want to look around.”

  “I do.” She studied the dark blue blanket over the queen-size bed, which was small for his taste, but a larger bed wouldn’t fit in the space. He had a dresser, nightstand, and a closet full of jeans, sweatshirts, and T-shirts. And lots of boots. Foley loved boots of all kinds, but mostly the leather, ass-kicking kind.

  “Someone has a lot of shoes.”

  “Boots, Cyn. They’re manly.”

  She laughed at him.

  “Want to see something funny? Open that up,” he dared and pointed to his nightstand.

  She did, and her eyes grew wide. Condoms and a few toys sat, just waiting to be used.

  “Got a few new things just for you, Red. What do you think?”

  Her eyes turned glassy, her breath sped up, and her nipples beaded under her dress. Cyn’s excitement turned him on like nothing else.

  Before she could answer, the oven timer beeped.

  She raced past him out of the room.

  “Saved by the bell, huh?” He rejoined her in the kitchen, only to get a set of orders.

  “No sex talk at the table.”

  “You take the fun out of everything.”

  “Are you hungry?”

  “You bet.” He couldn’t wait. The food smelled amazing. Then he noted the garlic bread in foil on the counter. “Oh man. I think I’m in love.”

  He saw the nervous look in her eyes, realized what he’d said, and hurried to put her at ease. “I’ve never met a garlic bread I didn’t fall in love with. Or a lasagna, for that matter.” He saw her relax. “But garlic? You don’t want us kissing later, is that it?”

  “You know, I hadn’t thought of that.” She shrugged. “Oh well.”

  “Good try. If it comes to that, I have mouthwash and a few tubes of toothpaste. Hey, I like to be prepared. Two things I’m always stocked up on—toothpaste and toilet paper.”

  “Can’t argue with that.” She chuckled. “Foley, you make me laugh.”

  “Better than making you cry.”

  “Remember that when you decide we’re done. It’s much easier to stay friends when you end a relationship in a nice way.”

  His good mood left him. “Is that right?”

  “Yes. Cheating on a woman to show her you’re done, or ghosting, is not cool. At all.”

  “First of all, I’ve never cheated on a woman.” Well, not since he’d left high school. But he didn’t think that should count.

  “Good to know.” She put the bread in the oven, then set food on his plate. Hell, even the salad looked good, and he wasn’t a man fond of too much green with a meal.

  “So what’s ghosting?”

  “You know. When you suddenly cease and desist all contact with a person. Like a ghost, you simply no longer pick up the phone or visit.”

  “No shit? I’d call that a douche move.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Cyn, honey, here’s the deal. When we’re done, it’ll be because you’re tired of me. And that’s a fact.”

  She blinked at him, blushed, then busied herself with the bread in the oven. “That’s what you say now, but—”

  “Hey, I’m your boyfriend. I’m all in.” He figured he might as well give her a heads-up with a truth he was only coming to understand. “I ain’t going nowhere. Especially not since I know you can cook.”

  “That’s a double negative, implying you’re going somewhere.”

  “What?”

  She turned to make a face at him, and they traded barbs. Minutes later, she removed the bread, fiddled with the oven, and put in the cheesecake. “Okay, grammar king, how about some garlic bread?”

  He held out his plate, then waited until she joined him before sitting to eat. He was halfway through his first helping before he realized she hadn’t said a damn thing. “What?” he asked with his mouth full.

  “Do you like it?”

  He forced himself to swallow and slow down. “Are you kidding? I haven’t breathed since inhaling this. It’s hard not to moan and groan over this food. But that would sound too much like sex, and you told me no sex talk, right?” He bit back a grin. “Your cheeks are really pink.”

  “Hush. Eat.” She took a few bites, then relaxed. “It is good.”

  “Soooo good.” He moaned a little, saw her grow even redder, then laughed. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to save any for Sam. Seriously. I could eat that whole pan, and I’m trying to be polite and make sure you get some too.”

  Cyn shook her head. “I’ve seen your appetite in action. I made enough for you and Sam to have leftovers. That’s if you’re nice enough to give him some.”

  “I’ll think about it. Holy shit, Cyn. You can cook.”

  She smiled. “I’m glad you like it.”

  “I love it.”

  I love you.

  Foley shoveled another forkful in his mouth, wondering where to go from here. She’d made leftovers and cheesecake for Sam. That had to be a good sign. God knew it made Foley love her even more. Now he just had to see what his buddy and his mom thought of her, and he’d start looking for rings.

  Rings.

  Oh man. I’m so fucked.

  * * *

  Sam shared a bag of chips with Lou at Lou’s place, which was currently filled with a bunch of women giggling, gabbing in Spanish, and giving him weird looks. He debated the idea of sleeping over. There had to be at least ten women—ranging in age from seven to sixty—in Lou’s kitchen.

  “Dude, what is up in there?” He nodded behind him.

  “Sorry. My grandmother, my aunts, my sister, and a few cousins stopped over. Uninvited,” he said in a louder voice.

  The older woman said something that had big bad Lou sinking deeper in his couch. “You have no idea the hell I live in when I leave the garage,” he whispered. “I’m surrounded by women all the time.”

  Sam stared at this Lou, one he’d never seen before. Lou always acted like a tough guy, so to see him trying to hide from his family was comical. “I know you have four sisters, but—”

  “Yeah, and the mean one is here tonight. My mom has five sisters, and Abuela, my grandmother, lives nearby. You’re talking all these women, who all have kids. And guess what? Only one of my cousins is a boy. It’s like a plague of estrogen that never stops.”

  Sam grunted with amusement and saw one fine-looking woman giving him the eye. Doing Lou’s relative would probably get him killed, though the woman looked more than worth it.

  “No wonder you’re so in touch with your feminine side,” he taunted.

  “Fuck you.”

  “Back at ya. Loser.”

  “I bet I could take you.” Lou stared at him. “Yep. Pinned in less than three minutes.”

  Foley had warned Sam when they’d first started at Webster’s to leave their fellow mechanics alone. No fights, and no mock fights, because Sam had a way of forgetting himself and causing major harm. Which made Foley’s irritation with Sam’s current bout of underground fighting so questionable. Sam needed to vent, and letting off steam by launching or taking a punch was fine with him.

  Unfortunately, Foley didn’t like it. A few minor run-ins with the law had been a little too close for comfort for Foley Sanders. But Sam couldn’t blame him. Like Foley, he’d rather die than go back to prison.

  Sam sighed. “Can’t. Foley told me not to.” At thoughts of his best friend—hell, his brother—he frowned.

  “Speaking of Foley, what’s up with him and Cyn? They looked real cozy at Johnny’s.”

  Sam shrugged. “Hell if I know. I’m here now because he’s got her at the house for a date. She’s fucking cooking for him.”

  “Nice. Good work, Foley.” Lou raised a cheese puff in toast.


  Sam ignored it. “I don’t get why I couldn’t have stuck around. I think I scare her.”

  “Didn’t seem that way to me at Johnny’s.” Lou shrugged. “My bet is Foley wanted some privacy. Pretty hard to love your new lady when your best friend is staring at you.”

  “I would have hid out in my room.”

  “And that’s so much more comfortable, knowing your boyfriend’s roommate is listening at the walls.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Language!” One of the aunts glared at them both from the other room.

  “Sorry,” Sam apologized, and the hot girl giving him looks smiled.

  Lou groaned. “It’s my own house, Tía. And, Stella, quit flirting with Sam.” Lou glared at him, and Sam held up his hands.

  “Hey, I’m not dead. She’s hot.”

  “Hamilton, I swear I’ll—”

  “I promise just to look, not touch.”

  Lou growled.

  “Here. You eat.”

  Sam glanced up to see a tiny old lady wearing an apron, holding out a plate of what looked like tacos. Something tasty but small.

  Lou frowned, asked her something in Spanish, and she responded with a smile. A pretty older woman Sam wouldn’t want to mess with. Especially since everyone in the house seemed to defer to her.

  “Abuela.” Lou nodded at her. “My grandmother thinks that with all those tattoos you must be badass enough to eat one of her famous tacos campechanos. She uses homemade chorizo, and it’s a little spicier than the crap they sell in the stores.”

  “A dare, Lou?” Sam stared at the food, wondering what Foley was eating. “Damn, they look good.” He glanced up at Lou’s grandma and accepted the plate with a nod. “Gracias.”

  “De nada.” She smiled, showing a missing front tooth, which only made her that much cuter.

  He took a few bites, washed the fiery food down with the rest of his beer, and asked for more of everything. Lou’s grandmother seemed pleased as punch to get him more food.

  Once she stepped away, Sam leaned closer to Lou and said in a low voice, “Holy shit, Lou. You eat like this all the time?”

  Lou groaned. “Figures you’d like the food. Now I’ll never get you to leave.”