Never Say Never: McLaughlin Brothers, Book 3

by Ashley Jennifer

  “I know. It’s … I don’t know … symbolic.”

  “As in, if you can figure out how to buy the car, you can figure out how to win back Brooke?”

  “Could be.” I’m growing morose. “Or I could man up and tell her I’m dreaming. I’ll back off, save my money, and try again later.”

  Ryan studies me. “I see—the responsible tactic. Show her you can be reasonable and realistic.”

  “Yeah, ’cause that always excites a woman.”

  “It does, in fact.” Ryan again glances at Calandra, who is animated and smiling. “Women might drool over daring and dramatic guys, but when real life hits, they prefer someone who’s solid as a rock, who will hold them up when they fall and keep the bad people away.”

  “A protector, you mean.”

  “Sure, you can put it that way.”

  “Huh. I tried to protect Brooke, and she shoved me away so fast I fell on my ass. Metaphorically.”

  Ryan’s expression turns reflective. “There’s a difference between protecting and smothering. A fine line. I had to learn it.”

  I let out a breath. “I know. I do too. I probably weigh her down like a wool blanket in August.”

  “What you do is show her you’re choosing the sensible path. That you aren’t looking at the Maserati because you thought buying it would help her out, and you’ve decided not to flash around money you don’t have.”

  “Wait a minute.” I pat my pockets as though searching for pen and paper. “I need to write all this down.”

  Ryan grins. “Don’t bullshit me. Or her. Let things take their course with Brooke. She’s not a woman who wants guys to impress her. She wants them to be themselves.”

  He had Brooke’s character right, I had to admit. Brooke wasn’t bowled over by Simon Lethbridge and his casual wealth, his car collection, his wine. She’d seemed bored by him and instead went to a burger joint with me. That’s a point in my favor.

  “Don’t try to impress her,” I repeat. “I think you have something there. Though I’m calling you on Let things take their course. I remember what you went through to finally win Calandra.”

  Ryan shrugs. “I did let things take their course—but I’m also king of the grand gesture. Remember how Ben proposed to Erin? That was me.”

  “You told him to do that?” I recall how Ben, my introverted older brother, bared his soul in front of an entire theater crowd.

  “Ben worked out the details. I told him to tailor the gesture to Erin, what she loved, what she needed.” Ryan’s smile broadens. “What she couldn’t resist.”

  I see Erin through the windows, standing very close to Ben. As we watch, he cradles her against him, and she rests her head on his shoulder.

  “What Brooke needs,” I repeat softly. “What she can’t resist.”

  “Yep.”

  I throw one arm around Ryan’s shoulders and squeeze, feeling better than I have in a long while. “Thanks, big brother. You’re the best.”

  I turn away and make for the back gate and my car. “Aw,” Ryan’s voice floats after me. “You’re just saying that. ’Cause it’s true.”

  * * *

  “Hey,” I say to Brooke. It’s later, and I’m at home, lying on my bed, my feet propped on the footboard. I call her, and lo and behold, she answers.

  “Hey.” Her voice is soft, focused on mine. She’s not distracted by work, the TV, other guys … At least, I hope not other guys.

  “I might come and see you tomorrow,” I say. “At lunch, of course. Mom would not be happy if I ditched during work hours.”

  “I’ll be working too.”

  “I know.” I sound amazed. “It’s like I read your mind.”

  Brooke laughs, and I wish I was next to her to catch her laughter with my lips. “I’m not always in the showroom on my lunch hour,” she says. “I sometimes meet with clients.”

  “Or drive cars to them. I know.” I rub my eyes and try not to picture her on her bed, wearing nothing but her silken bra and panties. Or maybe a sexy teddy. No, I won’t think of that, because I’ll never sleep. Or walk. Or think. “I’ll show up on the off chance.”

  “Okay. If I’m not there, you can always talk to Mike.”

  “Mmm, not really what I had in mind.”

  “I meant if you have questions about the car.”

  I’ve already made my decision regarding the Ghibli, but I prefer to face her in person. “Mike and I can shoot the breeze about cars, but I’ll be thinking of you.”

  She laughs again, and now I envision her in nothing but the panties. Or maybe those vanish too. Crap, I’ll never sleep now.

  “You are such a shit,” she says.

  “That’s me.”

  “Good night, Austin.”

  “Good night, Brooke.”

  She hangs up the phone and I click mine off. “I love you,” I whisper.

  * * *

  Brooke isn’t there when I arrive at the showroom at half past twelve. I hadn’t really expected her to be. My job doesn’t have super-regular hours either—I never know when I’ll have to take someone out to a meal or for drinks, or drive them to the airport—anything to thank people whose business we truly appreciate.

  Mike greets me. “Austin. Good to see you.”

  “And you. Brooke is out.” A statement, not a question.

  “Yep. She and Raymond went to lunch with a guy who’s buying a custom-built Alpha Romeo. But she left everything with me.”

  “Yeah?” I’m not sure what “everything” he’s talking about.

  “Here you go.” Mike fishes in his desk, emerging with a folder and a key fob. “Sign the last paper and that sweet Maserati is all yours.” He holds up the key fob and drops it into my hand when I thrust it out in confusion. “Congratulations.”

  Chapter Nine

  Austin

  “I don’t understand.” I stare at the fob in my hand, feeling its weight. The trident symbol of Maserati grins up at me.

  “What’s to understand?” Mike asks. “She’s all yours. Well, after you sign this last sheet to accept the loan and make sure your insurance covers the Ghibli as soon as it’s off the lot.”

  Mike pops open the folder, moving his tie out of its way, and hands me a pen. He’s smiling like a proud father, a bit like Ryan, in fact.

  “I came in here to tell Brooke I wouldn’t be taking the car.” My words are wooden, my fingers stiff.

  Mike’s brow furrows. “Not taking it? But your down payment already cleared.”

  “Down payment?”

  Mike flips sheets in the folder. His expression has changed to one of pity, as though I’ve entirely lost my mind and he has to be kind to me.

  “There.” Mike points. “One down payment.”

  I gaze blankly at the form that shows a hefty dollar amount and then the remaining price of the car plus the name of the bank that’s floating the loan. It’s my bank but I don’t remember asking them to start anything. Or writing a check for that much money.

  “This is weird.” I stare at the page as though the ink will evaporate if I gaze at it long enough, then lift my head. “I’m going to be honest with you. I didn’t make this payment.”

  Mike peers at me in concern. “Well, someone did. One of your family, maybe? To surprise you?”

  I might have thought so, but not after my talk last night with Ryan. He isn’t about to part with a dime now that he has a wife and child on the way, and I wouldn’t let him even if he wanted to. My brothers are in similar situations.

  Or maybe … My brothers collectively come through sometimes. On the other hand, they can’t keep a secret worth shit. Not one of them looked guilty or excited at the office this morning, so I doubt they called Brooke and rushed her money for baby brother’s car.

  “Probably not,” I say. I have another idea. I’m not certain why this person would help me out, but he might have an ulterior motive. A motive called Brooke.

  “Let me sign,” I say. If this benefactor wants to part with his mo
ney, fine by me.

  I scribble my name on the relevant paper and then call my insurance company to make certain all is squared away on their end. Because I’m responsible that way. Mike can tell Brooke how steady and dependable I am when she returns.

  “Again, congratulations.” Mike shakes my hand. “She’s a beauty. Take good care of her, all right?”

  “It’ll end up in your shop if I don’t.” I cross my fingers when I say it. The car is amazing and I don’t want a scratch on it.

  Mike walks me out. The Ghibli has been washed and shined, the inside thoroughly cleaned. The mechanics come out to watch me get in and start it up. They love these cars too.

  I want to shout my joy as I drive away, but I contain myself. This car is awesome, and if someone wants to score points with Brooke by making the down payment for me, I’ll let him. And find a way to pay him back.

  I drive south to the Encanto area and find Simon’s house. He’s home, in the garage, revving the Lamborghini.

  “Austin,” Simon sings out when he sees me. He unfolds from the car. “Listen to that. Isn’t she beautiful? Ah, I see you have the Maserati. Brooke talked you into it.”

  “She did.” I take in his roomy garage and the spy cameras and keypads. Simon might not have spent much on his small house, but his garage is like Fort Knox. “I have a favor to ask. I need to pump up security on my own garage. It’s not bad, but this is a high-dollar car, and the number one crime in Phoenix is car theft.”

  “And you want some recommendations? I have great security guys. They know their stuff.”

  “I was thinking more … Could you keep the car here overnight, or until I can increase my security? I’ll pay rent if you want.”

  “Oh, that’s a fine idea. No one will bother it here, and she’ll be in good company.” Simon looks over his small fleet with a gleam of satisfaction. This is one happy man.

  “One question.” I step into the shade of the garage and face him. Simon is about my height, and I can look him straight in the eye. “Did you give me a donation?”

  His brows go up, and wariness enters his stance. “Pardon?”

  “When I went to Brooke’s showroom today, someone had paid the down payment on this car for me. Anonymously. I don’t know many people with that kind of money to throw around, except you. And you seem generous.”

  Simon laughs. “Not that generous, mate. Someone really paid it for you? Your fairy godmother, perhaps?”

  I stop, my thoughts rearranging themselves. I’d fixed on Simon because I remembered how he watched Brooke when she was here. He’d tried to impress her with his generosity by giving her the wine, which I knew was a highly expensive bottle. By making the down payment for the Ghibli, he’d help Brooke make a sale, plus enable her friend—me—to have a great car, earning her praise and making me pathetically grateful to Simon.

  Another laugh, and then Simon grows thoughtful. “Wait, I know who did this.”

  I’m starting to figure it out, but I motion for him to continue.

  “Brooke herself.” Simon grins at me. “It’s exactly the sort of thing she’d do.”

  The idea has been dawning on me once I realize how hilarious Simon finds the thought of him being my benefactor. Brooke has done this. Why?

  To be a good friend? Or to show me she can? Was this a No hard feelings gesture or a See how far I’ve come on my own? statement?

  “The dear girl.” Simon shakes his head. “She’ll do anything for a sale.”

  I snap my attention back to him, annoyed. “What does that mean?”

  Simon’s brows rise. “What it sounds like. Brooke isn’t one to lose. She badgered me for months to buy this.” He pats the top of the Lamborghini. “Well, I shouldn’t say badger. Rather, she used gentle persuasion. But she never let up. And look, it’s in my garage now, my name on the deed.”

  I don’t like the way Simon smirks when he talks about Brooke. I might be reading him wrong, but the innuendo in his tone when he speaks of gentle persuasion makes my blood boil.

  “I hope you’re not disparaging the woman I intend to marry,” I say stiffly.

  Simon’s smile vanishes, and he gapes at me.

  I gape at myself. Where the hell did that come from?

  Maybe it came from me finally admitting I love her. Brooke has always been the one for me.

  Simon shakes his head as though to clear it. “You want to marry Brooke?”

  “Yep.”

  “Wow.” Simon gives me a look of undisguised admiration. “You lucky sod.”

  “I haven’t asked her yet.” My anger abates, as it’s obvious Simon isn’t an indignant rival. “She probably won’t say yes. I’m going to have to convince her.”

  “Worth it, I’d say. You have balls, mate. I admit, I’ve wanted to ask her out, or to maybe have a fling, because … well, she’s beautiful. And has a personality. But marriage. That’s a deep choice.”

  “Or a stupid one.” I grin.

  “No, I can see it. I did when you were both here, but I didn’t want to admit it to myself. You two are good together. But that’s me, an incurable romantic. Have to be, to love these cars, am I right? If there’s anything I can do to help, just give me the word.”

  “I will.” I drag in a breath, the dry heat of an Arizona June filling my lungs.

  A grand gesture, Ryan said. One that is about Brooke, and about me. Something she needs, and something I can give her.

  “Actually, there is one thing …” I explain to Simon, and his face lights up. He grants my request and I leave him.

  As I say goodbye to Simon and the Ghibli and wait for my cab to take me back to the showroom, I know what I’ll do for Brooke. I’ll need my brothers to help me, but this is something they’ll get behind.

  I’ll do it whether it makes her accept me or not, because she does need it.

  What the hell? I’ll take my shot. When it involves Brooke and me, I never say never.

  * * *

  Brooke

  Because I’m running all over the Valley keeping customers happy, I miss Austin both times he’s at the showroom. I know it’s twice, because Mike tells me.

  “He seems happy with the car,” Mike says when I return, breathless and exhausted from my second errand. “But confused. Wondering who made the payment for him. You handled that paperwork.” He leaves the statement open, wanting me to fulfill his curiosity.

  “Confidential,” I say. Mike is crestfallen but takes it in stride.

  “Sure thing, boss.”

  I return home by seven, change into sloppy shorts, T-shirt, and flip flops, put my feet up, and enjoy a glass of cold water.

  I don’t hurry when someone knocks on the door. Could be the neighbor kids selling everything under the sun for their band or sports group or chess club. I can always be counted on to buy something.

  I open the door, putting on my best nice-neighbor face. That façade cracks as soon as I see Austin on the doorstep, silhouetted against the red and gold sky.

  “Hello,” I say neutrally.

  He simply looks at me.

  I can get lost in Austin’s eyes, but this evening I can’t read what’s in them. I know he knows what I did, but I can’t tell how he feels about it.

  I furnished the down payment because I’d seen Austin’s longing for the Ghibli, his resignation and wistfulness when he’d concluded he couldn’t afford it. He never directly stated to me that he couldn’t, but his expression said it all. I wanted to give the car to him to bring back his sparkle. Austin wholeheartedly enjoys things, and I want to see that again.

  I open the door wider. “Want to come in?”

  Austin steps inside, but instead of heading for the living room, he halts against me. Again, he says nothing, only studies me in silence.

  “Wine?” I ask nervously.

  Austin lifts his hand from behind his back, showing me a paper wine bag with a bottle inside. “Brought my own.”

  “Great.” My mouth is dry in spite of all the ice wat
er I’ve just drunk. “Glasses are in the kitchen.”

  “They can wait.”

  Austin remains unmoving, his warmth welcome even in the summer heat. He doesn’t kiss me or touch me, only locks my gaze with his.

  “Nice to see you,” I say softly. I’m not lying—my body is burning with his nearness. I haven’t seen him since yesterday, and I miss him.

  “Why?” he asks.

  I understand what he’s talking about. “Because you really like the car.”

  Austin’s eyes close briefly then open again. “Doesn’t mean I expected you to buy it for me.”

  “I didn’t buy it. I only helped. As a friend.”

  Austin finally shuts the door behind him, closing out the heat of the night.

  “I have some very good friends, including my brothers,” he says. “And they wouldn’t have done that for me.”

  I pry the wine from his grasp and head nervously to the kitchen. “I wanted to.”

  Austin follows me, leaning on the breakfast bar while I locate glasses, just as he had Saturday night. “And I asked why. It ate up any commission you might have earned from the sale.”

  “I don’t care about the commission. I didn’t sell the car to you for that.” The wine is another very good pinot noir, a grand cru from the Côte de Nuits region of Burgundy, and I have the feeling I know where he obtained it.

  “To mark it off your balance sheet?”

  “Austin.” I thump the bottle to the counter and regard him impatiently. “You love that car—it was made for you—and I wanted you to have it. I have a nice chunk of savings, and if I decide to use it to help a friend buy a Maserati, that’s my business.”

  The corners of Austin’s mouth twitch, but I can’t tell whether he’s angry or not. “You do this for all your friends?”

  “No. The special ones only.”

  “Ah, so I’m special to you?”

  I reach for the corkscrew but set it on the counter. “You always have been.” I look straight at him. “Always will be.”