by Leanne Davis
She stared down at her clasped hands. She slowly nodded. Tears filled her eyes. She finally lifted her face to acknowledge him, “Yes. He led to many of my doubts.”
He ran his hands through his hair and blew a lungful of air out of his mouth. “Jesus. I don’t believe this. I don’t know what to say or do. You broke up with me because of him.”
“No. Not because of him. Because I realized something was wrong for me to even feel things about someone else. Whether it was your brother or not.”
“How is it then you feel about him,” Trent sneered.
She shook her head. “It’s over now. I just felt confused by him. And that led me to feel confused about us, and about my entire life.”
He started pacing. “I keep telling your father, you just need space. To let you be. Let you work this out. All you might need is a summer off to be young and free. I truly believed you’d come back to me. To what we planned on. But now I find you here.”
She shut her eyes. “I did this. I know I did. I didn’t tell you because the rest of it was true. I don’t know what I want. I don’t know if I want to get married. Or work at Andrews Enterprises… or even if I want to stay here in Almstad. I just don’t know. I don’t blame you. You have every right to hate me.”
He jerked his gaze to hers. “That’s the sad part. I don’t hate you.”
“It’s nothing less than I deserve.”
“I still think you’re going through a huge adjustment. I keep thinking, you’ll realize what you want, and I will never believe it’s to live with some mechanic in a crappy apartment.”
“I don’t know any more today about what I want than I did when I ruined everything.”
He straightened his back. “I don’t believe we are ruined. Not yet. Hopefully, not ever. I hate this. But I don’t for a second believe this is what you want. I think you are so confused right now, you don’t know what you’re doing.”
“It’s not a contest. There is nothing between Jason and I. There is only the fact that I live here.”
“Don’t be fooled by him. He’s a huge mistake. I should have told you the whole story.”
“He told me. I know he was in prison.”
Trent’s expression switched to puzzlement. Obviously he wanted to ask her why had she ever sought him out. “He isn’t a good person. He’s dangerous. He is a convicted felon. Don’t for a second lose sight of that.”
He turned on his heel. “I still want to see you. Despite all this, call me if when you want company. Or if you need anything. Promise me you’ll still call me.”
“I don’t see why you would want me to.”
He stopped dead and slowly turned back around. His gaze sought hers out. “Because, Christine, I’m in love with you. No matter what you’ve done, that hasn’t changed.” He turned and shut the door softly behind him.
She stared after the closed door. What had she done? What had she given up?
Chapter Ten
Jason slid out from under the car he was fixing the water pump on when a pair of men’s black dress shoes came into view. The creeper he lay on squeaked as his head cleared the bottom edge of the red sedan. He found himself gazing up at Trent Gallagher, who stood with his legs spread, hands on his hips, and glaring down at him. Trent’s tie was loosened and his shirt untucked. He’d never witnessed his brother looking less than designer-perfect. He set the wrench down with a clank next to him and held Trent’s eye as he got off the creeper and rose up. They stood ten feet apart. He glanced up towards the apartment. No doubt what had just gone on. There was also no doubt he was not going to get in a fight with his stupid brother over a girl he wasn’t even with.
The silence stretched on and on. It was as if Trent had already said her name. Christine. There was no other reason Trent would be there, staring at Jason, ready to kill him. “What do you want to do about it?”
Trent’s fury was palpable. “I should beat the living shit out of you.”
“Yeah, you should. I would if I were you.”
His expression changed. He probably hadn’t expect Jason to agree with him. “Did you get a kick out of it? Did you pretend you were me? Pretend you had a father who wanted you, and beautiful woman who loved you?”
Jason fisted his hand. “You have her still. She doesn’t want me anymore than I want to be wanted by your father. Nothing has changed here, Trent. We still are not brothers. And she will get her act together and go home soon. Back to you. So skip this. Skip this display of theatrics neither of us need. I don’t want your fiancée, and you know she’ll be back to you. So just go home and wait.”
“What made you think you could even put your hands on her?”
“What did she tell you?”
“Nothing. But I’m not stupid. I’m not naive. I know you had everything to do with her sudden metamorphosis into someone neither I nor her own parents know. You were at the engagement party she mysteriously disappeared from. It was you. All of that is you. And you sure as shit are the reason she is living here.”
He rolled his eyes and stepped past Trent out of the garage bay. He took a cigarette out and lit it under Trent’s glare. “I wanted her to back the hell off me and her stupid quest to make you and I have a conversation. I’m thinking this isn’t, however, what she had in mind.”
“You used her to get back at me and Dad. You’re vile piece of nothing. She’s young and innocent. She didn’t deserve this.”
“She’s not that young, and I didn’t do anything to her.” Nor was she all that innocent, but he didn’t mention that fact. What did Trent think? That he’d taken advantage of Christine? Had Trent ever met her? Who took advantage of Christine Andrews? No one. Ever. Unless she wanted them to.
“He’s right.”
Jason and Trent whipped around as Christine came up to them. His heart tripped at her voice, at her presence. He turned his face from her. Why did he always react to her?
She stopped between them. They dwarfed her. They stood eye to eye at six-foot-two. She stood almost a foot shorter. She swung her gaze between them. She visibly swallowed. “He’s right, Trent. He didn’t pursue me.”
She rubbed her palms on her jeans. She bit her lip. Her nerves were physically evident. “It’s not a triangle. It’s my mistakes. You aren’t going to fight your brother.”
She glanced up at him. Jason’s stomach clenched. He wanted to grab her, hug her, protect her. Her cheeks were red with embarrassment and her eyes bright with unshed tears. She was ashamed. And he hated her feeling that way. He hated the way her shoulders dropped in defeat and the way she gazed up at Trent with utter sorrow. He wanted to hold her and soothe her. But that was not how this story was going to play out. So instead he met her gaze with a cool, blank stare. He took a drag off his cigarette and didn’t move an inch towards her.
The blush over her face deepened at his non-reaction. She thought he didn’t care. But wasn’t that better than continuing an attraction that would never lead anywhere?
“Please, just go home, Trent. Please.” She shut her eyes and whispered softly, “I deserve the anger, not Jason. He was just… I don’t know, the catalyst to make me do what I’ve done. It really wasn’t his fault.”
Trent stared at her. He then turned and stomped off to his car. His tires screeched as he pulled out of the lot. Christine watched his car go. She glanced at Jason, then shook her head and quickly ran up the stairs to disappear.
He let out a breath and threw the cigarette to the pavement. God damn, he had never meant to be in such a position. Or to have unexplained feelings for the last woman in the world he had business having them for.
****
It was a week later when they came into view at the bottom of the steps. Jason was hidden by the evening shadows that were stretching off the overhang he customarily smoked under. He knew it was Christine and Trent before he saw them. There they stood, talking to each other. Trent brushed a stray strand of hair off of Christine’s face. He ground his teeth together and tossed his
cigarette butt into the dumpster behind him. He lit another.
She kissed Trent, albeit chastely on the cheek, but kissed him all the same. Trent spun around, dashed to his car with a wave and sped off. She watched him until he disappeared around the corner. She started to turn and head upstairs when she spotted him.
“Lurking in dark corners now, Jason? Or just spying?”
“Just didn’t want to interrupt you and my brother.”
Her gaze moved over him as he stepped closer. He wished he wasn’t in greasy coveralls with grimy hands. When compared to Trent, he looked as bad as a sewer rat set next to a Persian cat. Obvious who she’d want to be kissing.
“Still killing yourself one cigarette at a time?”
“Keep on wishing for it; it’ll be a long wait.”
“Still as charming as ever, aren’t you? Tell me, just what exactly are you doing here?”
“Taking a break. I work here, remember? Like I’d spy on you and Trent. That’s the last thing I need to see.”
“Why? You want nothing to do with me.”
“No. I want nothing to do with an engaged woman. Especially one who is technically going to become my sister-in-law.” He waved his hand in the direction Trent had disappeared. “So, how did you get him to forgive you?”
She shook her head. “It’s none of your business. Just let it go.”
He took a long, purposeful drag off the cigarette, just because it bugged her. “What does that mean?”
“It means it’s lucky for me you have no reason whatsoever to talk to me. I’m no longer a factor in your familial standoff.”
She started to climb up the stairs.
He reached up and grabbed her hand before she could leave. She glared down at where his hand linked with hers before she gave him a dirty look.
“What do you mean, you’re no longer a factor? Wasn’t that Trent just leaving your apartment?”
“It was,” she said, shaking her head. She bit her lip and dropped her gaze. Hell, were those tears shimmering on her eyelids? “Look, just forget it. It doesn’t matter what I’m doing. And it especially doesn’t matter to you.”
She shook her head, yanked her hand away from him, and proceeded up the stairs, her anger and hatred palpable. He nearly flinched. She possibly disliked him more than Trent or Peggy. What exactly had she meant that he was no longer a factor? Had she broken it off with Trent?
He flicked his cigarette onto the ground. Even if they did break up, it changed nothing for him. She was still Christine Andrews, heiress; and he was still Jason Malone, mechanic. And archaic as it was, there was too much that stood between them. No matter how much it bugged him that she chose to live above the garage that he worked at, where she was always accessible to him, where it was impossible for him to forget about her.
****
Christine wilted against the door after she shut it. Seeing Jason had stirred her up; about eighty percent more than seeing Trent. She knew the minute she’d detected the cigarette glow that it was Jason. And in that moment she had realized that the evening she’d just spent with Trent had been a total mistake. Her hostility towards Jason came from a more honest place than her placid, nearly fake politeness with Trent.
Jason had caught her nearly red-handed. Still, she felt sick with regret over what she’d done tonight.
She’d severely misjudged tonight. She’d known it the moment things had gone too far with Trent, and now she knew clearly that Trent was not who she wanted on any level in her life. Unfortunately, she’d just given Trent the complete opposite idea.
When, in fact, for her, being with Trent tonight had solidified what the last few weeks had taught her: she didn’t love him. She liked him as a platonic friend, a co-worker, almost as a brother; but not as a lover. The knowledge made her shutter. Tonight had been a huge mistake. Was she ever going to stop being afraid to want what she wanted? She had to stop falling into old habits, old pressures, and old ways of life she didn’t want.
Jason made her heart do jumping jacks in her chest. How could she be attracted to him even though she knew what he was like? How could the sight of him, big and hulking in the shadows turn her on, when Trent’s care and concern had done nothing for her?
She pushed off the door and walked aimlessly into the bedroom, unsure of what to do next. He left her feeling all stirred up with no place to put it.
She sometimes doubted her prior conviction that her life as an Andrews was so wrong for her, wondering if maybe it all had been prompted by cold feet and getting done with school. For the first time in her life she had no defined path in front of her. She’d finished high school, gone off to college—which, of course, was to propel her career into working for her father.
Now that it was here, it all felt completely wrong.
And Trent... He was who she had called the last few years whenever anything was wrong. Old habits were harder to break than she thought. He was being so nice and understanding about all the crazy stuff she had done to him of late. Even about living here. The fact that he’d come here and not say another word about Jason Malone’s presence... Well, it made it hard for her to find fault with Trent.
She had invited him over for company. They had watched a movie and things had been good. Relaxed. Fun. Easy. And familiar. It was easy to let him hold her hand. Easier still to let him kiss her. And then things went way too far. She shut her eyes in horror as her gaze landed on her mussed bedspread. She rushed forward, grabbed all her bedding, and dashed to the washing machine with it. Throwing it in, she watched as the water bubbled and sputtered. She wished she could wash her mistakes away as easily.
****
Jason couldn’t get them—most especially her—out of his head. He kept replaying Trent casually leaving Christine’s apartment in his head. He wondered why Trent had been there. He wondered where things stood with them. And what they were to each other. Every time he pictured them kissing at the bottom of the stairs, the image sent something coursing through him. He refused to acknowledge the feeling might be jealousy.
Seeing them casually saying goodnight had a lot more impact than seeing them together all dressed up at their formal engagement party. It had finally seemed real.
Christine was engaged, or soon-to-be-again engaged, to Trent.
What, then, did he himself want with Christine? He had turned her down flat for sex. He had made no effort to break her up from Trent. What did he want? And why did he care so much that she hadn’t really told him where things stood between her and Trent? He wanted to know bad enough he almost, countless times, had marched up to her apartment and asked her.
This morning, however, her car was still parked in its spot. He glanced up towards her apartment; no light was shining out of the back kitchen window. Had Christine overslept?
He contemplated that for an hour, keeping more of an eye on her silent car than actually being productive on the car he was working on. Finally he gave up concentrating and walked over to her car. Glancing up, he noticed it was still dark inside her apartment. He went up the stairs and knocked on the door, other hand in the pockets of his coveralls, wishing again that he didn’t look so blue-collar.
She opened the door. She wore a large gray t-shirt and baggy flannel pajama bottoms. Her brown eyes were dull, set off by the white pallor of her face.
She had enough in her to groan when she saw him standing before her. “What do you want?”
“Thought maybe you overslept.”
His eyes sharpened on her face as the little color she had seemed to bleed from it like oil through a funnel.
“No. Leave me alone. I’m sick.” Then she started to swing the door shut. Surprised at her abrupt movements he stepped forward to stop the door from closing in order to finish their conversation. But that fast she was gone. He followed her to the bathroom.
He held back in the doorway, not quite so gallant as to hold her hair back, but waited until she was through to grab a hand towel, wet it, and hand it to her. She wiped
the sweat that had formed on her face and, apparently having given up trying to minimize how miserable she felt, flopped back on her butt against the tub, cloth over her face.
“Would you leave?”
“No.”
She took the towel off her face and peeked at him as he stood in the bathroom doorway.
“How long have you been doing this?”
“All night,” she said feebly. “Now get out of here. This is terrible.”
“This is just life.” He came over and helped her up and over to her bed, where she fell back like she’d just run a marathon instead of having crossed her bedroom. He pulled her legs off the covers and put her under them. She was silent as she laid there resting. The trip to the door had taken it out of her.
“You need anything?” he asked finally.
“Nothing will stay in.” She opened her eyes and met his gaze from where he stood looking down.
“You want me to call someone? Your mom, maybe?”
“It’s just the flu.”
He never got sick and didn’t trust her analysis. She looked bad, miserable. Sicker than he’d ever been. “I don’t think you should be alone. You look awful.”
“Thanks for noticing.”
“I mean, not awful as in you look bad, but awful as in pale and shaky and—”
“Sick,” she interrupted, a smile tugging at her lips. “It’s okay, I know what I look like. And I’m fine to be alone. There’s nothing anyone can do anyways.”
“Still, I’ll keep checking on you,” he said, decision made.
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
He squatted beside the bed. “Do you really think I’m that uncaring? I can check on you.”
She gazed up at him. “I didn’t expect this side of you.”
“What?”
“This concerned side. About me.”
He ran his fingers over her cheek lightly, unable to keep from touching her. “Still hate me, huh?”
She didn’t answer. She watched him wearily.
“I’ll check on you at lunch. Leave the door unlocked so you don’t have to get up. Call me if you need anything.”
