“See, I listened to ya!” He rolled his eyes and mimicked, “Manners, manners, manners.”
Raleigh chuckled as he watched the kid disappear around the bend. When he looked at her, his smile also disappeared. “What?”
“Is that…your son?” Though Mia’s face didn’t blush on the scarred side, she could feel the heat of embarrassment sear the normal skin on her left side. “Sorry. That was rude. Talk about manners. It’s just that he looks a lot like you.”
He chuckled, thank goodness. “No worries. He’s my half brother.”
Hopefully, he couldn’t see the relief on her face. “Oh. I don’t remember seeing him back when we were—”
“Dating?” he finished.
“Is that what you considered it?”
“Sure. We weren’t seeing anyone else. We saw a lot of each other. And we were…” This time he let the sentence drift off.
Making love. “I considered it dating, but I wasn’t sure if you did.” She glanced toward the open bay, anxious to move the subject back to Cody. “Anyway, I’ve never seen him before.”
“He was only four when you and I met. My dad got his mother, Rose, pregnant and actually married her. But then he went back to his useless ways, drinking, carousing. Disappearing for supposed jobs out of town for weeks at a time and coming back with excuses instead of money. So I got more involved in their lives. A year ago, he bailed altogether. Nobody’s seen or heard squat from him since. Even on Cody’s birthday or at Christmas.”
“And you help them out.”
“They don’t have anybody else.”
He gave them his hard-earned money. Money he hoped to buy this garage with. Damn, her heart was melting. He really had no idea what a good man he was.
“So, about the house,” he started to say.
“I’ll need your help,” she broke in. “I know nothing about home repair. Of course, I know you don’t have a lot of free time. But we need an idea of what has to be fixed.”
“I’m happy to help, but—”
“And you should be. You’re getting half of the profits.”
“Mia, you’re giving away a lot of money here. The house itself may not be worth a lot—and will probably be razed for one of those four-story skinny houses that are popping up—but, even with that, the land’s worth over four hundred thousand, I’d guess.”
“That’s what my father thinks. At least that much, if not more.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not going against Grandma’s wishes. You think I want her haunting me?”
He looked as though he were about to argue further, but she saw hope spark in his eyes when he realized that she wouldn’t be swayed. “You really want me to have it?”
“Grandma did. And yes, I do, too. Will that be enough to buy this garage?”
“With what I’ve saved, after inheritance taxes, maybe. Guess you heard that conversation at the bank, huh?”
“We both know one of each other’s secrets. My cancer, your appeal for a loan.” She let those words hang in the silence for a moment. “So, when can you come over and assess the house?”
“When are your parents not going to be there?”
She couldn’t help smiling. “They aren’t staying at the house. It’s too rustic. That’s the word my mother uses: rustic. It’s a nice way of saying run-down, or beneath her. I told them I’m staying in town for the two weeks I have before I start my new job. To see the house project and packing through. They’ll be heading out in two days. Since it’s mine—ours—they don’t need to stay.”
“I bet that went over well.”
She blew out a breath. “My father wanted to take over the project, and my mother wanted to wash her hands clean of it. I made the decision, though.”
“I bet neither of them is happy about you staying here. With me.”
“The thing is, they still—and maybe always will—see me as their fragile child who needs them. They’re not taking my growing up and making decisions on my own well.”
“Especially any decision that includes me.” He patted the car. “I should be done with this job by then, and I don’t have another one until week after next.” He released a long breath. “So I’ll see you after work in two days.”
She gave him a nod and pushed away from the car, her heart singing at the thought. “Okay, then.”
Stop that. This is business. We get the house in sell shape, and I go on to start my new job. Because as much as some things haven’t changed—and that includes the way he makes me feel and the way my parents feel about him—so much has. Maybe even the way he feels about me.
Chapter 5
Two days later, Raleigh watched men in business attire walk around the gas station, or, more precisely, around the perimeter of the property. They typed notes on tablets, took pictures using the same devices, and gestured toward the property lines.
Peter watched, too, nervously jingling the change in his pocket. “I want them to buy and I don’t want them to buy.” He looked at Raleigh. “Because I want you to end up with the garage. I know you’ll keep my baby the way it is.”
“I’ll focus more on high-performance cars and customization.” Raleigh wasn’t going to lie. “And take care of our regulars as much as I can. I need to do more than just fix cars, Peter. I want to make them fly.” He thought of the Mustang he’d tested the day before. The way his heart rate had risen along with the RPMs. How the roar of the engine and the precise handling had filled him with satisfaction.
Peter shook his head, a rough laugh coming from his throat. “Dreams. I remember having dreams once.” His smile faded. “But here I stayed, for thirty years. And now, finally, this town is growing enough that I can sell for a good price and retire. I wish you could buy it from me. You play the lottery?”
“I may have some money coming in. Nancy left me half of her property.”
“What? That’s what the lawyer wanted with you? And you didn’t tell me until now?” Peter’s thick mustache twitched with his ire.
“You were gone for the day. And I wasn’t going to take it.”
“What? Are you frickin’ crazy?”
“It didn’t feel right. I’m taking that money out of Mia’s hands, as it turns out. She and I both inherited the house. But she’s insisting.” He shook his head. “Still doesn’t feel right.”
“Don’t be a stooge. Take the money. You were good to Nancy. That was a hell of a thing for her to do.”
Raleigh wondered, though, if it was all about the money. She’d been trying to get him and Mia to communicate for years. She studied his face whenever she shared some tidbit about her life or showed him a picture. A silly romantic, she thought he and Mia could pick up where they’d left off. As though what they had seven years ago could be preserved the same way her jams or green beans were.
“It was a hell of a thing,” Raleigh agreed. “I can’t make an official offer, because I don’t know how long it’s going to take to get the house ready and sell it. Plus, her father might contest the will, which could drag on for years.” The bastard would do it just to spite him, but the fact that it would affect his daughter, too, might deter him.
He still couldn’t believe he might have money. Still wasn’t comfortable with it. Nobody had given him anything this huge, other than Peter’s giving him his job back when he got out of jail. And Mia with her belief in him. Those were big enough gifts, but this was a couple of hundred thousand dollars. “I can put in an offer with a contingency, but that wouldn’t be fair to you.”
“Me, I don’t care about waiting another few months. But the wife knows about those guys coming in, and she’d probably divorce me if they make an offer and I turn it down.” Once the men had pulled out of the lot, Peter let out a loud sigh and stepped back. “Get to work. Mrs. Cranston needs her car back first thing in the morning.”
Raleigh didn’t want to have to work late at the day job. Not tonight. He finished the tranny, then met his Hardcore Edge customer who’d come for the Corvette.
The man hadn’t been happy to find his baby parked out back—no security fence, a tin roof the only protection against the elements. But he was really happy when they took it for a drive, if the string of orgasmic sounds coming from him had been any indication.
Raleigh had thought about Pax’s offer of using the track as they roared down the abandoned strip of road. Sonofabitch knew the temptation it would be, having the offer and the key in hand. Almost as big a temptation as working with Mia on the house.
He finished an hour early and ran home to clean up. The two-bedroom cabin with its little front porch was a bit too “cozy,” but it was his. He’d been living on the property since he left home at fifteen. His father wouldn’t have dared report him as a runaway.
George Morlen, the man who owned the property, had installed electricity and sewerage for the trailer he had used as a hunting cabin. But when the adjoining acreage was developed he couldn’t hunt anymore. He’d let Raleigh live there in exchange for keeping the road clear and running off any trespassers with his trusty Remington.
Raleigh took a quick shower, changed, and caught himself checking his reflection. This wasn’t a date, for Pete’s sake. It was a business endeavor. You’d better remember that.
The problem was he could also remember the way she’d held his hand two days ago, the way her fingers stroking his skin had thrummed right through his body.
That was a problem he had to conquer. No good would come of that particular temptation. She had a job far away, and parents who hated him.
But you have something to offer her now. Money enough to start your own business.
He squashed the hopeful thought, hopped into his car, and headed over to Nancy’s. Only there were two cars in the drive, both of which he recognized from the night he’d come by after learning of Nancy’s passing.
He backed up and drove down to the narrow beach access nearby. Mia hadn’t specified when her parents were flying out, but she hadn’t told him to wait until a specific time, either. And they hadn’t exchanged phone numbers, so she couldn’t warn him. Heck, maybe they’d tied her up and were setting a trap for him…nah. He chuckled at his crazy imagination.
Waiting in the car grew old after about five minutes. He got out and slammed the door closed. Did some push-ups against the car. Could still see the roof of her parents’ car in the distance, so he walked to the rocky shore. The access had been cut in for residents of the subdivision that had been planned on the acreage across the street from the beach cottages. Since that development had faltered, bogged down by environmental and economic problems, few people ever used the access.
Survey stakes heralded the coming of a new house on the beach, but it was all dunes and sea oats from the access to Nancy’s place. She’d loved the privacy and solitude of the area, and he understood why.
There wasn’t much of a breeze, and he soon felt warm and sticky. Clumps of dried seaweed dotted the smooth, wet sand like discarded clothing, filling the air with a pungent sea smell. That didn’t seem to bother the family who were building an elaborate sandcastle. Raleigh smiled at them as he passed, but most of the smile reflected a memory of when he and Mia had built a sandcastle of their own.
Though she had kept him at a cordial distance from her parents, she had invited him over when she knew they wouldn’t be around. At the time, Raleigh had known Nancy only as an occasional customer, one who made a point of questioning him about exactly what he’d done to her car. Not out of suspicion but because she wanted to understand the mechanics. Even then, they’d enjoyed an easy camaraderie.
He pulled himself out of the memory and focused on the cluster of tall buildings a few miles down, where the beaches had been artificially widened years ago by the controversial dredging project. He couldn’t walk there even if he wanted to, as the beach here gave way to mangroves that bordered a state preserve.
The yellow cottage was just ahead, past a stand of sea oats and a large sea-grape tree. On the other side of the cottage, several more large trees and an empty lot separated Nancy’s deck from the house next door.
A woman’s shrill voice carried through the air. Not Mia’s, but he could hazard a guess as to whose it was. He probably shouldn’t have, but he kept walking, keeping out of the line of sight of the house. Finally, he paused on the other side of the sea-grape tree. The back French doors were open, and from the volume of the voices he thought they were coming from the kitchen just inside.
“You’re being stupid, Mia,” a man’s voice said. Her father, probably. “I don’t understand how you can just give away that much money.”
“And to him, of all people,” the woman said. Mrs. Wentworth, no doubt.
I agree. He almost wanted to step up on the wood deck and say it aloud, but he remained in the shadow of the tree. The large, round leaves blocked him well enough.
“Because Grandma wanted him to have it. You heard the letter the attorney read. She was of sound mind. I am not fighting this, Father.”
“I bet he seduced her, a lonely old woman,” her mother said.
Raleigh rolled his eyes in disgust.
“Don’t be gross,” Mia said. “He would never do that.”
“And you know him so well.”
“I do.”
Raleigh closed his eyes at Mia’s defense of his character. What had he ever done to deserve that?
“Fly back with us and let the punk take care of the details. It’s the least he can do.”
Punk. Raleigh might have agreed seven years ago, but he’d come a long way since then. At least, beyond punk.
“You’re asking for trouble staying here, working with him,” her mother warned.
“What do you think I’m going to do, get in his car and ask him to race again?” Mia nearly shouted.
“There are other things you can do inside a car besides race,” her mother said acidly.
“Seriously? You think I’m going to climb into a car and make love with him?”
Make love. Those words shivered through him, even in the heat.
“No, why would you when you have this house to do it in?” Her mother’s voice was now as loud and sharp as Mia’s. “I know you had sex with that boy. Oh, you denied it, but I’m not stupid.”
“Are you still in love with him?” her father asked tightly.
“Of course not,” Mia answered in a calmer voice.
Raleigh should have been relieved to hear that. God knew there was no point in either of them going there again. Look how it had ended last time. He rubbed the leathery surface of a nearby leaf, as big as a fan. He was tempted to break it off and use it as a fan, as he’d seen people do from time to time.
“Remember that closure I was talking about?” Mia said. “Staying and working with Raleigh is going to achieve that. For me and probably for him, too. I’m not a teenage girl starved for life, for the thrill of falling in love. I’m a grown woman.”
“Mia, you’re only twenty-four,” her mother said, as though Mia might have forgotten.
“I’m forty. Fifty. A hundred. At least, that’s what I feel like sometimes.” And he could hear the weariness in Mia’s voice. “I have been for a long time.”
Raleigh hadn’t understood the world-weariness or the wisdom he’d seen in her eyes back then. He’d just known that she went deeper, higher, than any girl he’d ever known.
Her words came back to him. I did think about dying, had been thinking about it every day for years. For the first time, with you, I was living. That’s what you gave me.
He closed his eyes at the memory, of how the words had hit him when she said them. He’d taken so much away from her, but he’d given her something in return.
“I need to do this,” Mia said, her voice fading as they obviously moved farther into the house. “I need to…”
Get closure. Yeah, that was something he could understand. They’d gone from the thrill of summer heat to shattered in a heartbeat. That’s what this would be about for both of them. Closure. Moving on. He nodd
ed, sealing it in his mind.
He heard doors slam shut, a car engine start. He could have gone back to his car and then pulled up to the house, pretending he hadn’t heard a thing. But that felt deceptive, and he wouldn’t be that way with Mia. So he walked up the steps to the back deck and knocked on the edge of the open door.
She materialized from the front room, her expression going from curious to a smile to a frown. “Were you out there the whole time?”
“Nope. Walked in from the beach a few minutes ago.”
He waited for her to open the door and admit him. She didn’t, crossing her arms and looking out beyond him. “How much did you hear?”
“From the part about you being stupid on.”
“Which one? I think they said it about a hundred times.”
“The last one, then.”
She seemed to calculate everything he might have heard, then grimaced. “Did you eavesdrop on purpose? Maybe to get me back for what I heard at the bank?”
“God, no. Not to get you back anyway.” Confirming that he’d done it on purpose, though.
She reluctantly opened the screened door. “That was very—”
“Rude, I know.” He came inside, forcing her to take a step back. “Maybe I just wanted to see how much grief they were giving you. I’m proud of you for standing up to them.” And grateful to you for standing up for me. But he couldn’t push out those words.
A smile flickered across her face, but she gallantly held on to the annoyed—and probably embarrassed—expression.
He leaned close to her. “You’re not being stupid. This is business. No hanky-panky in my car, your car, or here.” He held out his hand toward her. “Business and closure. Shake on it.”
She rolled her eyes as she clasped his hand. “You did hear a lot. I guess you also heard about me not—”
“Being in love with me? Now, that would be stupid, us still being madly crazy in love like we were when we were kids. A lot’s changed since then. We’ve changed.”
She met his gaze, and something old and familiar thumped him in the chest. The way it had back when they were madly crazy in love. Damn. It didn’t help that they were still holding hands.
Falling Fast (Falling Fast #1) Page 6
