by Brenda Novak
* * *
Before dialing Joe’s number, Cheyenne locked the door to her office. She could hear Riley and Jacob working upstairs. She doubted they’d come down, but didn’t want to be interrupted if they did. She preferred a few minutes of privacy to tell the man she’d wanted since she was fourteen that she couldn’t see him again, even while Eve was out of town.
Especially while Eve was out of town.
His cell rang three times before he picked up.
“Finally,” he teased. “I thought maybe you weren’t going to allow me to apologize.”
She could hear sounds from the service station in the background. Obviously, he was at work. “You don’t have anything to apologize for. I understand how seeing that guy would throw you. It’s fine.”
“He took me by surprise, but that’s no excuse.”
“Considering what you told me in your message, he had a lot of nerve, expecting you to greet him like a friend.”
“We were friends, once. That’s what makes it hard. But it’s been years. I shouldn’t have let him get to me.”
“Seeing him was a shock.”
“Thanks for being so understanding.” He covered the phone to tell someone he’d be just a minute. Then his voice deepened. “Does that mean you’ll give me another chance?”
She hauled in a deep breath. “I wish I could, Joe. I—I’ve had a crush on you for years,” she said with a weak laugh. “I’m sure you’re aware of that.”
“No, I wasn’t,” he said in astonishment.
“I guess I’m better at keeping a secret than I thought.”
“You’re certainly better at it than Eve.”
He was joking again, trying to ease the awkwardness, and that offered the perfect segue. “Speaking of Eve. She’s…great.”
Silence, then, “She is great.”
“She’s also my best friend,” Cheyenne continued. “And now that she’s interested in you, my hands are tied. I don’t…I don’t want to see her get hurt.”
“I admire your loyalty. That’s rare these days. But—”
“And I definitely don’t want to be the person to hurt her,” she broke in.
There was another long pause. “You’re saying even if I’m not interested in Eve, you don’t want to get involved with me.”
That was really her only choice. And yet, she knew it would be so much easier to forget her dark, sexy neighbor if she could throw herself into a relationship with Prince Charming instead.
Too bad it wasn’t possible. She’d been unsure and overwhelmed when Joe showed up with that bottle of wine—unsure and overwhelmed enough to let him in—but since then she’d received an education. Thanks to Dylan, she now understood how quickly attraction could ignite. “I can’t.”
Her honesty seemed to take him off guard. No doubt he’d been expecting a simple “no problem,” and a commitment to have dinner with him. Instead, she’d told him how long she’d yearned for his attention—and then refused to see him.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said.
“I’m sorry to say it,” she responded. “You’re one in a million.” With a wince, she hit the end button. Then she sat in her chair and stared at the picture of her and Eve taken while they were visiting Baxter in San Francisco earlier in the year.
“Friendship means a lot,” she reminded herself. Ignoring the sadness she felt for what might’ve been at last, she finished booking the internet reservations that had come in over the past couple of days.
* * *
Since his divorce, Joe hadn’t been eager to jump back into the dating pool. Bumping into the person he suspected to be the father of his youngest daughter, just as he was starting to feel that secret was safe, hadn’t helped. It’d reminded him why he’d sworn off women to begin with, how complicated and painful romantic relationships could get, especially when there were children involved.
But spending the rest of his life alone wouldn’t be much of an improvement. And Chey seemed like a woman he could trust. The telephone call he’d just had with her confirmed it. Suzie would’ve put herself above her friend without thinking twice. He had no doubt of that. Suzie believed she was the only one who had a right to be happy.
“Hey!”
Joe turned to see his father holding open the door between the minimart, where Martin had been working the register, and the auto-repair bays, where Joe had been overseeing the automotive end.
“We’ve hit a lull in here,” Martin said. “Can you watch the store while I grab us a sandwich at Stacked?”
“Sure.”
“What do you want?”
“Hot pastrami.”
“You got it.”
Grateful to know he had a few minutes to himself, without worrying about being interrupted or overheard by his father, Joe called his sister in L.A. Since he was interested in one of her friends, he figured he should probably get her permission and maybe a little advice.
“Don’t tell me this is my big brother, whom I rarely hear from unless I call,” Gail said when she came on the line.
Slightly embarrassed, he passed into the store. She was right; she was better at staying in touch. “I hope you’re not holding a grudge.”
“And I hope that one day you’ll start doing your part. What’s up? I might hear from you occasionally, but never in the middle of the day, which makes this call a bit suspect.”
“I must want something, huh?”
“Exactly. Is everything okay? Is it Dad? Are you two getting along?”
“Everything’s fine. How’s Simon?”
“Simon’s a handful. But I knew he’d be a handful when I married him.”
She sounded happy, and that made him feel optimistic, as if some marriages, even a high-risk marriage, could work. “I bet he’s busy.”
“Actually, he’s so excited about the baby he hardly leaves my side.”
Joe reorganized the candy near the register and threw away an empty box. “What’s the latest?”
“We still don’t know whether we’re having a boy or girl and we don’t want to find out until the baby’s born.”
“Only two more months to wait. What does Ty think of having a brother or sister?”
“He’s as excited as his daddy. He wants to name the baby Elmo.”
“Yikes.”
“Nothing could be worse.”
“Hard to believe you’re almost at the naming point. You were barely showing when I saw you last.”
She laughed. “I’m definitely poking out now.”
He asked about her PR company. She said it was thriving. He asked about Simon’s latest film. She said he’d insisted on a hiatus until their Lamaze classes ended. He asked when they might come to Whiskey Creek. She said they were hoping to visit soon. Then the conversation slowed, and her tone took on a playful note. “Okay, enough chitchat. You had a reason for calling me. What is it?”
Dexter Jones, a locksmith who lived in town, pulled up to get gas. Joe kept an eye out in case he needed help, but Dexter was paying at the pump.
“There’s a woman,” Joe said.
“A woman,” she repeated.
“Yes.”
“Someone you like?”
“I think so.”
“I’ve been waiting a long time for this,” she said gleefully. “Where’d you meet her?”
“Right here in Whiskey Creek.” He wiped down the coffee area. “You know her, too. Quite well.”
“I know almost everyone in Whiskey Creek. Who is she?”
He stopped cleaning up. “One of your closest friends.”
Her silence seemed to come from surprise more than anything else. “Which one? You’ve never shown much interest in my friends, not romantically.”
“Because they were too young for me.”
“They haven’t closed the gap, Joe,” she said with a laugh.
“You know how it is. Now that we’re older…somehow those years don’t matter like they used to.”
“I see.”
She sounded excited. “So are you going to tell me who we’re talking about?”
He was about to, but she cut him off before he could.
“Wait—let me can guess. You like Eve, right? Callie mentioned that she’s been talking about you lately—”
“It’s not Eve. But you’re getting close.”
“Callie?”
He watched Dexter fiddle with his phone while waiting for the pump to fill his tank. “Cheyenne.”
“That’s wonderful! There’s no one better than Chey. She’s more reserved than the others, which is why I didn’t think of her right away. She’s definitely different from your ex.”
“That might be the attraction,” he said dryly.
“I approve. Wholeheartedly.”
“You don’t mind?”
“Not at all.”
He waved to Dexter, who returned the wave and drove off. “Then maybe you can talk her into going out with me.”
“Why would I need to talk her into that? You’ve already asked—and she turned you down?”
“It’s a little more complicated than you might expect.” He told her about Eve’s invitation to dinner, and how often she’d been coming by the station.
“Cheyenne’s a very loyal person, Joe. I don’t think she’ll relent, not if there’s a chance of hurting Eve.”
“But I’m not interested in Eve. And I’ve never led her to believe otherwise. I accepted her dinner invitation but knew almost immediately that she wasn’t my type. I didn’t kiss her or touch her. It doesn’t seem fair that she’s standing in the way.”
“I get that, but…” She made a clicking sound with her tongue. “It’s a tough situation. You’re asking Chey to risk losing her best friend. I don’t have to tell you what her life was like growing up, or why she feels so bonded to Eve.”
“No, but Eve’s gone for another week. I don’t see why I can’t get to know Cheyenne. Maybe the attraction will fizzle before Eve even comes back. I’d like to explore the possibilities, see if there’s anything there.”
“Right. Okay.” She paused again, as if thinking it through. Then she said, “I’ll do what I can to help.”
The bell over the door jingled. Twelve-year-old Shelley Brown, who walked over from her house a block down the street practically every day, entered the store and headed down the candy aisle.
Joe gave her a welcoming smile before turning away and lowering his voice. “Which means what? You’re going to call her?”
“I’m going to have Eve call her—and give her blessing.”
“Eve’s on a cruise. You won’t be able to reach her.”
“I will if I call the boat.”
He grinned, even though she couldn’t see him. “I think the power of being Mrs. Simon O’Neal is going to your head.”
“I can’t say I don’t enjoy the fringe benefits of having a powerful husband.”
“You’re spoiled,” he teased.
“At least I’m good to my big brother. Give me a couple of days.”
* * *
Dylan couldn’t think of anything except Cheyenne. The shop was the busiest it’d ever been—there were always more collisions in the winter, due to the wet roads—but he kept looking at the clock, wishing the time would go faster. He wanted to see her again, even though he wasn’t sure she’d be interested in seeing him. She openly admitted that her heart belonged to Joe, and Dylan could certainly understand why she’d be attracted to him. Although they didn’t socialize, he and Joe referred business to each other quite often, worked on a lot of the same cars. Joe or one of his mechanics did the engine work; Dylan or one of his brothers did the bodywork. Joe seemed like a decent guy, a respectable candidate.
“What’s wrong with you today, man?” Aaron’s paint mask was hanging around his neck as he came into the office from the warehouse section in back.
Dylan glanced up from his computer. He was pricing parts so he could prepare bids for the three vehicles that’d been towed into his front lot this morning. Or at least he was pricing when he could focus. For the past few seconds, he’d just been staring at the screen. “What do you mean?”
“I stood right there in the doorway, talking to you.”
Dylan hadn’t heard a thing. He’d been too preoccupied. “I’m tired,” he said by way of excuse.
“You went to bed before we did.”
But his brothers had probably gotten more sleep. “Tossed and turned.” Among other things, he added silently and covered a yawn. “What do you need?”
“We’ve got a problem with the paint on Hal’s Suburban.”
“What kind of problem?”
“It’s grainy. Don’t know what’s going on.”
“The surface must not have been clean and smooth to begin with.”
“Mack did the prep work. And he’s the best collision-repair technician we’ve got. Isn’t that what you always say?”
“He’s good.”
“He’s also your pet, which hardly makes you an objective judge. But in this case, you’re right. The grainy paint isn’t his fault.”
Dylan heard the jab in those words. Aaron had long been jealous of Mack. But Dylan didn’t want to get into it. They’d already had an argument this morning over a job Aaron had to redo because it didn’t meet Dylan’s standards. “If it’s not the prep work, there must be dust in the paint booth. Which one are you in today?”
“The big one, but I used it yesterday, too, with perfect results.”
“So did you check the sprayer?”
“Everyone knows better than to put chemicals in the sprayer. I think we just got a bad batch of paint.”
Dylan pressed his fingers to his temples. This was the last thing they needed when they were so backed up. “Fine. I’ll call the supplier.”
“You should call Hal, too. He won’t be happy to hear we’ve got a problem. He needs his Suburban.”
Dylan already knew they were under pressure, trying to get everyone’s car fixed before Christmas. “That reminds me…how are we coming on Murphy’s Cadillac? We’ll have to discount the price if we don’t get it done on time, and we’re not making much to begin with.” That was Dylan’s fault. After the number of years he’d been running Amos Auto Body, he rarely underbid a job. But he’d gotten some bad information on the parts needed to fix the Caddie, and it was his policy not to go back on the customer.
“Rod’s dealing with Murphy’s car. You’ll have to check with him.” He dropped some change in the soda machine, took a Pepsi and walked out.
Once he was gone, Dylan crossed the lobby and stood by the door his brother had just used. He could see Aaron through the small window, talking to Grady, who was at the sanding station. Aaron wasn’t looking good these days. The weight seemed to be falling off him. He was staying up all night and coming to work stoned, which was why, Dylan figured, he’d screwed up that other job.
Dylan had already threatened Carl Inera, the guy he suspected of supplying Aaron. Carl was so scared of Dylan he jumped every time Dylan saw him. Carl also swore up and down that he hadn’t sold Aaron so much as a ten-dollar bag of pot in months.
But Aaron had to be getting his dope from somewhere.
Dylan feared it was Presley.
The phone pealed, and he caught it on the fourth ring. “Amos Auto Body.”
“Dylan? This is Joe, over at the Gas-N-Go.”
Dylan stiffened, even though he’d never had that kind of reaction to Joe before. “What’s up?”
“We’ve finished replacing the wiring harness on Beverly Hansen’s BMW. How should we get it back to you? Do you want me to have it towed over, or did you want to pick it up on the flatbed?”
“I’ll send Rod with the flatbed,” he said.
“Perfect. I appreciate the business.”
Dylan wanted to ask him if he was seeing anyone. He couldn’t help hoping that a girlfriend would make Cheyenne forget about Joe. But they weren’t good enough friends for such a personal question. And he knew, even
if Joe was dating someone else, it might not make a difference. Cheyenne had it in her mind that Joe was the one she wanted, and she wasn’t about to consider other options. Dylan couldn’t see her ever giving him a shot. He and Joe were too different. “I’ll get you paid.”
“I know you will.”
After they hung up, Dylan almost called Cheyenne. He’d been tempted to do so all day, just to hear her voice, to ask if maybe she’d like to grab a bite to eat with him later.
But if she didn’t even want her sister or his brothers to know they were seeing each other, he doubted she’d be willing to go out in public. So he ignored the impulse and got back to work.
15
“Mom?” Cheyenne leaned close to her mother’s bed.
Anita opened her eyes. The painkiller Cheyenne had given her a few minutes earlier had taken effect but hadn’t yet dragged her into a sleepy stupor. For the moment, she could think and speak almost normally.
Cheyenne wanted to take advantage of that opportunity. “Can we talk?”
“I don’t like the tone of your voice,” Anita responded, but she sounded more strident than she had in a few days.
“Why not?”
“Because I can tell you’re gonna badger me about the same old stuff. It’s getting old, Chey. There isn’t anything more I can tell you.”
“I don’t believe that, Mom. I want you to try, once again, to remember where I was born. That isn’t asking too much. You know Presley was born in San Diego, right? She could track down her birth certificate, couldn’t she?”
Lines of impatience created deep grooves in Anita’s forehead. “Where is Presley?”
“It’s midnight. She’s at work. You know that. She won’t be home until morning.”
“She’s left me to your mercies?”
“She always leaves you to my mercies. So don’t act as if that’s unusual. Anyway, it doesn’t have to be this hard,” Cheyenne said. “Just answer the question.”
“Your friends are already on the cruise. It’s too late for you to go. So why are you at me for your damn birth certificate again?”
Cheyenne examined the face of the woman who’d raised her, searching for some sign of weakening resolve or evidence that she was hiding something. “Because I want to find out before it’s too late to ask!”
