You Own Me

by Shiloh Walker

  “Trust me, Lizzie.” Selah shook her head. “I know men. And that’s not going to happen.”

  Decker fought with the bolt, teeth clenched. It was rusted in place—rust was about the only thing holding the so-called classic the manager of the garage had recently bought. The idea was that they could fix it up and sell it.

  Yeah. Right. When puppies turned into sparkly little unicorns.

  This whole damn garage was going to go down in a fiery mess if somebody didn’t reign the current boss in. Hewey Pascal thought he knew cars, but he couldn’t figure out a V-8 from a four-banger even if somebody walked him through it.

  Decker could give him a diagram and a roadmap and step by step instructions and he still wouldn’t get it.

  Pascal also didn’t know a classic car from a classic piece of shit.

  But until the owner of the garage hired an assistant to help cover things when his myriad health problems pulled him away, or this place went under, they were forced to deal with Hewey.

  “Hey.”

  A booted foot kicked his ankle. Recognizing the voice, he slid out from under the car and peered up at Pixie. Her real name was Patricia but she refused to answer to it. Pixie was the name she’d given them and the only reason he knew her real name was because he’d passed out the checks a time or two.

  “Sugar-pie called.” Pixie fluttered her lashes at him.

  He scowled.

  “Lizzie. She called. I heard the phone ringing while I was in the break room so I grabbed it, answered it. She sounded blue. I told her I’d let you know she called.”

  “Thanks.” He was torn between getting back to work and calling her, but a glance toward the office made up his mind. Hewey was in there.

  “You’re allowed a break, man,” Pixie said softly.

  “I’m good. I’m only on another couple hours.” He shoved back under the car. She came around to crouch by his head.

  “That son of a bitch isn’t going to fire one of the best mechanics—I don’t care what stick he has up his ass.”

  “It’s not a stick,” Decker said. He wasn’t even that irritated. “I am an ex-con. He doesn’t like ex-cons. I don’t like kiss-ass idiots who don’t know an engine from an armpit. We’re even.”

  She choked back a laugh. “I just hate to see you let him push you around.”

  He just lay there a moment, then he went back to work. The nut was almost free. “It’s not about him pushing me around. It’s about not wanting to mess with him. He’s not worth my time, or my temper. All he wants is a reason to talk Rowland into firing me. I’m not giving him that.”

  “Okay, dude. But man, you know Rowland isn’t going to fire you. He can’t afford to lose you.” She poked him in the biceps. “Listen, we’re playing tonight if you want to come by. Maybe bring Lizzie. She needs to have some fun. That limpdick she’s with wouldn’t know a good time if it bit him on the ass.”

  “Maybe.” He was already mentally shrugging the idea off. Lizzie wasn’t going to be up to that kind of thing tonight.

  But as he lay under the battered wreck of a car, he started to think. Wonder.

  Why the hell not? It wasn’t like they didn’t hang out, right?

  He’d buy her a beer or two, talk some sense into her—surely she had to see that this fuck she’d been wasting her life on was just no good. The shit Noel had come up with last night was just proof of it.

  “I think I’m going to try it.”

  Those were the absolute last words he’d expected to hear from her as they wound their way into the tightly packed bar where Pixie played with a band a couple nights a month.

  The words shocked him so much Decker just came to a halt in the middle of the crowded floor while people flowed and ebbed around them. Somebody caught him in the back with an elbow and he ignored it. “What did you say?”

  “I said I think I’m going to—hey!” Lizzie’s eyes flared wide and her face went red as she went to glare behind her. Decker shot out his arm—at six foot five, he had a damn long reach and although the leering fool saw him coming, he didn’t move fast enough.

  “Deck, don’t…” her words trailed away.

  He dragged the man up and growled. “Apologize.”

  “Hey, hey, hey…I just bumped into her!”

  “Your hand didn’t bump into my ass, you moron!” Lizzie said, only to snap her jaw shut when Decker shot her a look.

  Lowering his head, he said in a low voice, too low for Lizzie to hear over the music, “You can either apologize and walk out, or say anything else…and you’ll be carried out. Your choice.”

  The squawked-out apology was barely audible as the band started their warm up, but as long as the fuck kept away from Lizzie, he didn’t care. Focusing his eyes on her, he asked, “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” Insult still darkened her eyes, but she gave him a faint smile. “You realize my ass isn’t a matter of national security…you didn’t have to threaten him like that.”

  “Your ass is more valuable to me than national security.” The words slipped out before he realized just how she might take that. “Ah…well, you are. Anyway, the bastard shouldn’t have put a hand on you. Maybe next time he’ll think twice.”

  “Or he’ll just make sure it’s a woman without a guy near her.” Her shoulders slumped and he tucked her up against him.

  “Come on. Pix has a friend holding a table for us. We’ll sit down. Have a beer—I think I need four or five just to listen to whatever you were trying to say before numbnuts back there interfered.” Four or five beers, a battering ram to the head. He might get through this.

  “You’re absolutely serious.”

  Decker hadn’t taken the seat across from her the way she’d expected him to.

  No, he’d slid right in next to her and when she had given him a look, he said, “I want to know what’s going on, and I’m not having you shout it across the table.”

  She’d let it go and now he was slumped in the seat, long powerful body tense, his legs stretched out in front of him, his chin all but touching his chest while he absorbed what she’d told him.

  Half twisted in the seat, she stared at the stage while she thought through the best way to respond. The band had gathered at the back, talking. Pixie had seen her and waved. She’d smiled and waved back, although she didn’t feel the smile.

  At all.

  “Lizzie?”

  Dragging her gaze away from the stage, she looked at Decker. He’d shifted his body around until he all but caged her in. And now he was looking at her, blocking out everything but him. “Yeah?”

  “Why are you doing this? You don’t want this.”

  “I don’t want to lose him,” she said, her voice rusty. I can’t… She didn’t want to voice the fears inside her. Nobody had ever really valued her before Noel. Well, Decker had but he was her friend. She needed—wanted—to belong to somebody.

  Her father had tossed her out and even the news that he’d been dying hadn’t made him willing to try and mend the rift between them.

  Her mother had abandoned her.

  She’d had friends in high school, but so many of them had fallen away after the trial.

  The few who had remained were Selah…and Decker.

  She’d made friends since then, but a friend wasn’t the same. It didn’t ease that ache of loneliness. It didn’t chase away the chill in the night. Although now, the chill was far, far worse.

  But maybe Noel would get it. Maybe he’d understand. Maybe—

  A gentle hand touched her cheek and she looked up. Decker had eased in closer, until his face all but filled her vision. “Are you so determined to keep him that you’ll make yourself miserable until he realizes you’re still patiently waiting?”

  “Well.” She licked her lips. Come on. Play. But they still continued to chat. “I was thinking about…” she forced the rest of it out in a rush, looking away from him.

  But neither that, nor her lowered voice kept him from hearing what she
said.

  “Excuse me?”

  His voice was a dark, harsh rasp.

  The sound of it sent a shiver down her spine. “I…uh…” She shrugged lamely, unable to find the right words.

  The band started up and she could have cheered in relief. But that didn’t last long.

  Decker clearly wasn’t done talking.

  He caught her hand, pulled her from the booth. She could have pulled away—he would have let her and it would have saved her this embarrassing discussion, but he’d just nag her until she told him. And she would. Sooner or later. Besides, he’d probably tell her it was a stupid idea. Selah was a good friend, but she was always trying to make her feel better about herself. Decker would tell it to her straight.

  So when he pushed her beer into her hand and led her through the crush out to the wooden deck, she followed. But he didn’t stop once they were outside. He kept walking and walking until they found a relatively quiet, and almost private, area.

  Once they were there, he let go of her hand and lifted his beer to his lips, all but drained the pilsner. Then he put it down, braced his hands on the railing. “Okay. Explain this to me again. You’re going to let that asshole date…because he wants an open relationship…and you’re going to what?”

  “Well.” Jerking one shoulder in a shrug, she took a sip from her beer, wishing for courage, or maybe just a little more eloquence. Nothing happened. And he was still watching her. It was quieter here, but the light was still strong and she could see the dark, intense blue of his eyes, the tight set of his jaw. Flames from one of his tattoos licked up over his neck and just then, the flames seemed to pulse. “Look, it’s probably a stupid idea, but Selah thought maybe I should do it—sign up for that Wanna Play site, since that’s where all this probably started. If he can do it, maybe I should, too. Tell him, see what he says. I don’t know.”

  She took another drink, then another. “It’s a stupid idea. Even if I did sign up for it, it would be a waste of time. Who in the world would waste time with me?”

  “I would…only I don’t see it as a waste.”

  “Very funny,” she muttered.

  He reached up and took her beer away and then she found herself being crowded back against the railing behind her. “You’re serious about doing this?” he asked when she scowled up at him.

  It took her a moment to answer, because it was…unsettling. Yes, that was it. It was unsettling to have Decker’s long, heavy body so close to hers. He was hot—the heat of his body seemed to pulse against her skin in waves. Under the short sleeves of his T-shirt, his tattoos were a beautiful, vivid stain against his skin and she found herself studying one of them—the Chinese dragon that was coiled around and around his right arm, from wrist all the way up, disappearing under the sleeve.

  “I don’t know,” she said, forcing the words out past her tight throat. “Like I said, Selah thinks I should, but I don’t know. I don’t want to date. I just want Noel to get over this stupid idea and…”

  “And what?” Decker asked, his voice blunt.

  Dragging her eyes up, she met his. “What do you mean?”

  “You want him to let this idea go so you two can go back to the way you were? But you can’t do that. And part of you is going to wonder now. He’s complained that he’s not satisfied and that’s going to make you doubt yourself. Lizzie…” His voice went soft. “You deserve better.”

  “Why me? Why do I deserve better? He’s the one who isn’t happy.” Curling her hands into fists, she shook her head. “If I’m not making him happy, doesn’t that mean I’m the one who is messing it up?”

  “Stop.” He covered her mouth with his hand, shaking his head. “He’s the one who is always pushing change on you. If he was worth even the price of one of those shirts he likes to brag about, he’d realize you’re perfect the way you are.”

  “I’m not perfect,” she mumbled.

  “You are you. If he can’t appreciate you for you, then that’s his problem.” Decker shrugged, unconcerned with anything else. “Now. Again. Let’s talk about this website. Are you going to sign up for it?”

  She rolled her eyes. “It would be a waste of my time, wouldn’t it? I mean, if I thought it would make him change his mind, then sure, but let’s say I do sign up. What’s going to happen?”

  “You’ll have too many men who don’t have a clue about the real you wanting to spend time with you,” Decker said, and his brows drew down tight in a scowl.

  “Whatever.”

  “You will.” He reached up, brushed her curls back from her brow. “I think you should do it. Go ahead…see what happens. And if he doesn’t realize how stupid he’s being, maybe it’s for the best. You’ll figure out that he isn’t right for you—that he can’t make you happy, and you’ll move on. Maybe something good can come from this.”

  “How?”

  “Maybe you’ll end up meeting somebody who treats you the way you deserve to be treated. Not the way that bastard has you thinking you should be treated.” He dipped his head and pressed a kiss to her brow.

  He’d done that, easily, a hundred times.

  More.

  Was it just her or did it seem like his lips lingered? Or maybe she was just lonely…and wishing that was what had happened.

  Chapter Three

  Uploading images…

  “I’m going to be sick,” Elizabeth whispered, dropping her face into her hands. She was really doing this. Memories of the way Noel had reacted had given her the courage to go this far, but now? “I’m going to throw up.”

  “No, you’re not. Here. Take a drink.”

  Elizabeth eyed the green bottle Selah had pushed her way, then, with a sigh, she accepted it. As she took a small sip of the ginger beer Selah drank like it was liquid candy, she refused to look at the monitor.

  “Okay. Pictures are uploaded…what do you want to say in your profile?”

  Putting the bottle down, Elizabeth leaped to her feet and started to pace. It had been two weeks since she’d sat down with Noel and laid things out. Yes, we can try this. But if you’ll be pursuing this open relationship idea, I’m going to as well.

  She hadn’t planned on doing it, not really.

  But then he’d smiled at her. A sweet, understanding sort of smile…while his eyes laughed at her. It had taken her a while to understand why she felt all hot and tight in her gut. She didn’t let herself get mad. She fought against getting mad. When she got mad, other people got hurt, because she sucked at solving her own problems. So she’d stopped letting her temper interfere, and had started using her brain.

  But this…oh, yeah. It had taken a few days for that slow burn to break through, but once it had, Elizabeth had realized she was pissed. Hell no was she going to let somebody else solve this for her—Selah had already given her the answer.

  Now, though, days after the fact, when her fury had cooled and all she had was her misery—and her discomfort at seeing the pictures Selah had taken of her, she wasn’t so sure about any of this anymore.

  “What if nothing happens?” she blurted out, turning to look at Selah across the room. She was still wearing one of the outfits Selah had talked her into wearing—one that had seemed kind of weird, in Elizabeth’s opinion, but Selah was the one with the artistic talent so what did Elizabeth know? The oversized battered denim workshirt was one that Decker had left at her place and she used it to sleep in. For the pictures, she’d worn just the shirt, but she’d pulled on a pair of shorts under it once Selah was done, so at least she didn’t feel completely naked.

  Selah waved a hand at her. “Relax. Hey…why don’t you order us some pizza? I’m starving.”

  “Pizza. I’m about to come out of my skin and you want…”

  The knock on the door interrupted her grumble and she shot a look down at herself. She was braless. Wonderful. Buttoning up two more buttons, she padded over to the door and looked through the peephole before opening it.

  “Deck.” An immediate smile broke out o
ver her face and then she stared at what he held for a long moment, before she just rolled her eyes and turned away. “The two of you seemed to forget I’m trying to cut back on the carbs I eat.”

  “Cheat days! You’re supposed to have them, I remember. One a week,” Selah said. She shot Decker a grin. “Pizza, amigo. You must be psychic. I was just telling her, pizza would taste so good right now.”

  “Hey, Selah.” He nodded at her as he carried the pizza in, depositing two pizza boxes and a double order of wings on the table. “Am I crashing something important?”

  “Would you care if you were?” Selah continued to pound away at the keyboard.

  Elizabeth fetched plates from the kitchen. If she didn’t, he’d just eat from the box. As she turned, she caught him staring at her, an odd look in his eyes. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah.” He reached out as she moved in to give him a plate. Flicking the collar of the shirt, he said, “That looks sort of familiar.”

  Heat rushed up to stain her cheeks red. “Well, finders keepers.” To cover up her embarrassment, she stuck her tongue out at him. “It’s comfortable.”

  He took the plate from her and she turned away, suddenly feeling a little too warm.

  Looking toward Selah, panic suddenly grabbed her—shit! The monitor was huge. She’d invested in a decent computer system since she did the website for the coffee shop on her own. Plus she liked a decent screen for gaming and the pictures she took—all of that meant one thing. It was too damn easy for her to see just what Selah was doing. That meant Decker could see.

  “Selah. Can you do that later?” she asked, keeping her voice casual.

  “Hell, no. This is too much fun. The assbag has no idea what a mistake he has made.” Devious amusement filled Selah’s voice and she started to mutter to herself in Spanish as she continued to pound at the keys.

  “Selah, let’s eat first and…”

  But it was too late. Decker had cut around her, plate in one hand, a slice of pizza in the other. “So what are you doing?”