by Drea Stein
Colby said nothing, and Joe, happy with having goosed him, leaned his head against the window and closed his eyes.
Colby grunted. He could be very charming. Charm and hard work were part of the reason for his success. Of course, he hadn’t made the best impression today in his dirty work clothes. He checked in the mirror and swore. No one had told him he had grease on his face either. Nope, it was no wonder Tory had graciously blown him off when he’d offered to fix her car. She didn’t look like the kind of girl who usually went for mechanics. They were listening to an 80’s station, Joe’s choice and just then Billy Joel’s Uptown Girl came on the radio and he swore again, his hands gripped tight on the wheel. Joe chuckled but Colby frowned, not liking the irony. Or maybe what the Universe was trying to tell him.
Chapter 6
“No way, no how, I said I was buying,” Tory said as Lynn put a few bills down on the highly varnished bar top at Quent’s Pub.
“Not after the day you had.” Dr. Lynn Masters shook her head, her dark ponytail bobbing as a smile twisted up the corners of her lips.
“We’re supposed to be celebrating my promotion.” Tory thought for a moment and then looked at her friend with a sudden curiosity.
“You didn’t have anything to do with it?” Tory’s eyes narrowed as she fully considered the possibility.
“Me? Who, me? Why would you think that?” Lynn sounded innocent, but Tory didn’t like the way her friend’s eyes wouldn’t meet her own.
“Because Chase is practically your brother-in-law,” Tory pointed out. It was true. Lynn was engaged to Chase’s brother Jackson. And though they hadn’t set a wedding date like Chase and Phoebe, it wouldn’t be long before all these relationships were official.
“Well, he isn’t yet, and I don’t ever talk to him about business. But Chase did ask me if I thought you were smart.”
“And what did you say?”
“That if I ever wanted someone to hack into the Pentagon, you would be it.”
“That’s illegal. And doesn’t that make me sound like I have a certain moral flexibility?”
Lynn laughed. “That’s what Chase said, so I told him the truth.”
“What truth?” Tory asked.
“I said you are brilliant and that there are lots of places that would be happy to have you—you know, like that company, the one with all of those stores in the Northeast.”
“You didn’t tell him about that job offer, did you” Tory said in horror. “I told you that in confidence, and I wasn’t considering it, really, at all.”
Lynn raised one dark eyebrow as a smile played along her lips. It was British Invasion night at Quent’s, and she started to sing along to the U2 song that was playing.
“Ok, so it was just a little bit tempting, but … what if Chase had fired me instead?” Tory pointed out.
“He wouldn’t have done that. And I didn’t tell him all of the details about the other job, only that you seem to be awfully popular with headhunters. Besides, I did it selfishly.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you’re my friend. You’re going to be a bridesmaid at my wedding. I didn’t want you to have to plan my bachelorette party long distance.”
“Thanks, I think.” Tory took a sip of her beer. It was local, something new that Quentin, the owner and bartender, had recommended, and it was surprisingly good.
“C’mon, you know Chase wouldn’t have offered you the position if he didn’t think you could do it. I know you can. Don’t you?”
“It will be a challenge,” Tory said slowly, thinking about all that had happened during the work day. Saying her new job would be a challenge was the understatement of the year. And after what had happened to her car, it was all starting to feel a little overwhelming.
“We’re supposed to like those, right?” Lynn said, her voice only a little sarcastic. “You know, strap on our big girl panties and get the job done.”
Tory laughed. “Big girl panties? Seriously? What does that mean? Should we put on Wonder Women underwear?”
Lynn smiled smugly. “I’ve found red lace to be much more effective.”
Tory shook her head. “Ugh, too much information.”
“Well, then, to big girl panties!” Lynn said and raised her glass. They clinked, the sound echoing softly in the cozy, packed space. Quent’s Pub was a homage to all things British and hewed strictly to its theme with lots of dark wood paneling, a brass railing around the bar, cozy booths, flags of the various nations in the British Commonwealth and lots of sports memorabilia, all making it a homey place to spend a few hours on a blustery April evening. Rain had threatened as Tory was wrapping up with Uncle Hank, and it was pouring out now.
“Too bad about your car, though. Good thing you can practically walk to work.”
Her car, her beloved little green Mini Cooper. It was just a thing, she knew that, but it was sort of her baby. One of the first things she had bought on her own, paid for, in full, as of last month, and now it had a huge dent in it and no driver side mirror. She sighed. Just another reason not to get too attached to anything.
“What about that guy, the one with the truck? Did he have anything to do with it?”
“No, I thought so, even accused him of it.” Tory flashed back to Colby Reynolds’ easygoing stance, hands jammed in his pockets, a slight smile twisting up the corners of his mouth as he rocked back and forth on his ridiculous cowboy boots and listened to her accusations. Not once had he been flustered, and when he had replied, every word had dripped with his sexy Southern accent. At least he hadn’t been wearing a cowboy hat, or Tory knew she wouldn’t have been able to form a coherent sentence. She’d thought she was over being totally blindsided by a guy. She had let herself be once and it hadn’t ended well. I should know better, she thought, even as she couldn’t stop thinking about his eyes.
“How did he take it? I mean, he came in with his friend Joe, and they both seemed pretty calm, until he saw blood. Then he turned green and excused himself. He sounded like he had an accent, Southern maybe. He called me ‘ma’am’, and it didn’t sound like an insult,” Lynn mentioned, the tone in her voice casual, yet probing.
“I thought you said you were super busy today? That you could barely remember who was whom? You didn’t even treat Colby. How do you know what he sounded like?”
Lynn shrugged, a sly smile creeping over her pretty face. “Let’s just say there was something memorable about him. Must be that accent. There’s nothing quite like a Southern accent.”
Tory shook her head. “Doesn’t do it for me. It reminds me of Gone with the Wind and bad country music. Give me a nice Boston drawl any day.” It sounded false even to her own ears. Colby had had a very sexy accent, and she had definitely noticed every word he’d uttered. Still, trying to find flaws would only help her build a case against Colby’s attractiveness.
Lynn shook her head in disagreement. She was from Colorado, and Tory knew she still couldn’t quite get used to the hard, flat sounds of the Northeast.
“Oh, I think there may be a little room in your heart for a guy with nice blue eyes and a cute butt … I mean accent. It’s been a little slow in the guy department for you lately, hasn’t it?”
“You noticed they were blue?”
“Why, didn’t you?” Lynn asked, her voice dripping with feigned innocence.
“Aren’t you getting married?” Tory countered. She wondered why she was having such a hard time talking about Colby. She talked to Lynn about guys all of the time. She had started dating again, after Stevie. But she’d been careful, enjoying them for what they were. Dinner, perhaps a little kissing, occasionally something more. But she’d been careful to set the ground rules up front. She had no intention of getting involved. No Sunday brunches with the parents, no company holiday parties, no presents. And so far it had worked. She’d enjoyed herself but hadn’t lost herself. But she was bored. Bored to death of their talk of how they impressed their boss, or their golf game, or how they ha
d impressed their boss with their golf game. And all of them had wanted to take her to brunch with their parents.
The music switched up, to something from Oasis, and there was a group of happy hour celebrators in the corner who were getting loud, singing along and laughing hilariously at what they all were saying. Tory threw a glance over their way. She might have gone out on a date with one of them, the guy in the blue button-down. Then she shook her head. Three of them wore blue button-downs, and she was pretty sure that they all looked like guys she could have gone on dates with.
She bet Colby would never wear a blue button down. Or play golf with his boss. Or have a boss. She was certain that he wouldn’t want to eat brunch or want to buy her a silly expensive present. Maybe Colby was just the type of guy she needed for an interesting, diverting fling.
“I am getting married,” Lynn said, and Tory’s attention snapped back to her friend. She heard the real joy that had crept into her voice. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t notice nice blue eyes, polite manners and a very, umm, nice Southern accent when it walks into my clinic and tells me all of his friend’s bills are on him. Especially when you still need a date for Phoebe and Chase’s wedding.”
“I do not need a date.” Tory said. Dating Colby was the last thing on her mind. Sure she was thinking entirely too much about Colby’s twinkling blue eyes, the way his mouth had been permanently quirked up in a smile as if he found her brusqueness amusing, the way the slight hint of stubble on his cheeks had been quite attractive and the way his honey smooth Southern accent had made her just a little bit hot and bothered. But she didn’t want to date him. She just wanted to take him for a test drive.
As for the wedding, she was pretty certain she was going solo. And that was fine by her. She wanted to have a good time, not worry whether or not her date was enjoying the shrimp cocktail and what he thought might or might not happen afterward. She didn’t need anyone with any expectations messing up her plans.
Nope, she didn’t want to think of any of those things. She had a new job to focus on and a car to get fixed. An insurance adjuster would be coming up tomorrow to take a look at the damage and give her a list of body shops that would fix the car. Uncle Hank said he’d request the surveillance tapes and let her know what he found, but that she shouldn’t get her hopes up—and that, as far as crimes went, it was pretty minor. In other words, in his nice, slightly avuncular way, he was telling her not to get her panties, big girl ones or not, in a twist about this.
“I gather he does something with cars,” Lynn was saying, and then she slapped her palm on the dark, gleaming wood of the bar, as if she had just had a brainstorm. Tory brought her attention back to her friend.
“So maybe that means he can fix your car for you.”
“What happened, luv, have car problems?” Quentin asked, enormous muscle-bound arms folded across his equally solid chest. Tory could never decide if Quentin was stocky—a layer of muscle covered by a layer of fat—or mostly muscle, the thick, don’t-mess-with-me kind. As usual, Quentin’s accent was a cross between being vaguely British and something else—Brooklyn, maybe, Tory thought, but she’d never been bold enough to ask him. At Quent’s, he asked the questions, no exceptions, and if he wanted you to think he was as English as the décor in his pub, then so be it.
“Someone did a hit and run on Tory’s Mini while it was parked. She’s got a huge dent in it.” Lynn supplied the information as she held out her glass for a refill of red wine.
Tory nodded when he eyed her almost-empty pint glass, and he took it, dumped it in his sink and poured her a fresh one.
“Too bad, it’s a nice car. If you need someone to help you fix things, let me know. I know some people,” Quentin said and walked toward the other end of the bar to serve some other thirsty customers.
“To fix my car or the guy who hit it?” Tory muttered, and Lynn laughed. No one was quite sure where Quentin had come from, and even though there had never been any trouble with him—or from him—there was a slightly menacing and mysterious air about him. Tory and Lynn thought he might be on the run from the mob, hiding out in Queensbay. That theory had been shot down by their friend Phoebe, who had pointed out that they were entirely too close to New York for Queensbay to be a safe refuge from anything as dangerous as the mob.
Still, they had all agreed it wouldn’t do to get on his bad side. Luckily, if you were a paying customer, Quentin’s bark was much worse than his bite.
“You should totally call Colby to fix your car. It looks like he’s very good with his hands,” Lynn said, and it came out as almost a giggle. Tory rolled her eyes. She would have to cut Lynn off after this second glass of wine, or she’d never hear the end of it from Jackson, Lynn’s fiancé.
“Who’s Colby?” Phoebe Ryan said breathlessly, looking like the picture of a classic California beach girl with white capris, a flowing top and her blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail.
“The guy who’s going to fix Tory … I mean fix Tory’s car,” Lynn said with another giggle.
Phoebe carefully shook the water off her umbrella, hung it on a hook and took a seat on a barstool. Without asking, Quentin served her a white wine.
“I wasn’t aware that Tory needed fixing. From what I heard, she’s doing great. Congratulations on your promotion,” Phoebe said and raised her glass in a toast.
Tory clinked her glass with Phoebe but looked long and hard at her friend. “You didn’t have anything to do with it?” she asked.
“Of course I did,” Phoebe assured her.
“What do you mean?” Tory asked, shocked by her answer. She didn’t think Phoebe had it in her to make Horace retire, but you never knew.
Phoebe sighed. “I simply told Chase he’d be an ass not to. Everyone, except for you possibly, knows you’re the real brains in the tech department. Even old Horace. I think he was glad to have you around so he could spend more time fishing. It was about time he retired and you got the job.”
“And that’s all you said to Chase? You didn’t…?”
“What? Threaten him?” Phoebe looked at her with a wicked grin. “I never kiss and tell, ladies, never.”
Lynn sighed. “I know. That’s why you’re no fun. And Tory here hasn’t had an interesting date in weeks. I don’t think she’s even had sex in months. I think you’ve worked your way through the entire eligible male population of Queensbay.”
“I don’t think you can call it ‘dating’ when you only ever go out with them once. Or meet them at Quent’s for a round of beer after a softball game,” Phoebe said.
Tory shrugged. “I’ve just been focused on my career. Looks like I made the right move.”
Lynn stared at her, a considering look in her eye. “Oh, I think there’s much more to the story, Date’m and Dump’em Tory.”
Tory rolled her eyes. She hated that nickname and they knew it. “You know my deal. I don’t have expectations of meeting the one. Hell, I don’t even believe in the one. You guys might believe in moonlight kisses and fairy tales, but you know it’s statistically impossible that there is ‘the one’ out there. Despite what the two of you may believe.”
“Just because you had one bad experience doesn’t mean all men are like that.”
Tory slid her eyes away from Phoebe’s knowing look. She had told her friends about Stevie, the barest of details, just that she’d practically been engaged and it hadn’t worked out. She had even told them why, that it was because Stevie had gotten back together with his ex. Lynn and Phoebe had been sympathetic, but neither of them had been living in town when it had happened. None of her had seen her after. Chase, though had. And Tory had a feeling he hadn’t kept his opinions to himself.
Still, it didn’t matter how depressed she had been after Stevie had left. She would never let herself get lost in a relationship like that again. And so she had formed a clear philosophy for them.
“Getting shot by cupid’s arrow is just something for plotline of chick flicks. Give me a sci-fi movie anytime.
” Tory said, finally.
“That’s our Tory, always so romantic,” Lynn said, swirling the liquid in her glass.
“I believe in having fun, in not making a big deal of things. And lately, it just seemed smarter to focus on my career.”
Lynn rolled her eyes. “All work and no play makes Tory dull and frowny. When was the last time you actually got lucky? You have your own place now. Has that bed seen any action yet?”
“Maybe,” Tory shrugged, “maybe not. I’ve just been busy; that’s all. I like to keep my relationships casual, you know?” Tory tried not to sound defensive.
“So you’re telling me that that two-timing Stevie was the last long-term relationship you had?” Lynn asked.
Tory hesitated, not quite sure what to say. He’d been her only long-term relationship. She’d thought he’d be her forever relationship.
“Sounds to me like you’re using one bad experience to avoid moving forward,” she pointed out in her best authoritative voice.
“Ok, doctor, no more psychoanalyzing me. Anyway, you’re not even that kind of doctor. Next time I have a boo-boo and need a Band-Aid, I’ll come and see you, but right now I’m very happy with my life,” Tory said, knowing that she sounded unbelievably prim, but it was all she could do to keep her voice under control. The thought of moving forward in a relationship was sending her into a bit of a panic, but she didn’t want her friends to see that.
They had never known that Tory, the one who hadn’t been able to get out of bed for a week. The one who’d wandered around for a whole year in a daze of shame, and hurt and anger. The one who had eaten ice cream for dinner and gained fifteen pounds. That’s when she had decided to start running marathons. At least on good thing had come of that. But the last thing she needed right now was any sort of complicated relationship. Not with her career taking off and her life finally back on track.
Lynn looked as if she were about to say something more, but Phoebe cut her off by bringing up wedding plans. Tory threw her a thankful look, and it took only a moment for the conversation to veer away from Tory’s love life and onto flowers, dresses and place settings.
