by Marie Harte
From shy to too blunt. It was like she had a mental deficiency that only appeared around good-looking men, and this one in particular.
Lou laughed. “Yeah. Sure.”
“Fine. Okay.” What? No. Yet her mouth didn’t seem to be conferring with her brain before spouting random words.
“Perfect. How about Nichols Caffè Bar next to the garage? Will NCB work?”
“Oh. I love their bear claws.” Stop talking!
“I’ll make sure to grab one for you.”
Unable to say anything else without coming across as a complete fool, she looked beyond him to the door.
He chuckled, took his flowers, and paused at the doorway, not looking back at her. Over his shoulder, he said, “You have my number if you want to back out. I only want a chance to get to know you, but I’m okay with the word ‘no.’ You don’t show for coffee, I won’t bug you again. But I hope I see you tomorrow, princesa.”
She watched him leave, her gaze drawn to that amazing ass until the door closed behind him. Food and a handsome man to watch while she ate.
What the hell was she thinking?
No. No. No.
After closing up the shop, she drove home in a daze. Joey hadn’t been on a date in months, the last guy a two-dinner wonder before she couldn’t take his small talk and überpoliteness anymore. Though she hadn’t been shy with Jim, she hadn’t been that attracted to him either. And before him, Adam had been the same. Predictably boring. What was wrong with her that only assholey, strong men flipped her switch? With them, she turned shy, flirty, lusty.
God, lusty. She missed sex so much—but only with a powerful man.
She was smart enough to steer clear of abusive jerks. Intelligent, savvy, worldly at the young age of twenty-four because she’d had to be, Joey had a brain she used daily. Well, maybe not tonight, saying yes to Lou Cortez.
Desiring a man so far out of her league, one who was clearly older and who might as well have trouble tattooed on his forehead, should have warned her off. God, he’d had her feeling nervous, excited, and aroused in the same breath. That turbulent feeling she got when in the presence of a man she knew would be bad for her. Oh, so bad.
She shivered. Apparently she hadn’t learned that much after all. Because she’d said yes to coffee. He’d even given her an out, told her she had only to call and beg off and he wouldn’t bother her again. A man who made her want, who made her feel things—not just physically but emotionally as well—and, yes, scared her, would go away if she asked him to.
Go away? That she didn’t want. Not yet.
Oh hell. He’s F-I-N-E fine, and I want to spend a little more time with him. It’s not like I’m doing anything more than coffee and a bear claw. The pastry made everything worth it. Because, of course, it was all about the bear claw.
She neared the house before remembering she had to pick up Brandon at his friend Kyle’s. She drove by, thanked Kyle’s family for having Brandon for dinner, then took her boy home.
“So then he spilled the milk, and his mom called him an asshole.”
Joey gaped at her third grader before turning her gaze back to the road. “Brandon!”
“Sorry, but that’s what she said. Under her breath, kind of. But I heard it, Mom.”
“Carly called Kyle a bad word?” Funny, PTA secretary Carly hadn’t seemed the type.
“No, she said that to Bob, Kyle’s dad.”
“You mean Mr. Sorenson.”
“No, they said to call them Carly and Bob.” Brandon grinned. “But Carly called him an asshole for daring Kyle to snort milk out his nose.”
She stifled a laugh. “Brandon, watch your mouth.”
“Sorry.” Under his breath he added, “Not sorry.”
She rolled her eyes. “So what did you do after school?”
As her son launched into a fascinating tale involving Kyle’s tadpoles and an epic experiment with a dirty dog, she couldn’t help thinking about how her life might have gone differently if she’d done everything her parents wanted. In Andrew and Amy Reeves’s imagined world, she’d have graduated college with a fancy degree, been making six figures, and made rounds with Ivy Leaguers before settling down with a millionaire CEO.
Instead, she had the best kid in the world, a management gig at S&J, and no Mr. Right in sight. And that suited her just fine. She didn’t count coffee with Lou as anything more than a thank-you. She wouldn’t let it be anything more.
After they returned home and Brandon finally stopped talking, she had him wash his face and brush his teeth to get ready for bed. Lots to do before he could sleep in their one-bedroom apartment above her parents’ garage.
“I’ll be right back,” she told him. “I just need to talk to Grandma about something.”
“Okay, Mom,” he said through toothpaste. She managed to translate a bunch of grunting and slurred words to “I’ll get a story and wait in bed.”
Joey walked down the side stairs then around the garage to the back door to the house. Just as soon as she could, she’d find them their own place. She’d been living at home forever. As a single mom on her salary in Seattle, Joey knew owning a home was nothing more than a distant dream. And renting something in a decent area? Nearly impossible. Having her mother watch Brandon after school had been a blessing she never took for granted.
Joey did her best to be mindful of how much she relied on her mother. She hated feeling like a charity case. Not that her mother seemed to mind. Now. Amy Reeves loved Brandon more than anything. Heck, more than me, Joey thought with a snort.
She found her parents in the kitchen, having dessert. Her father was addicted to chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. And yep, he was wolfing down a bowl and lecturing her mother about something, no doubt. Andrew Reeves had definite opinions on just about everything, yet twenty-five years after saying their I do’s, the pair was still in love. Yeah, because those who judged together stayed together.
Feeling bad about mentally dissing her parents, Joey cleared her throat and smiled at them.
They turned to her when she entered.
“Hi, guys. Brandon is brushing his teeth before heading to bed. I just wanted to say thanks for taking him to Carly’s, Mom. He had fun.”
“Good.” Amy smiled. “Want some ice cream, honey?”
“No thanks.” She paused. “I have some good news.”
“Oh?” Her father put his spoon down and gave her his undivided attention. A head supervisor at a medical clinic in town, he lived and breathed responsibility. The man had been supporting his family, always paying his bills, and working hard forever. She doubted he knew the meaning of the word vacation. She sure couldn’t recall ever taking one with the whole family.
“Yeah.” She felt nervous. “Today Stef told me I got the promotion. I’m the new manager, and that comes with a pay raise.”
“Why, honey, that’s wonderful.” Her mother gave her a hug and a kiss, beaming.
Joey felt calm then nervous, as if she stood on a tight wire waiting to fall off. Her father remained quiet as he studied her.
“Manager, hmm? After seven years, I’d hope so.” Then he added, “Congrats, honey. We’re proud of you.”
She blinked to keep her eyes dry. Her father so rarely said anything positive that she treasured the backhanded compliment. After a bit of chatter about her day, then her mother’s morning spent doing medical transcription from home and her father’s new doctors on staff, she left to go back to her place. She’d opened the back door when she realized she’d forgotten to mention an upcoming field trip to her mother. She shut the door and walked back toward the kitchen. When she heard her name mentioned, she slowed, still in the hallway out of sight.
“Manager.” Her father grunted. “Jesus, she’s been working in that dump since high school. She should be a full-out partner in the place.”
“
Andrew, Joey’s done a terrific thing. Like you, she set a goal and met it. Before you know it, she’ll be running her own set of flower shops. And be reasonable. She hadn’t even been full-time until three years ago.”
“Girl should have a master’s and a decent job by now. Hell, we should be able to rent that unit out to help with the bills. Instead it’s losing value.”
A familiar grumble, but this time it hurt Joey. A lot.
“You know that’s not true.”
“We’re not hurting for money, I know.” He sighed. “I’m sorry. I just can’t help wondering what would have happened if she’d kept her damn legs closed nine years ago.”
“Andrew, take that back,” her mother snapped. “I love my grandson, and I can’t imagine a world without him.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, his voice gruff. “I love Brandon too. I just meant I can’t stand how she’s screwed up her life. Her choices are so—”
Joey didn’t wait around to hear any more. Wiping tears from her cheeks, she eased her way out of the house, careful not to make a sound as she returned to her son.
It never went away. A mistake at fifteen continued to haunt her, nine years later. She’d made her peace with being a young single mother, and though she regretted giving her virginity to Brandon’s father, she’d never regretted having her son since she’d first held him. Not once.
But her father couldn’t see it that way. To him, Brandon was a sign of his daughter’s massive screwup. She’d spent the past nine years playing by his rules, living on the straight and narrow, having maybe a dozen dates and hardly any sex. And still she could never do right by her father. Never work hard enough, succeed enough, unless she could go back and undo that one night with Felix.
The only thing her dad approved of had been her decision to have Felix sign away his rights to his son. Her then-boyfriend had wanted her to get an abortion, but she had never considered that a possibility. There were some days, early on in her pregnancy, when she’d wished she had. The straight-A honor student working toward a full ride to the University of Washington had instead given birth to a baby boy, gotten her GED, and taken multiple classes from community colleges ever since to earn a degree in business while also working and mothering full-time.
But none of that meant anything to her father. And never would.
She didn’t know why she was surprised. She’d followed the rules her entire life. The one time she’d made an error in judgment, she’d paid for it and continued to pay for it with Andrew Reeves.
But she’d done something right. She entered her tiny unit and found Brandon in his twin bed across from hers, his Lego night-light on, his book open as he read and smiled at Brownie Bear’s antics. Love swelled for her baby, who wasn’t so little anymore.
No matter what her father said, Brandon was the best thing she’d ever done. And no amount of rule following or breaking would alter that.
She read to him before closing the book for bedtime.
“Good night, Brandon.” She kissed his forehead.
He surprised her with a hug as he pulled her down and squeezed. “Love you, Mommy.”
More tears, but these were happy, coming from a very warm place. “You too, baby.”
He smelled of toothpaste and soap and little boy. She pulled back and stared into brown eyes just like hers. If not for his blond hair, there would be no trace of Felix in the child. But it didn’t matter. Brandon held her heart as surely as if he remained a part of her, body and soul.
She left the single bedroom, closed the door, then entered the other room in her parents’ unit. A small kitchenette, complete with a tiny sink, mini-fridge, and counter, lay along one wall. A table and chairs separated the kitchen area from the living space. In the compact living room, she sat on the dark-red couch, which made out into a bed, and propped her feet up on the barn-wood coffee table. The place had charm despite its small size, filled with decent appliances and a nice TV and stereo.
But as Joey put on some mellow music and stared at the blank television, she thought about choices. About what following the rules had ever done for her. She pulled out Lou’s card from her back pocket and sent him a text before she could think herself out of it.
See you tomorrow at noon. Joey.
Mistake or not, Joey would live her own life. No more trying to please her father because, as she well knew, nothing she did short of turning back time would ever be good enough for Andrew Reeves.
Chapter 3
Lou considered himself a man who could move in many worlds. He worked with a great bunch of guys at Webster’s Garage, tough mechanics who talked a big game but would go to the mat for those they considered friends. He dealt with women day in and day out, his family chock-full of estrogen and issues. But he loved them like crazy, as much as they threatened to erode his sanity.
And then there was life at Heller’s Paint and Auto Body, a vastly different environment than Webster’s. With Del and the guys, Lou could talk smack, shoot the shit, and bitch about whatever he wanted. At Heller’s, the vibe was all professional all the time. No chaotic stations, not a speck of dust or disorder in the main office. And their coveralls were dark blue and free of holes. Clean of any extraneous substance but paint and/or sanding dust. No personal complaints, no chitchat about who was beating whose ass at darts, woman problems, man problems, nothing. No bullshit.
When Lou worked at Heller’s, he created, he painted, and like the other guys in Heller’s shop, he kept his personal crap to himself.
Or at least that’s the way Heller used to run the place. Lately, the guy had started to change. Lou wasn’t sure he liked this new, softer version of the taciturn giant with attitude, who now sometimes smiled.
“So. Have you been to Ray’s lately?” Heller asked, his German accent always present. He leaned over Lou’s shoulder as Lou sketched out what their newest client wanted to see on the hood of his ’72 Corvette. Allowing for the molding and width of the hood and side panels, Lou was trying to make sure he wrapped flames over the edge while keeping the grim reaper to scale.
“Sorry. What?” He glanced up and blinked, envisioning a horned helmet atop Heller’s blond head. Heller’s Paint and Auto Body, owned by a Viking born a few centuries after his time.
Heller had emigrated from Germany a few years after his birth. Then his parents had moved back to Stuttgart for some work, traveled around Bavaria, and managed to come back to the States seventeen years ago. Teenage Heller had been so in love with all things German, he’d refused to speak English for months.
Until his father had beaten sense into him. The elder Heller wasn’t a nice guy. But he’d created a man in his own image, if not sensibility.
Six-foot-six, built like a tank, and with the chiseled jaw and blond features of an Aryan poster child, Heller looked every bit as dangerous as he was. When Lou had first come to work for the guy, he’d worried he was being jerked around by a white power gangbanger. Turned out Heller had just had a bad haircut. Having grown his hair back, he kept it slightly long, so as not to be confused with a skinhead.
The guy said little, but over the years spent working with him, Lou had come to appreciate Heller’s dry sense of humor—buried way deep beneath muscles that made even Sam jealous.
None of the guys at Webster’s were small. Like Lou, they all worked out, mostly because they knew what it was like to be on the wrong end of a fist. But Heller put them all to shame.
“We’re going to Ray’s this Friday, actually,” Lou said, conscious of the dark-blue eyes regarding him without malice or pleasure. Predatory wolf eyes—something Heller and Del had in common. “Sam said to invite you and that the first beer was on him.”
Shockingly, Heller’s lips curled into a grin. It transformed the guy’s face from serial-killer savage to almost handsome. “Ja? I’ll be there.” He paused, coughed, and glanced down at Lou’s drawi
ng, trying to act casual. “So who else is coming?”
Lou totally knew where Heller was going with the question, but he’d make the guy work for answers. Just because. “Well, me and Sam. Johnny and Foley too, but not the girls unless Lara is working.” Johnny and Foley were the other two mouthy mechanics he worked with at Webster’s. Lara and Johnny were dating, and she still pulled shifts at the bar to support her nursing school tuition. Sam’s and Foley’s girls were too sweet for a dive bar like Ray’s. Lou didn’t think either would be there.
But that wasn’t who Heller wanted to know about.
“That’s good. The gang.” Heller grunted but didn’t move. He slowly looked back at Lou.
Damn impressive how the guy could look so intimidating without trying.
Heller waited.
Lou waited.
“And?” Heller growled.
“Oh, well, I think Sue might be working. Maybe Earl, Big J…” Lou laughed. “Oh relax, man. Rena will be on shift, I’m sure.” Rena was Del’s cousin and a sweetheart everyone loved. Some—he gave Heller a look—more than others.
Heller smiled. Again. Twice in one day. “Good. Now get to work. After the death painting”—he pointed to Lou’s sketch—“you have two jobs needing your attention. See if they’ll work, ja?”
“Yes, yes. Now leave me alone. Your big-ass body is scaring away all my creativity.”
Heller muttered something in German that Lou just knew wasn’t complimentary, so he responded in Spanish about Heller’s inability to reason and small dick size.
The big German just laughed as he walked away, a study in black. The guy wore yet another black T-shirt and jeans and those steel-toed tanks he called boots. Hallmark Heller.
Lou glanced at himself in comparison. Jeans, black boots, and a white tee. Maybe I need to start expanding my wardrobe. He leaned over the table, studying his drawing, and felt his phone vibrate in his back pocket. Which reminded him of a certain text.
