Raising Steel (Men of Steel Book 9)

by Mj Fields

  Thankfully, the phone rings, and I quickly answer it, appreciating the interruption from a conversation I don’t want to have.

  “Josephina Steel.” I look up and cover the receiver. “I have to take this. Can we chat later?”

  They all look at me, none moving, all appearing as if they feel guilty for trying to do something nice.

  “Girls, I’m fine. We’ll discuss it, but I need to take this.”

  “We love you,” Carly whispers. “Forever.”

  I smile, nod, wink—hell, they probably think my head is going to explode since I am giving them so many expressions.

  They exit and I uncover the receiver.

  “Take me off your list. I am not interested,” I snap at the telemarketer before slamming down the receiver.

  I quickly grab my cell phone, my purse, throw on my sunglasses, and head out the door.

  “Momma?” I look up to see Jase.

  “I forgot I have an appointment. I’m gonna be late—”

  “Momma Joe.” He grabs my hand. “Their intentions are good.”

  “Of course,” I say, swallowing back tears as I hit the elevator door button, praying it will open soon.

  “Momma,” he says in a much softer voice than Jase ever uses. “Dad would want you to breathe. You gave us life, brought us to this point. You’ll bring us through every moment of everyday, but—”

  I slide in when the door opens. “I’ll be late. I’m fine. We’ll talk when I get back.”

  He steps forward as if he is going to come in.

  “Jase,” I warn.

  He stops immediately. “Forever Steel, Momma.”

  “Forever Steel.” I smile as the door closes then step back and take in a deep breath.

  The elevator door stops at the next floor. Of course it does.

  “Hey, Momma Joe,” Cyrus says when it opens. “You good?”

  “I’m late,” I use the excuse again as I step forward, holding up my hand and pressing the close button.

  His hand stops the door from closing. “But are you good?” He scowls at me.

  “Fantastic. Now go.” I force myself to smile.

  “Find me when you get back.”

  The door closes, and again I am able to breathe … until it stops again. Before I have a chance to shut the door, Xavier slides in.

  “Hey, Momma Joe.”

  “Xavier,” I say, now a little annoyed.

  “Where you off to?”

  “An appointment.”

  He links his fingers with mine and squeezes my hand. “Want company?”

  “Did you want company when you came back from Italy a year ago?”

  He smiles and shakes his head. “You really want to know what I wanted when I came back?”

  “No!” the door opens. “I love you, Xavier Steel. Now, get out.”

  He pulls me into a hug and kisses my cheek. “Love you, Momma.” Then he walks out.

  Three floors and I am relieved that I am just moments from walking as quickly away from this building as I can … until it stops on the second floor.

  “Fuck,” I sputter as Zandor walks in.

  “Kind of the point, don’t you think?”

  “Excuse?”

  “Momma, you need some lovin’, the kind we can’t—”

  “Zandor Steel …” I begin.

  “Josephina Steel.” He gives me a smug smile. “You are a beautiful woman, and—”

  “Enough.”

  “Momma, I just ran down a bunch of flights of stairs to get to you. You know why?”

  “I have an appointment,” I cut him off.

  “Momma,” he says as he grips my shoulders. “My brothers want you to have some you time. I, on the other hand, want you to find a man who can make you feel beautiful.”

  “Zandor,” I begin.

  “Who can make you remember what it is like to be loved—”

  “Zandor,” I warn again.

  “Someone who is going to make you—”

  “Enough!” I yell and push past him. “I’m late.”

  I practically run out of the building toward my car. I look back to make sure none of my four boys are following and hear breaks squeal.

  I look ahead to see Thomas’s black QX70 jerk to a stop.

  I wave my hand and yell sorry over my shoulder as I walk to my Denali.

  CHAPTER TWO

  I am clicking unlock on my key fob when the tears begin to spill. Then my hand is on the door handle when I hear someone behind me.

  “Josephina, is everything all right?”

  I know that it’s Thomas Higgins. He runs the medical research department here at Steel. For all intent and purpose, he is Carly’s stepfather, and more than a father to her than her real one. He is part of the family.

  I turn and nod. “Yes, I just have an appointment.”

  Thomas shakes his head as I slide into my vehicle. I start to shut the door, but he blocks my ability to do so.

  “Thomas.”

  “You’re running. You don’t run.”

  “You’re interfering. You don’t interfere,” I say, unable to hold my tongue anymore.

  “I do when I think someone is in trouble. Now how about you let me take you to your”—he pauses—“appointment?”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “No doubt, but can your kids, grandkids, your family at the shop, all the people you take care of on a daily basis?”

  I don’t respond, because if I do, I will be rude to a man who has been part of this family’s lives for a couple of years now.

  He reaches out and takes my hand. “Come on; I’ll give you a ride.”

  “You obviously have things to do.”

  “I was actually taking some personal time.”

  “Then you should take it.” When I try to pull my hand free, his grip tightens.

  “Sorry. I can’t let you drive when you’re upset.”

  “I’m not.”

  “You are.”

  “Thomas …”

  “I am not changing my mind.”

  I sigh louder than I expected to. “I can’t leave my car here.”

  “Then get out and into the passenger seat.”

  “No. Now I am going to be late.” I pull my hand free, and he lets me, but he doesn’t move.

  “The girls were in Carly’s office. I already know what is going on, and—”

  “It’s ridiculous. Totally ridiculous,” flies from my mouth as I step out.

  “They’re trying to give you back something. They’re trying to show you that you are as important to them as they are to you.”

  I follow him around my vehicle, and he opens the door. Once I get in, he closes it behind me. He then gets in the driver’s side, shuts the door, and starts up the vehicle.

  “Now, where is this appointment?”

  I look over at him, and he chuckles under his breath.

  “Well, where were you going?” I ask him.

  “It’s a long story.”

  “I have a few hours.” He pulls on to the road. “Carly.”

  “Carly, what?”

  “She has been pressuring me to date.” He runs his hand over his head.

  “So you were on your way to a date?”

  “I was pretending to be on my way to a lunch date,” he corrects me.

  “Pretending?”

  “Let’s just say I have had a few not so great experiences.”

  I am intrigued. “How long have you been dating?”

  “A year? I think a year.” He looks over and smiles. “None have held my interest for more than thirty minutes. Most have been very eager to be friends with … uh … benefits.”

  “They just come right out and ask for sex?”

  “It’s a different time now, Josephina.”

  “I shouldn’t be surprised. I mean, my sons have had many, many—”

  He laughs. “But they seem to have never really given the illusion of a date, now have they?”

  “I ra
ised very honest boys.” I nod.

  “Yes, you did.” He pulls into the gated community where both of our townhomes are. “Do you mind swinging by my place? I’d like to change.”

  “Of course.”

  He pulls into his driveway. “Come on in, Josephina.”

  I get out and follow him in.

  I have been here before, though never inside, just dropping off a meal when I have extra.

  He kicks his patent leather loafers off and walks through the entry. “Would you like a drink?”

  Before I have a chance to answer, he is pouring whiskey into one glass and then another. He walks over and hands me one as he loosens his tie with his other hand.

  “How about we blow off the rest of the day and get drunk?”

  I am shocked by this. Completely floored, actually.

  He laughs at the expression on my face. “We deserve it, don’t we?”

  “Well, you have taken the day off, and I am sure—”

  “You should, too.” He drinks back the amber liquor.

  I think for only a moment, and then I drink down the whiskey. “Yes.”

  He turns around and looks a little shocked himself. “Yes?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “All right, then. I’ll go change. Then maybe we can grab a cab and hit the shore?”

  “Not the shore. Somewhere … else.”

  “Somewhere your sons won’t find you?” he smirks.

  “Exactly.”

  “Aw, let them worry for a change.” He laughs.

  “I think that’s perfect.” I laugh, too.

  “Casual attire?” he asks.

  I look at him, standing in a suit with his tie undone. He is an attractive man, six foot tall with blue eyes, normally hidden behind glasses, and dark hair. His hair is somewhat slicked back, and he is wearing glasses.

  “Oh, I see. You don’t think I can do casual?”

  “No, that’s not what I’m thinking.” He gives me a look, one like he did in the parking lot, and shakes his head. It’s a look saying he knows I’m not being completely honest.

  “Okay, fine. I see you in suits at the office and khakis on holidays.”

  He laughs. “Well, you’re in suits yourself at the office and an apron on holidays, Josephina. Will you be wearing an apron?”

  “That’s a fair jab.” I laugh.

  “Not a jab,” he says. “Casual, then.” He walks up a few steps. “I’ll have the cab swing by in about thirty minutes. See you, then.”

  I grab my keys off the black wood entry table where he left them and head out the door to change.

  *.*.*.*

  After a quick shower, I stand in my closet and look at my clothes. I laugh, thinking I own more skirts, suit outfits, and sweaters than I do casual clothes. I grab a pair of jeans—light boot cut denim—and throw them on. They no longer fit like they did a year ago when I bought them, so I grab the black, thick, leather belt hanging to my left.

  All of my tops are dated or just too plain. I have several sundresses, but this seems to be more of a whiskey kind of night. I haven’t had one of those in years.

  Jonathon and I had date nights at home since we could never afford to go out. Not with the four boys and the expenses that came with having at least two in diapers or four growing boys going through jeans and tennis shoes nonstop.

  Moving constantly when he was in the military and having no one we trusted to watch them … Hell, who am I kidding? Jonathon and I often joked that, even if we did have someone we trusted, they would probably never come back. Those four were a handful, to say the least. But it wasn’t just that. We loved every minute we had with the little terrors, and during the moments that were painful, we needed no one except each other. As a result, Jack Daniels and our well-used bed served as our date nights.

  Thomas was right; I normally wear very bland clothing.

  I dig into the back and pull out a T-shirt that Jonathon used to lay on the bed as a hint that it was one of those nights. I throw on a bra, pull the black Jack Daniels T-shirt on, and then walk over to a trunk I had with clothes I would never allow myself to part with. I grab the black leather jacket Jonathon bought me right after we married, before I got pregnant with Cyrus. It is still like new, and like everything else that was once outdated, it has come back in style. Then again, classic black leather biker jackets never actually went out of style.

  Happy with my choice, I walk out to see I have ten minutes. I quickly blow dry my hair then apply some mascara before heading down the stairs to grab some shoes.

  I hear a knock on the door as I step into my black boots, ones I have only had the opportunity to wear a handful of times.

  As I open the door, I find Thomas has a look of shock on his face. Quite frankly, I am a bit stunned myself.

  His hair isn’t combed back; it’s actually a bit rumpled on the top.

  “Look at—” we both start to say at the same time and then laugh.

  “Josephina, you look … amazing.” He shakes his head. “I can see it now … I’ll be fighting them off you.”

  “Is that so?” I laugh, throwing my sunglasses on.

  “Unless, of course, you want men groveling at your”—he looks down at my feet—“boots.”

  “They can grovel all they want, Thomas. A woman likes attention once in awhile. But I can assure you, I can handle fighting them off.”

  “Right.” He steps back, holding the door open. “Shall we?”

  “Yes, we shall.”

  I grab for the taxi door, but he beats me to it. “Such a gentleman.” I laugh and slide in.

  He slides in next to me. “Where to?”

  “Anywhere they serve Jack Daniels sounds good to me.”

  “You heard the lady,” he says to the cab driver. “Take us out of town to some place with a good jukebox, a rowdy crowd, and Jack.”

  I look over as he settles back. He is wearing a gray Henley with three-quarter sleeves, black cargo pants, and some grey tennis shoes. He is very handsome, always has been, but there is something about a man in a suit that, well, does not do it for me.

  “I like this version of you. Very nice, relaxed even.” I smile.

  “Well, I left the pocket protector and beakers at home.” He smirks. “And you, Jose—”

  “Call me Joe,” I interrupt. “If we are to be drinking partners, I think that’s better, don’t you?”

  He laughs and cocks his head to the side. “Tom, then. Thomas was my father’s name.”

  “Oh, I don’t know if I can,” I joke. “Well, I guess the man sitting next to me now, sans the tie, can be Tom. However, at the office, you’ll still be Thomas.”

  “And you’ll still be Josephina.”

  I hold out my hand. “Shake on it.”

  After we shake hands, I look out the window and watch quietly as we pull out of town. The quiet allows me a moment to reflect on why I am actually here.

  My daughters and sons think they are giving me a gift. What they don’t know is there are demons in dark places, and those dark places are lonely.

  I have yet to break down and fully mourn the death of a man who was my everything. My family, the shop, and now Steel Inc. shed light on the darkness. I could barely get through the quiet time I endured. Now I can’t imagine what it will be like with even more.

  “You okay?”

  I look over at Thomas, who has pushed his sunglasses on his head, and nod while he shakes his head.

  I laugh, and he gives me a sad smile.

  CHAPTER THREE

  We walk into the dive bar—I didn’t even notice the name. It is dark and dingy, a place no one would expect to find two people like Thomas and me in the middle of the day.

  I look at Thomas, and he raises an eyebrow. “You all right here, Josephi—”

  “Joe,” I remind him with a smile. “Of course I am. Do you not remember the business I own?” He laughs. “The one without the suits, smart guy.”

  “I remember, all right,” he says as
he points to the bar where there are plenty of stools available.

  We sit and the bartender comes up. He looks me up and down, his face showing no expression. He obviously is giving us the tough guy stare.

  “I have boys who look more intimidating and have more ink than you, son, so how about you ask us what we want to drink and stow the badass?”

  Thomas chuckles as I lock eyes with the bartender.

  The bartender’s eyebrow lifts, and he shakes his head, points to my chest, slams two shot glasses on the bar, and pours two shots of Jack.

  “Perfect.” I nod to him. “Keep ‘em coming.” I hand Thomas his shot and hold up my glass.

  “To sneaking away.” He smiles and taps my glass.

  I smile as the liquors burn consumes me then push the glass up. “Another.”

  After several more shots, Thomas looks at me. “Think we should slow down a bit?”

  “Nope,” I say as I wipe my mouth and push the shot glass forward. “Excuse me for a moment.”

  I get up and walk to the bathroom labeled ‘Broads.’ I open the door carefully, expecting the worst, but am relieved when I see that it’s actually clean.

  After using the toilet, I look in the mirror as I am washing my hands. The mirror is old with a smoky film covering it, like a filter used for a selfie. I decide immediately all mirrors should be like this one. The fine lines on my face are almost invisible. I look an awful lot like my younger self. Looks can be deceiving, though.

  Lately, I have become more tired. I attribute it to the quiet moments, the time spent alone where memories rush down on me, leaving me missing him even more.

  I feel the tears building at break-neck speed, then ones I had halted when the girls gave me their schedule. The dam that would have normally held them is a little … weakened by drink, and I am unable to stop them from flooding down my face.

  I lean against the old radiator under the frosty window and allow it. I allow them to fall freely. There’s no sense in fighting it anymore.

  It is only when my shoulders shudder that I am keenly aware I am sobbing quietly in the bathroom of a bar.

  Anger joins sadness, and neither should be mixed with whiskey.

  “Joe?” I look up when Thomas walks in. “You’ve been gone awhile. I see why now.”