As I came out of the drug store, a brown tweed sport jacket caught my eye. My heart leaped into my throat. I knew that coat and the dark-haired man who wore it. It was Harold, striding along the sidewalk, alone and confident. He paused in front of the cigar shop before going inside. I ducked into an alley, placing a hand on my chest, and struggled to maintain my cool. Part of me wanted to confront him. The other part knew better. I’d already tried that and had spent a night in jail for my efforts.
Once my pulse returned to normal, I donned the cheap, blond wig I’d purchased online and an oversized pair of black sunglasses. Things I kept in my bag to use whenever the opportunity presented itself. I drew in a deep breath. This was either crazy or brave. I had no idea which. All I knew was that I couldn’t afford to get caught again.
When Harold exited the store, I tailed him, taking care to stay at a reasonable distance. At the end of the block, he met a tall, thin woman with shiny hair and a long nose. I hid behind a Dumpster and peered around the side. They hugged then shared a lingering kiss. This was the girl who’d stolen my place. I wrinkled my nose in distaste then sucked in a horrified breath. Zipper, my sweet terrier mutt, danced at the woman’s feet on the end of a rhinestone studded leash. I blinked back tears of happiness and dismay. At least the little guy was okay. Did he miss me? It took all my self-control to keep from snatching the dog and running away with him.
“What’re you doing?” A familiar male voice rumbled in my left ear.
My heartbeat thundered. I placed a hand on my chest, breathing through the fright. “Nothing.”
Carter’s golden eyes roved over the wig, staring through the dark lenses of the sunglasses, amusement obvious in the lines around his mouth. I tried to push past him, mortified beyond belief, but he blocked my path with an outstretched arm. “Oh, you’re definitely up to something. Care to let me in on the fun?”
“Go away.” I tried to shoo him into the street, but he didn’t budge. “You’re going to ruin everything.” In the meantime, Harold and his floozy began to walk in the opposite direction. I shoved Carter aside, eager to keep my dog in sight. How could I stay anonymous with a long-haired tattooed sex god at my side? Every female pair of eyes—and a few male—turned to watch him.
“Ruin what?” he asked, falling into step beside me.
The couple stopped at the crosswalk to the park. I ducked into the gap between two buildings, tugging Carter into the narrow space with me. His laughter echoed against the brick walls.
“Is this some kind of game? Because I like it.”
“Hush.” I tried hard to ignore the press of his hard chest against my shoulders, the firm lines of his muscles, the bite of his belt buckle into my back.
He peered over my shoulder, following my gaze. When Harold stepped into the street, I bolted after them, careful to keep my distance. Carter kept pace beside me, his long legs matching the stride of my shorter ones.
“You’re following them, aren’t you?” His bright eyes scoured my face. “Why, you little stalker you.” The mirth in his voice ruffled my self-restraint.
I punched him in the shoulder. “Shut up. Seriously.”
Harold and his fiancée passed through the park gate. The girl unhooked the leash from Zipper’s collar. He gave a joyful yip and ran in circles around their feet. Tears burned my eyes. He’d been my dog for the past ten years. Mine. I’d nursed him from a bottle as a puppy, prayed for him when he’d been hit by a car, and let him sleep beneath the covers of my bed every night until Harold had stolen him.
Seeing my distress, Carter sobered. “Who are they?”
“The guy is my ex. The girl is his fiancée.” I stared across the park, watching Zipper harass the pigeons while Harold held his fiancée’s hand. It was like watching an alternate universe. That should have been my life. I should have been sitting in the park with my fiancé and my dog instead of slaving away behind a counter, pouring coffee, and tending to my middle-aged father. I lifted my chin, determined to maintain my dignity. “We had a—a—difficult breakup.”
“Oh, I get it.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. A whisper of wind lifted the leaves overhead, swirling the sweet scent of honeysuckle around us.
“No. You don’t.” How could I explain this complicated mess to someone like him? He’d never understand. Hell, I didn’t understand. Harold took his fiancée’s hand, whistled to Zipper, and they disappeared through the gate on the opposite side of the park. I dropped my head into my hands.
“Sure I do. He dumped you. Now, you’re obsessed and you want him back.” His eyes narrowed. “You’re not planning to knock him off, are you?”
“No.” I sank onto the nearest bench and pulled off the wig. Carter sat beside me, stretching his long legs out in front of him, resting his arms across the bench behind us. His bicep brushed the nape of my neck, sending a thrill down my spine.
“I hate to point out the obvious, but stalking the guy isn’t going to work.” I shifted away from his arm, but the heat of his body shimmered down my side. Even when we weren’t touching, I could still feel him. “You know that, right?”
I didn’t answer, taking a few minutes to formulate a response. When Mom had died, there hadn’t been time to think about anything but holding my family together. Dad had fallen into a funk and had never recovered. Bronte had a new and successful career, and now a boyfriend. I’d taken over the coffee shop and had put every ounce of effort into keeping it alive, because there wasn’t anyone else to do it. Harold hadn’t understood the importance of my family. He’d resented the time I spent at work, my father’s illness, Bronte’s special needs. How could I love a man who’d left me when I needed him the most?
“It’s complicated.” To avoid Carter’s scrutiny, I concentrated on the hem of my shirt, toying with the fabric. He probably thought I was crazy, and maybe I was.
The hard length of his thigh bumped against my leg, alighting my nerve endings. “I’ve got plenty of time.”
Chapter 9
Carter
The air chilled and ruffled through the branches of the trees. Jo stared straight ahead. God, she was lovely in the afternoon light. An errant ray of sun illuminated the auburn highlights in her dark hair. A stray lock dangled over one eye, fluttering on the light breeze. I brushed the silky strand behind her ear, feeling a shiver course through my fingers at the touch of her skin against mine.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” The line of her jaw set stubbornly, but unshed tears glimmered in her eyes. “He dumped me. He doesn’t love me. End of story.”
What kind of fucker wouldn’t love her? Anger flared in my chest. “Then he’s a fool,” I said. I hated the bastard for making her cry. I hated the way her lower lip quivered. I hated the way her tears made me feel helpless. “You’re a force to be reckoned with, Jo Hollander, and if he can’t see you the way I see you—amazing, strong, determined—then he’s an idiot.”
“Obviously.” Her eyes met mine, still shiny with hurt. She lifted her chin higher.
“You want me to go over there and punch him?” I said, only half joking.
“No.” She recoiled, then a tiny smile tilted the corners of her lips. “Well, yes, that would be awesome, but no. He’s not worth it.”
“If you change your mind, let me know.” I flexed my fingers, thinking how good it would feel to break that skinny guy’s straight nose. I’d taken an instant dislike to his stuffy blazer, the scarf around his neck, and his shiny loafers.
“Let’s go.” She stood, all traces of tears gone from her cheeks and a steely strength straightening her shoulders. “This was a waste of time. Can you take me home?”
We made the trip in silence. When I pulled the vehicle into her driveway, I shut off the engine and faced her. She smiled, but I saw through the façade. I hated seeing her so upset but admired the way she fought to be brave. Our eyes met. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t look away. I wanted to take her in my arms, suck her full bottom lip into my mouth, and never let
it go.
“Well, thanks for the ride.” Her hand reached for the door handle, spurring me into action.
“Hold up.” I hopped out of the car, jogged to the other side, and opened the door. On the way, I passed her car, still sitting in the same place. “What’s up with your ride?”
“The transmission is out.” A heavy sigh lifted her boobs. I tried not to stare. “It’s low on my list of priorities right now.”
“I could take a look at it if you want.” The offer popped out before I could stop it. “I’m not a mechanic, but I know my way around a car.”
“Thanks, but no. You’ve done more than enough.”
“I know I don’t have to. I want to.” And there it was, plain and simple. I wanted to help her. “Besides, I enjoy it.” I extended a hand to help her down from the seat then closed the door behind her.
“Well, I suppose you can’t mess it up any worse than it already is.”
“Your confidence is underwhelming.”
We both laughed. I placed a hand below her shoulders, guiding her around the front of the car, toward the house. Her dad met us at the front door. Like before, he was wearing a white T-shirt and boxer shorts.
“What’s going on? Is everything okay?” he asked, eyeing me suspiciously, his gaze bouncing from Jo’s red-rimmed eyes to my face.
“Everything’s fine, Dad. Get in the house before the neighbors see you.” She flapped a hand, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
“I thought you two weren’t dating.” His eyes met mine, eyes exactly like Jo’s and full of fatherly protectiveness.
“We’re not,” Jo and I said in unison.
“He gave me a lift home from the coffee shop,” she continued. “He’s going to check out my car.”
“If you don’t mind,” I added, not wanting to step on his authority as man of the house.
“I don’t mind,” he said. “I’ve got a hydraulic lift. You can put it up and take a look.”
Two car doors slammed in the driveway. The three of us snapped our heads in the direction of the sounds. Bronte’s red head appeared on the other side of the screen door, followed by Rhett’s brown one.
“Hey, Dad.” Bronte planted a kiss on her father’s cheek then narrowed her eyes at my hand on Jo’s back. I pulled it away and used it to ruffle my hair. I hadn’t even realized I was still touching her; it had felt so right there. Jo stepped aside, widening the gap between us. Bronte’s gaze bounced between me and her sister. “What are you guys doing?”
“Yeah, what are you doing here?” Rhett lifted an eyebrow at me. “Hey, Mr. H. Good to see you.”
“I gave her a ride home,” I said, feeling like I’d been caught with my hand in the cookie jar.
“Carter’s going to take a look at my car,” Jo said, her flush deepening from rose to scarlet.
“I’ll get the key to the garage,” Mr. H said. “You boys wanna push the car down the driveway?”
“Sure,” I said with a slow shake of my head for Rhett. Whatever he was thinking, he needed to keep it to himself.
“You guys want a beer?” Jo asked, moving toward the kitchen. Mr. H followed her, his step lighter than before. Jo extended an arm, blocking his path. “For God’s sake, Dad, put on some pants, would you?”
A chuckle bounced up my throat. I coughed and cleared my throat to stifle it. Rhett smirked, catching my gaze.
Mr. H disappeared into the laundry room and came out wearing a pair of well-worn blue jeans and a gray T-shirt. Fully dressed, he looked less broken and younger. He dangled a set of keys from his hand. “Come on, boys. Let’s take a look at that car.”
Mr. H had a three-bay fully equipped garage behind the house. When he lifted the middle overhead door, Rhett let out a low whistle. A 1967 Oldsmobile 442 sat in the left bay. I made a straight line to it and trailed a hand over the front fender.
“You like that?” Mr. H asked.
“Hell yes. Who wouldn’t?” I bent to peer through the dusty window.
“All original from bumper to bumper.” The pride in the man’s voice was unmistakable. “Only forty thousand miles on it. Needs some work though.”
“It’s a shame to see it just sitting here,” Rhett said. We stared at the car in admiration. “Why don’t you fix it up?”
“I bought it for my wife. She had a car just like this when we met.” His shoulders dipped and the light left his eyes. “After she was gone, I didn’t see much use in it anymore. Too many memories.”
“Rhett and I worked at a garage, changing oil and doing tune-ups when were in high school.” I jumped to another topic of conversation, hoping to ease his distress. “You’ve got a nice setup in here.”
“Thanks. When I was younger, I spent a lot of time out here, when cars were simple. I’m not much with new ones.” He turned away from the Oldsmobile and back to Jo’s car. “I’ll try to help if I can though.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Rhett nodded toward the dilapidated Chevy. “Let’s get her on the lift and see what’s going on.”
Mr. H took the wheel while Rhett and I pushed the car from the rear. I could tell Rhett had something to say by the way his eyes sparkled. When Mr. H stepped away to activate the lift, Rhett searched my face.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I said, frowning.
“What are you up to?”
“Nothing. Can’t a guy help a girl out?” I tried to walk past him, but he stepped into my path.
“You don’t do anything without an agenda. It’s not the way you’re built.” When I tried to go around him again, he put a hand on my arm. “Don’t mess with my family, Carter.”
“I’m not messing with them.” His accusation stung. Did he really think I’d stoop so low?
“Then what are you doing here? With Jo? Look me in the eyes and tell me you’re not up to something.”
I clenched my jaw before staring him straight in the eyes. “I’m not up to anything. I like Jo. She needs some help. I can help her. Give me a fucking break.” We glared at each other. “I mean it.”
“Okay.” His hand dropped to his side, tone wary.
Jo entered the garage, carrying a tray of canned beers and snacks. The swing of her round bottom redirected my attention. Rhett saw the trajectory of my gaze and scowled. I looked back at Jo. This time all I saw were her long-lashed eyes. They stared at me and into me, clear and knowing and kind and filled with heat. I forgot to worry about Rhett or the car or Mr. H. I took the tray from Jo, rewarded by her smile, and grinned back.
“Jesus, Carter,” Rhett muttered under his breath, still at my side. “You promised.”
“Well, I’m unpromising,” I replied, my gaze continuing to follow Jo as she stood beside her dad. I rarely, if ever, went back on a promise, but this one I couldn’t keep. I wanted Jo Hollander in my bed, and no one, not even my best friend, could stop me from trying to get her there.
Chapter 10
Jo
The past few years of my life had been filled with tragedy and sadness, but the sight of my dad laughing with Carter and Rhett, grease smudged on his cheek, and a spring in his step, brought a lightness to my heart I hadn’t thought possible. My sister and I retreated to the sidelines, watching the miracle with awe. Testosterone filled the garage. Deep male laughter echoed between the walls. I drew in a steadying breath, reveling in the atmosphere.
“I can’t believe it,” Bronte said, shaking her head.
“It’s amazing.” The tunes of an upbeat pop song came on the radio. Dad tapped the toe of his shoe on the concrete floor.
“I haven’t seen him smile like that since—” My sister’s voice died away.
“I know.” I stroked a hand down her soft hair. In this light, she looked so much like Mom, same upturned nose, same freckled skin. Everyone said that I resembled Mother the most while Bronte favored our father, but I could see a mixture of both parents in her features. I swallowed down a lump of nostalgia and happiness. “What about you? Are you happy? With Rhett, I mean?”
“Yes.” The way her eyes lit up at the mention of his name answered my questions. “He’s good to me, Jo. Yesterday, I freaked out a little when a lady bumped our cart at the grocery store. He was so understanding. He took my hand and made me laugh. And he’s always doing nice things for me, like bringing me chocolate, and he always, always puts the toilet seat down.”
“I’m happy for you,” I said. Little things meant so much to Bronte.
“And we have sex all the time. Constantly.” Her smile brightened the shadowy corners of the garage. “He can’t keep his hands off me.”
As if sensing her words, Rhett glanced at Bronte from beneath the hood of the car and smiled. My chest swelled at the depth of affection in his gaze.
Although I was happy for her, I was a bit envious too. No man had ever been able to keep his hands off me, not even Harold. I wanted that kind of love for myself. The dream of my own home and family had withered and died with Mom. My future consisted of endless days and nights at the coffee shop and caring for Dad.
“What about you?” Bronte squeezed my hand. “I know you’re not happy. You work too much, and you never go out anymore. Dad and I appreciate all that you’ve done for us, but it’s time you take back your life.”
“When?” The single word contained a world of frustration. “There’s too much to do.”
“I don’t have the answers, but you need to make the time, Jo.”
“I’m fine.” I avoided her worried gaze, crossing my arms over my chest. Rhett continued to smile at Bronte. Carter glanced up from the engine to determine the source of his distraction. Our gazes collided with the impact of two speeding freight cars. An electrical charge ignited beneath my ribs, detonating tiny explosions of desire and lust. The smile slipped from Carter’s face. He felt it—the friction and heat that came whenever our eyes met.
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