by Jayne Rylon
“When she died.” Tom sniffled now, too. “There’s a copy in that box over on the dresser.”
“I’m sorry.” She hadn’t meant to hurt him with her reminiscences.
“It’s okay.” He took a few deep breaths then said, “It’s just that I know she would have hated letting you down. Even if it was because she was terminally ill. It happened so damn fast. We didn’t have a lot of plans in place. For us personally and definitely not for the charity. The shelter had always been her baby and the garage mine, so I didn’t know how to step in and I was too grief-stricken to hire the right people at first. We were young. Never expected something like that to happen. Things slipped through the cracks. You slipped through the cracks. Oh God, Willie. I’m sorry.”
“Hang on, that’s not why I told you that.” She never wanted to wound him. “I only wanted to say that I understand. Why you still love her, I mean. She was special.”
“I’m sure your Steven was, too.” He hugged her harder. “I can’t even imagine what it must have been like to get that news. Well, kind of. I remember the day I came home and found Michelle sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea. It was about a week after Valentine’s Day and she was sitting there staring at the wilted roses I’d bought her. I looked at her and I knew. I just fucking knew. She didn’t even last through the spring.”
“Maybe that’s why we’re both so screwed up still?” Willie looked up to him, cupping his salt-and-pepper-stubbled cheek in her palm. “It was so unexpected. Over before you could really say goodbye.”
“Worse for you.” He shook his head. After a couple ragged breaths, he pushed on, as if refusing to lock everything away again now that they’d dragged it out into the open. “Will you tell me why you believe Steven’s accident was your fault?”
The hiss that left her would have been appropriate if an arrow had punctured her lung and let the air wheeze out. Felt that way too. Direct hit.
For a moment the room spun.
“Hey, hey.” Tom squeezed her tight. “I shouldn’t have asked. If you’re not ready—”
“No.” In the dead of the night she found she wanted to share this with him once and for all. “It’s okay. It’s almost been a quarter of a century. If now’s not the time, it never will be. And Tommy, I’m getting tired.”
He knew she wasn’t talking about her lack of sleep either.
“I know. Me too.” He kissed her forehead.
For a moment, she wished he’d forget this talking nonsense and take action instead. It might be nice to blot out their sadness with bliss. She wouldn’t know how to make a move on a man if her life depended on it though, having pretty much zero experience in modern dating, or dating at all for that matter, since she and Steven had been childhood sweethearts.
“We’d been getting harassing letters. Phone calls in the middle of the night. Threats spray-painted on the side of the house every once in a while. It wasn’t really anything new, we’d been hearing that racial garbage since we were twelve and best friends.” She paused. “But it seemed…different.”
“How so?”
“More vicious. I got the feeling Steven wasn’t even telling me everything. Like maybe there had been an incident at his job, too,” she confessed. “I could tell he was hiding something. I should have pushed him to tell me. He could be overbearingly protective. Like some other man I know.”
Tom shrugged as if it wasn’t such a bad trait. “Can’t say I blame him. I look out for my own.”
“Yeah, well…” She took a shaky breath then closed her eyes as if it would shield her from what she was about to say. “I did a lot of poking around in the days after the accident. It was more of an on-purpose incident. There were too many things that didn’t add up. The delivery truck driver said he saw another car tailing Steven, driving aggressively, shoving the car over the center line. You could see proof of it on the road. Skid marks from more than one car. The police said there was nothing they could do. The driver had been too busy trying to avoid Steven to get much more than a glimpse at the other vehicle. Old, dark paint, black or maybe blue. Not much to go on, you know?”
“Jesus.” Tom clutched her to him.
“Who would do that to him?” It still ate at her. “He didn’t have any enemies except those he’d made because of me. He was a nice man, a decent one, too. Like you said, it’s okay to admit we’re all flawed. Looking back, I think he wasn’t so great at confrontation, or very motivated to improve. Passive, I guess you’d say. He never stood up to the people who bullied us, but what could he have done anyway?”
“It sounds like our styles were different. He shielded you by turning the other cheek and keeping you in the dark. Hell, that could have put you in more danger. What if they hadn’t left you alone after they took care of him?”
“That’s why I took the girls and left. We had nothing except what I could fit in a single suitcase when I ran, not that we had a heck of a lot more than that anyway. Nothing important. I hopped on the first bus headed north and went as far as the fare would take me.”
“If I were him, I’d have opted for something more direct. I sure as shit would never have stood by and let a bunch of assholes threaten my family.” Tom shook his head. “Sorry, Willie, I don’t mean to speak ill of a dead man, but you know that’s true.”
She did. After all, in the past year alone she’d watched him wrestle custody of Quinn from his abusive mother, help Roman and Gavyn battle addiction issues, negotiate a deal to protect Kaelyn and Bryce from their Senator fathers, and heard stories about the lengths he’d gone to in order to make sure Sally could never be bothered by the religious cult she’d been born into. He was superhuman in her eyes.
A fixer.
A doer.
A lover.
Damn if that didn’t make her burrow closer to him.
Tom cradled her, nuzzling her temple with his chin. “I think it’s time we both admitted that we’ve spent so much time looking in the rearview mirror that we might have missed some of the scenery around us.”
“That’s true.” Cutting him a break, she said, “You at least had reasons. You concentrated on helping others. The Hot Rods are thriving today because of you.”
“Your daughters are pretty amazing women, too, Willie.” He ran his fingers through her hair.
“Sometimes I think that’s in spite of having me as their mom, not because of it.” She shook her head.
“It’s not. They’re brave and hardworking, just like you. If your Steven were still here, he’d tell you that, too.” Tom shifted, pulling her into his lap so he could look at her when he said, “Actually, I think what our partners would say to us if they could, is that we should stop wishing for what’s gone and make the most of what we have. Don’t you think?”
It was impossible to argue when he stared into her eyes so intently.
So she nodded—a tiny shake of her head as she swallowed hard.
“Good.” He smiled, slow and wide. “Then I think you should know I’m ready. To try this again. It’s okay if you’re not. I’m clearly not in a hurry. I will make you mine sooner or later, Ms. Brown.”
The kids’ name for her had her chuckling.
“You think that’s funny?” He growled as he flipped them, holding himself above her on straight-locked arms. “I’m a patient man, but I’m not joking, Willie.”
With him looming above her, it was impossible to argue how damn attractive he was. Parts of her she hadn’t used in so long she thought they might have fallen off, stood up and cheered as he descended slowly, entrapping her in his heat and the cage made by his muscular frame.
It was one she wasn’t sure she wanted to escape.
So when he let his head drop, his mouth lowering to within a hairsbreadth of her own, she didn’t flinch from his touch or shy away from the raw emotion in his gaze.
“Are you okay with this?” Polite and cautious as ever, he checked in with her, only heightening her anticipation.
“Tommy, if yo
u don’t kiss me right now I’m going to—”
Fortunately, she never got to finish that threat.
As if exacting revenge for the silly nickname no one else dared to use in reference to the tough garage owner, he wasn’t quite gentle with her. His hunger was apparent when he first nibbled on her bottom lip, drawing it between his own before cursing then sealing his mouth over hers.
They bumped noses, a little awkward at first—rusty—until they found a rhythm that was uniquely theirs.
Her hands left her sides and reached upward, her fingers spearing into his short hair. She loved the way the silver of it glinted in the moonlight. When she drew him toward her, so she could return the teasing swipes of his tongue over her own, he sank lower bit by bit.
A moan escaped Willie as Tom covered her, deepening his kiss. Firm muscles squished her in the most pleasant way possible, flattening her breasts against his chest and the curve of her belly against his abs. The hard length of his cock impressed itself into her mound through the thin cotton they each wore. She shivered.
Lord, how she’d missed being with a man like this.
As if he could read her mind, his hand wandered up her side then flicked open the top button of her nightgown. Then the next…
His fingers slid inside and angled toward her breast, making her whimper even before he’d actually touched her.
“Is everything okay?” A knock came on the door.
Quinn!
Willie flew out from under Tom so fast she crashed onto the floor, leaving him sprawled flat on his face before leveling a wry grin at her. Not at all sorry, that scoundrel!
“Fine!” she shouted, though it emerged more like a squeak, really.
“Are you sure? It sounded as if someone was having nightmares.” Quinn would know what that was like. Damn it. She’d probably woken him up with her distress then confused him with her moans. The last thing she needed was for him to worry. Family came first, for both her and Tom.
Speaking of, he grabbed the quilt and drew it over himself, plopping a pillow in his lap. Then he waved his fingers toward the door. So she made her way across the room and opened it. A younger, more vulnerable version of Roman Daily, whom the kids called Barracuda because he drove one, stood there with his fingers balled in the sides of the sweatpants hanging off his too-damn-skinny hips.
Lying would be unacceptable when he confronted his own demons so bravely, letting them in more and more often to his own fears lately.
“You’re right. I was dreaming about Steven.” She quickly corrected herself. “My husband. The night he died.”
“Do you want a hug, Ms. Brown?” Quinn nearly unraveled all the fine distraction Tom had granted her with that sweet offer, bringing tears rushing to her eyes.
“I would, yes.” More though, she wanted to squeeze him in return for the heartache he’d already suffered at such a young age. “Thank you.”
When they separated, he looked up at Tom. His eyes were full of questions. “Why weren’t you making her feel better?”
Then they narrowed. He took in his surrogate dad, hiding beneath the blankets. His stare flickered to the undone buttons at the top of her gown.
“Wait. Were you two—?”
Tom didn’t deny it. Neither did she.
“Ugh! Gross.” Quinn morphed into the teenager he should have been instead of the survivor he’d been forced to be. Nothing could have made her happier than his mock-disgust right then. “Seriously? As if it isn’t bad enough walking in on the Hot Rods making out all the damn time. Now I’ve got to worry about you two, too?”
“Watch your mouth.” The automatic scold came out before she could even think about it.
“Damn is hardly a curse.” He rolled his eyes. “Have you ever listened to what my brother and the rest of those guys say? Heck, Mustang Sally probably has the dirtiest mouth of anybody.”
“That’s true.” Willie propped her hand on her hip. “I’ll be sure to remind them about their foul language in the morning.”
“Aw, man. Don’t yell at them because of me.” He groaned. “Not again.”
“No one’s in trouble.” Tom laughed from the bed. “How about we make a deal? You’re off the hook if you let us off it, too. Sorry we woke you up, son.”
“Never mind.” He waved off Tom’s apology. “I’m going back to my room. To bed. Try to keep it down, would you? Better yet, I’m putting my headphones in. So if the house is burning down, someone come tell me.”
He might have grumbled, but he couldn’t disguise the hint of a smile turning his somber face into one tinged with mischief. No way would he keep this to himself. Willie mentally prepared herself for the hopeful questions her daughters would pepper her with tomorrow. They’d been nudging her toward Tom for months now.
“Goodnight, Quinn.” Willie kissed him on the forehead, grinning as he walked away.
Then she returned to bed, not bothering with their ridiculous sheet safety zones anymore. Tom grinned as she curled up beside him, resting her cheek on his chest. Together, they laughed about getting busted fooling around and what their kids would think.
Mostly, they enjoyed knowing they’d both given themselves permission to find out where this thing between them might lead. Even if it was at their own pace, slower than one of the snails she’d spotted crossing a leaf in his garden yesterday as they’d swayed in his hammock, enjoying the fine weather and better company.
For the first time in twenty-one years, she forgot about her nightmares, replacing them with the joy of the present.
Maybe there was hope for her yet.
Chapter Two
“Thanks for coming.” Tom opened the door wider and welcomed Rick Andersen, kickass private investigator, into his home.
“I thought we were going to quit meeting like this now that you’ve got your kids straightened out.” The guy grinned as he slapped Tom on the back then headed for the kitchen table as if he lived there. Shit, he’d spent a hell of a lot of time hanging around, digging through details and plotting to protect the Hot Rods family. “The four-way wedding was fantastic, by the way.”
“Thanks, Amber did a great job of planning it.” Tom grinned. “You might need to get that tux ready again not too long from now. I think she and Gavyn are going to make a run of that forever thing for themselves someday. Hopefully soon, though I don’t blame them for not rushing into it, considering everything they’ve got going on with his recovery and setting up Hot Rides.”
He thought of the younger generation surrounding him and how fortunate they’d been in the love department. Sure, they’d had ups and downs, but they’d conquered their issues. He hoped that luck held now that it seemed like his turn.
“That’s good news.” Rick’s smile dimmed a bit. “I was worried there for a while. You know, the morning after the ceremony, when he fell off the wagon. Happy to hear things are turning around for them. And you?”
“Well, I called you out here again, didn’t I?” Tom grimaced.
“Yeah. Is it the senators? I know it’s election time. Tell me they’re not trying some shit with Rebel?”
“Nah, nothing like that, Bryce and Kae are fine.” He shook his head.
“Another kid in trouble?” Rick’s eyes widened. “Where the hell are you going to put this one? Bunk beds in Quinn’s room?”
“That’s not it either.” He crossed his arms then twisted his neck one way then the other, cracking it to release the tension building there.
“I’m a detective, not a mind reader.” The other guy laughed. “Come on, what’s up?”
“I want to look into Willie’s past.” There. He’d said it.
“Whoa.” Rick waved his hands in front of his chest. “Like snooping? I may be kind of sleazy when I need to blend into a bad neighborhood and dig up dirt, but I don’t take on those kinds of cases. You know, like husbands trying to prove their wives are banging the guy’s best friend or petty bullshit like that. If there’s something you gotta know, you’re goin
g to have to man up and ask her about it yourself. Besides, I think she could hurt me if I pissed her off.”
“How long have you known me?” Tom pressed his lips together. He hated to get irritated, but this shit had him on edge in a way solving his family’s problems never had before. “It’s not like that. I’ve already talked to Willie about this situation. There are things she doesn’t know. Couldn’t figure out on her own.”
“So why are you the one talking to me and not her?” The guy sat back in his chair, his eyes slightly squinted as he listened intently. A skill he excelled at. Tom would hate to have Rick as an enemy. The guy was a little more than half his age, street smart, tough, and committed to justice. It was a respectable combination.
“Because she gave up on finding out the truth a long time ago. Or maybe she made her mind up without all the facts and details. She’s not over it, though.” Tom shrugged. “I thought, maybe, if I give her definitive answers, she can finally let it go.”
“We’re talking about her dead husband, right?”
“Yeah,” he confirmed. “This might be pointless. It was a long time ago, far away, and I doubt there’s anything to be found.”
“You leave that part to me.” Rick cut him off before he could convince himself it was pointless to stir up old trouble. “I like Ms. Brown. And I think the two of you have something together even if you’re too fucking stubborn to admit it. If this will help… Tell me more.”
Tom waited until Rick hauled his cell phone out and opened the note-taking app he’d often used when they had these kinds of discussions in the past. When the guy was ready, he continued, “Her husband, Steven, died twenty-one years ago outside of McComb, Mississippi. Car accident. A really bad one.”
