by Marie Harte
“You hang out there,” Sam said.
“Yeah, but I ain’t nice.”
“She’s not,” an unwelcome voice added. Crap. McCauley was here.
“Yo, Mike,” Lou called out.
“Hey, McCauley. You bring Colin?” Johnny asked.
Sam didn’t have to ask if the big man had brought Jekyll, his goliath of a puppy, because the huge canine whined and danced by McCauley’s big feet. Had to be on a leash, because otherwise Jekyll would have launched himself at Sam. The dog loved him, and Sam wasn’t so hard-hearted he couldn’t admit he looked forward to Jekyll’s visits.
“Um, it’s Monday, Johnny. Legally, I have to sit the kid in school.”
“Oh, right. Forgive me for forgetting the laws and functions of the mortal world. Here in hell, with our demon mistress, reality fogs over.”
“Johnny,” Del growled.
“Nice one.” Foley chuckled. “Truth hurts, Del. Ow, not the pitchfork.”
Sam studied the underside of the Altima and snorted. Johnny truly was a pain in the ass, but a funny guy nonetheless.
“Del, leave ’em alone,” McCauley said. Maybe he wasn’t such a dick after all. “Just for a minute, though. Sounds like Sam needs help.” Nah, the guy was a huge dick—both a jackass and a giant. He could have fit in at the shop, muscled and mean. But McCauley was also a family man. He worked construction and had a nice kid. And he loved the hell out of Del. For all that Sam got hives being near the Mr. Mom, he kind of liked that Del had found someone to treat her right. Because if the guy didn’t, she’d kick his ass.
“I need help?” Sam had to say. “I’m not the one getting married in another—what is it, Foley? Four weeks?”
“Yep,” Foley answered, way too smug. “Gosh, Mike. That’s only twenty-eight days away, not counting today. So soon. Are you ready, big guy?”
“Not getting cold feet, are you?” Lou asked, sounding amused.
“Shut up, guys.” Del sounded nervous.
Uh-oh. In trying to worry him, they’d worried her.
Sam actually felt bad for Del. “You know, if he doesn’t marry you, we can always hunt him down and beat him to death.” The glare he shot McCauley told him Sam wasn’t kidding.
But instead of doing the smart thing and looking scared, McCauley rolled his eyes. “It’s not me you idiots have to worry about. It’s her.” Then he scooped up a hyperventilating Del and laughingly fireman’s carried her toward her office. “Nope. Not letting you go, baby, so get used to being at my beck and call forever.”
“The hell you say,” she yelled, sounding much more like herself.
“I really like that guy.” Johnny beamed, then called out, “Del, that’s twenty-five cents for the swear jar.” The Rattle of Oppression, as Johnny and the crew had taken to calling it.
They didn’t hear her response because McCauley had slammed the door.
Nobody wanted to know what the pair got up to after it locked.
But they’d forgotten to take Jekyll with them, and he now stood quivering, his leash caught on a heavy floor jack.
“Sam, you’re up.” Lou nodded to the dog and started whistling in time with the Doobie Brothers.
Sam wiped his hands off on his coveralls and gratefully left the shitty catalytic converter to pet Jekyll. The dog was in heaven while Sam rubbed his belly and ears, crooning what a good dog he was and trying not to laugh as he avoided the many licks and nibbles from the loving pup.
Sometime later, the office door opened, and a smug-looking McCauley and a rumpled-but-smiling Del walked out.
Sam stood and held the leash out to the guy. The dog clearly loved him, so McCauley couldn’t be too bad, all said and done. “Seriously? That was, what? Like three minutes?”
“Best three minutes of my life.” McCauley ruffled the dog’s fur. “Come on, buddy. Let’s get to work. Later, guys. Remember, you have to wear suits to the wedding.” He gave Sam a thorough once-over. “You too, Hamilton.” He ignored the jeers and fingers shot his way, kissed Del once more, then left with Jekyll.
Sam looked at her and shook his head. He stood in front of her to block the others and pointed to her shirt.
“Ah, thanks.” She hastily rebuttoned the thing and blushed. “And it was closer to four minutes, really. Maybe even five,” she said cheerily. “Now get back to work. He wasn’t kidding about that suit, Sam. I can’t wait to see you all sparkly and dressed up.” She patted his arm. “I know you want me to be happy on my big day.”
He groaned. “Emotional blackmail.”
“You bet your ass. And yeah, I know, that’s another quarter. But it was worth it.” She turned and hummed on her way back into the office.
Sam sighed. Great. Now he was going to have to buy a suit. Renting one just didn’t sit well. He’d lived too long wearing hand-me-downs. He had the money. Not like he spent what he earned on more than beer and car parts—or Louise. But still…he’d take tools over clothes any day.
He turned and went back to work, wondering when—if—Ivy would ever call him and half hoping she wouldn’t, if only so he could stop his heart from racing every time his phone rang.
Chapter 4
Ivy finished up with one of her favorite regulars and waited for Mimi to leave. Shelby’s mom refused to get work done from her daughter. Instead, she’d made it her life’s mission to not only help Shelby increase her business, but to also guide clients to Ivy, because Ivy had “terrific energy.” Mimi Vanzant was one of those woo-woo types who believed in destiny, used tarot cards and crystals to view the future, and had one of the most infectious spirits Ivy had ever met.
Big and bold, with short, dark-red hair, a brightly colored dress, and bangles that announced her coming far ahead of her actual arrival, Mimi never failed to make Ivy’s day a better one. She also tipped well, and Ivy needed that extra income now more than ever.
Her car had been acting funny that morning. She had a bad feeling the clutch problems she’d suffered last week had returned.
“Well, dear, that was wonderful, as usual.” Mimi smiled and gave Ivy air kisses on either cheek. “I’ll see you in two weeks. I feel fabulous.” Mimi sighed, then looked into Ivy’s eyes. “I see good things coming your way. Ron and I have been concerned about you.” Ron was Mimi’s business partner and best friend. He too subscribed to otherworldly spirits for guidance, but she thought some of that had to do with his Native American roots. She didn’t mind Ron. She just liked to look at him. An older man with incredible bone structure. Talk about eye candy.
“No need to be concerned about me, Mimi. I’m fine.” Better than fine, actually. Her landlord had finally gotten back to her about the dog. For an extra deposit, she could have a pet. Since she always paid on time, gave her landlord little hassle, and gifted him treats at Christmas, he liked her. He hadn’t given her any trouble about the dog at all. Not that she’d thought he would, but she hated to ever assume.
With the exception of the worrying noises her car had been making, Ivy felt great.
“Yes, you will be.” Mimi smiled, then sighed. “I feel too good to work, but someone has to save my new house from Ian’s terrible style choices.”
Ivy grinned and took the money Mimi handed her. “Yes, well, I see good things in your future too. Like a happy husband smiling at the big screen TV you’re surprising him with. He’ll love it.”
“I know.” Mimi sounded smug. She laughed and left, and Ivy prayed the rest of her day went as smoothly.
As she cleaned up her massage room and put new sheets on the table, she wondered again how Cookie was doing. She tried to avoid that train of thought though, because inevitably that led her to thinking about Sam.
She’d dodged it for days, unable to do anything about the puppy until her landlord called back. But he had this morning. And now she’d have to face Sam again.
She dreamed
about him. Embarrassing and stupid, because no way would a man who looked and acted like he did be so soft or gentle. Not unless she turned into a stray animal. Then she wouldn’t mind being petted by him.
“Ack. Stop it!”
“Um, you okay, Ivy?” Denise, another of their therapists, stuck her head in the door.
“Sorry.” Ivy blushed. “Talking to myself.”
“Man problems, eh?”
Ivy laughed. “Puppy problems. But yeah, a man is attached. Kind of.” She hadn’t called or texted Sam in days. He probably thought she didn’t want Cookie anymore. She should have texted to keep in touch, but she wanted distance to figure out her feelings.
Physically, she liked the look of him. She didn’t mind his tattoos. Actually, they kind of made him more appealing. All that muscle and toughness. Heck, the ink went up his neck. His face could only be considered handsome. The scruff of beard and mustache only made him more intriguing. And those eyes. That bright blue gray just hit her, made it hard to breathe when she remembered him smiling at Cookie.
But then she’d recall the hardness there, that violent burst of power when he’d hit Goodie at the bar. How easy it had been to harm someone else.
Then he’d turned it off, escorted her to her car. Never touched her, never tried to kiss her.
Yet that kiss to his cheek had been impossible to forget.
Hell. The contradictions in the man gave her a headache.
Ivy chatted with Denise while they readied for their next clients. Then Ivy did her best to push all her concerns aside, her focus only to facilitate healing in her patients. Three hours later, she readied to leave early. But the worries she’d earlier pushed aside returned. Her clutch was still sliding, not quite catching, and she feared it breaking down if she drove it.
The car had a hundred thousand miles on it, and she’d bought it used, but it had been a terrific little thing for years. She couldn’t afford for it to go bad now, not when she had a puppy to adopt and rent to pay. Her small savings would help if need be, she supposed. But the thought of those savings brought back all the bitterness and anger from Max’s betrayal. She should have had a flush bank account. But she’d used her income, footing nearly all their expenses while he went through school. Supporting him so that, in turn, when he graduated, he could support her.
Instead, he’d saved up all the money from his meager job as a waiter to repay his student loans as well as his personal bills. He’d barely contributed to the food bill, but at the time, she’d been okay with what he could give. She’d wanted to help him. They’d had so many terrific plans for the life they’d build after he graduated. Then, when they should have been starting a new life, he’d left her behind for law school and some bimbo.
Untrustworthy men. She kicked the floor of her car. It had to be male; she just knew it.
After a moment more of letting herself wallow in self-pity, Ivy shrugged all that negativity away and focused on the good parts of her life. Surprisingly, Sam’s bright eyes came to mind.
“I just can’t shake you, can I?” She sighed. Then, because only an unintelligent person didn’t know when to take advantage of a man with know-how about cars, she called him.
He picked up right away. “Yeah?”
She swallowed. “Um, Sam? This is Ivy Stephens.”
No response.
“I’m the woman who found Cookie? We went to Ray’s together Friday night?” How many women did he regularly see that he’d forgotten about her already? It had only been a few days.
“I remember you.” That deep voice sent more shivers through her. Talk about dangerously sexy.
“Yes, well. My landlord finally called me back. He was out of town or would have responded sooner. He’s actually a nice older man. I watched his grandkids once.” Stop babbling, Ivy. “He had no problem with me having a dog.”
“Uh-huh.”
She frowned. “You do still have Cookie, don’t you? You didn’t give him away?”
“No. He’s with Willie.”
His friend who helped foster animals. She sagged with relief. “Oh, good. When can I get him?”
“I’m heading over to pick him up in another hour. She lives near Bodyworks, actually.”
“Okay.” And that brought her to another point. “I have one more thing to ask.”
“Yeah?” He sounded hesitant.
“Well, I hate to bother you, but you’re the expert when it comes to cars. My clutch isn’t working right. I was hoping you could tell me if it’s something serious or not. I’m afraid it’s a big fix.”
“Oh, sure.” He sounded cheerful—for Sam. “I’m wrapping up, but I can drop by and take a look at it for you.”
“If it’s no trouble. I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage or anything. But if you could just tell me—”
“See you in a few.” He disconnected.
She stared at her phone and felt a slow smile work over her lips. Cookie and Sam. Now if her car would work all right again, she’d be happy as a clam in a cupcake.
Her stomach rumbled. Man, she had to stop thinking about sweets! She’d gained another pound this weekend making chocolate chip cookies that didn’t measure up to Lara’s.
Ivy went back inside and caught up on some client paperwork. She straightened up her office that was already straightened up. Then she manned the front desk for a while with nothing better to do.
Forty-five minutes after her call with Sam, he walked through the front door. He made the small studio look downright tiny.
“Nice place.” He nodded, taking in the exercise balls stacked along one wall, the bands and small hand weights in another section. Sunlight filtering in through the big bay window highlighted the bright-white trim and made the bamboo floors and sesame-gold walls glow. When they had small yoga and exercise classes, they shut the front shade. But right now, the office shone with professionalism and healthy energy.
Maybe Mimi is rubbing off on me. I’m all about energy all of a sudden.
She smiled at him and stood, coming around the small desk to greet him. She held out a hand. “Thanks for coming.”
He slowly took her hand in his and squeezed. But the handshake felt anything but polite. A seductive warmth stole through her body, and the maintained eye contact made it difficult to breathe. To her surprise, her nipples beaded under her shirt. She hoped he hadn’t noticed.
Sam seemed to keep his gaze on hers. He let her hand go and nodded. “Want to show me the car?”
All business. No problem. She could handle that. Putting a lid on her untimely libido, she shrugged on her jacket and gathered her purse, then walked him out back and past the patio.
“The clutch sticks.”
“So you said.” He held a hand out for the keys, and she handed them over.
He swore a bit when trying to get into the car. After pushing the seat back as far as it would go, he started the car and listened. “I’m going to take it for a little drive. Don’t worry. I’ll bring it back,” he said drily.
“Don’t be a jerk. I know that.” Not the thing to say to someone doing you a favor, Ivy.
But Sam only gave her that amused expression she’d come to know. He drove away, and she saw it lurch once or twice. When he returned, she prayed he’d somehow fixed it. Through osmosis or something. Anything so she wouldn’t have to pay through the nose.
He turned off the car and got out, then came to stand next to her, still staring at the car. He wore jeans, black boots, and a beat-up leather jacket over a heather-gray pullover. Nothing fancy, but on Sam, the impact was staggering. He looked impossibly large, intimidating, and downright kissable.
What the heck is wrong with me?
Ever since Max, she’d had a difficult time viewing men as desirable. Mostly she saw them as needy and clingy. Users and manipulators to be avoided. Unfortunately, the tw
o men she’d briefly dated right after her breakup had been just like him.
But Sam didn’t seem like anyone she’d ever met. She couldn’t pigeonhole him. He confounded, intrigued, and alarmed her all in the same breath.
“Did you hear what I said?” He was frowning at her. “Ivy, you okay?”
“Yeah, fine. Say that again, please.”
He talked slowly, probably figuring she was dimwitted, a stereotypical blond. “I can’t be sure without looking into it, but you might need a clutch replacement. I’d take a look at the flywheel too.”
She swallowed. “Will this be expensive?”
He shrugged. “Mostly in labor. I’d have to look at the car, specifically, but I’d bet parts won’t run you more than two hundred, at most.”
“Great.” She clenched her fist around her purse strap. She’d have to dig into her savings. “So if you were to guess, how much would parts and labor cost all together?”
He scratched his head. “Ah, less than a thousand?”
“Not helping.”
He patted her gently on her shoulder. “Sorry.”
She forced a smile. “Not your problem. I appreciate you looking at it for me. I should be good to drive it home tonight, though, right? Maybe a few days more?”
“Nothing too far,” he cautioned. “But, well, do you have a shop you take your car to? I wouldn’t recommend waiting. You don’t want to break down in the middle of I-5 or anything.”
She sighed again. Crap. Two hundred she could handle, mostly. But a thousand? “I don’t have a shop I go to regularly. I usually hit Jiffy Lube for my oil changes.”
“Well, if you wanted, I could fix it for you. I won’t rob you blind. I’ll keep costs down as much as I can, just charge you for parts. That should help.”
“I couldn’t do that. You have to make a living too.” But her mind was firing on all cylinders, even if her car wasn’t. “Hey. We could barter for the labor. I can work on you, help fix all that tension I can see in your shoulders. But you have to let me know exactly how much I owe you. We’ll do a bunch of sessions to even it all out. Would that work?”
