Zero to Sixty

by Marie Harte

  Work went spectacularly well, probably because she focused all her positive energy on her clients. To her relief, she didn’t feel a single urge to give any of them an oiled-up sensual massage. Not even her handsome male clients toward the end of the day.

  She flirted with Sam over the phone, laughing as he described how scared his coworkers were that he’d been smiling all day. His boss had even gone so far as to ask what he was on, because she had a policy against drugs in the garage.

  She missed sleeping with him Friday, as if she always went to bed sleeping in the arms of a giant.

  Saturday morning, after massaging two clients, she took Sam suit shopping.

  Who knew fighting with the big galoot could be so much fun? He hated shopping the way she hated spiders—with all his being. After finding a suit that worked on him and made her want to do him right there in the store, she’d forced him to pay extra to get the tailoring done right. The idiot wanted to wear it straight off the rack, inches too long for his arms and legs but “doable.”

  “Doable my ass,” she’d snapped. Then he’d laughed and put her in charge of it all.

  And he wanted her to go with him to Del’s and Eileen’s weddings.

  “So, about tomorrow,” he said as he drove her home Saturday night. “I have to go out of town. Can you get Cookie? I’ll give you Lou’s address.”

  “Sure.” She didn’t like the way his fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “Where are you going?”

  He pulled in front of her place and turned off the car.

  “Sam?”

  “Louise needs me.”

  Louise, his mother. She noticed he’d referred to her as his mother only briefly on Thursday night, but after that, he called her by name. Distancing himself, perhaps?

  “What for, do you know? I thought she didn’t like you.”

  “She hates me.” He ran a hand through his hair. “But she needs my help. She’s not right up here.” He tapped his forehead. “Too many drugs and drink over the years.”

  Ivy didn’t like it, but Sam had been dealing with his mother long before she’d met him. “Okay. Do you want me to go with you?”

  He let out a breath. “Ivy, I totally don’t deserve you. But, God, I am so glad you’re mine.”

  She reached for his hand. “Come in with me and I’ll make you some tea.”

  “Not that Lipton crap.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Come on.”

  Once inside, his precious oolong made, she sat him down with her on the couch. “What’s really going on with Louise?”

  “Hell if I know.” He sighed. “She calls me when she wants something. I help her out, buy her beers or fix her shitty car. Sometimes I pay her rent if she’s behind. Then she leaves me alone.”

  “But why?”

  “I owe her.”

  “Why?”

  He blinked. “Duh, I’m here, aren’t I?”

  “So because she chose to give birth to you, you owe her? No, you don’t.”

  The bleak look in his eyes pained her. “I do.”

  “Sam, what about your dad? You never mention him.”

  He shut down.

  “Is this something you don’t want to talk about?” she said gently, knowing how parents could leave scars.

  He nodded.

  She took his fist in her hands and just held him. “Then we won’t,” she said simply.

  He blinked. “Yeah?”

  She smiled. “Yeah. You don’t have to tell me everything, you know. I mean, I wish you would share, but I understand sometimes we need to hold on to things for ourselves. Sam, I…” Love you? Not now, when he needed compassion, not the burden of her feelings. “I know what it’s like to have bad parents. Honestly? As much as I can’t stand mine, if they’d apologize and take me back, I’d probably accept them.” She sighed. “I’m a doormat, aren’t I?”

  He frowned. “Hell no. You’re one of the strongest people I know. You got nothing from them. All alone and you never did anything bad. That’s fucked up. Look, I was no angel. I stole. I beat people up. I went to prison.”

  “Seriously, Sam, unless you tell me you were a bully, everything you did was either in self-defense or a simple mistake. Right?”

  He shifted on the couch. “Well, yeah, but I sound more badass if it’s like I started it.”

  She huffed, and he gave her a small smile.

  “Point is, you should have been protected and cared for your whole life. And you weren’t. But I’m not as good as you. No,” he said to forestall her denial. “You don’t know all of it, and I don’t want you to. I’m not so good, but I try. And so I get what Louise needs, and it’s okay.” He paused. “Foley and Eileen get mad at me for helping her. They don’t like the way she treats me. Hell, I don’t like it. But I understand it.”

  She nodded, stroking his fingers. “Okay.”

  “Okay? That’s it?”

  “Yes. I respect that you have your reasons. I know what it’s like to have everyone expecting you to act a certain way or do something that you know isn’t right for you. It’s all right for you to keep some secrets.” She stared into his eyes, loving him so much and wishing she could take all his pain away, dim the shadows lingering. “Not any secrets about other women on the side or kids I don’t know about though.”

  “Uh-uh. I’m faithful, I swear.” He didn’t blink.

  She believed him.

  “And no kids. I’m not having any, ever.”

  “What?”

  He sighed. “Shit. I hadn’t wanted to talk about this now. It’s too soon for us anyway, right?”

  “Explain.”

  “I’m… I don’t talk about my father for a reason. I can’t have kids.”

  “Oh, Sam, I’m so sorry.”

  “I mean, I won’t. I don’t want to lie to you, but I’m never fathering children. Trust me, you don’t want that anyway.”

  Talk about children was sudden, but it mattered. Because Ivy had been painting fantasies of her and Sam forever, and children had definitely been a part of that. It appeared her perfect man wasn’t so perfect after all.

  “You know what? You’re right. This isn’t the time to talk about kids. We just started dating, really.” Yet she felt like she’d known him forever. “This is about you needing to help your mom, no matter what anyone thinks. I don’t like the thought of anyone abusing you, but you’re a grown man. If you need to help her, you need to help her. Just know I’m here for you.”

  “Oh, baby, I do.” He sipped his tea and smiled. “And I’m here for you.”

  He stood and pulled her with him into the bedroom. Slowly stripping her, then himself, he joined her on the bed. “I think about you all the time,” he confessed as he blanketed her. “I jack off to thoughts of you. I get hard when I remember going down on you.” He kissed her, rubbing against her breasts with his broad chest. “I smile when I remember your laugh. When I smell lavender, I think about how gentle you are with me when we touch.”

  He was seducing her with words. Sam kissed her again, then spread her legs with his knee. He settled between them and slowly entered her.

  “Your smile kills me, Ivy. It’s so soft, so full.” He moved inside her, taking her with words and deed and bringing her pleasure so effortlessly. “I love your body, your mind. The way you baby Cookie.”

  He moved faster, and she drew him down for a kiss, wanting more.

  He broke the kiss, taking her hard. “You’re so fine. So sexy,” he rasped and palmed a breast. His thrusts shook the bed.

  “And sometimes, when I forget to think about it,” he said in a whisper, “I imagine you with my baby. If there was anyone who could give me that peace, it’s you.” He shoved once more and she came around him, taking him with her as they crested fulfillment.

  When she came down off her high, she str
oked his hair and cheeks while he kissed her with slow, lingering caresses.

  “Sam.” God, I love you.

  “Yeah, Ivy, I’m fucked up, but I feel it. I’m upside-down over you. You poor, poor girl.”

  She smiled. “A baby, huh?”

  He grimaced. “I said I’m fucked up. That’s one weird fantasy to have when you don’t want kids, but I can’t help it. You’re sexy any way I imagine you.”

  She wouldn’t argue with him now. Especially not in bed, and not when she wasn’t ready for children anyway. But they’d have to come back to this at some point.

  Sam left hours later, with a promise to call when he returned home. She hadn’t asked where his mother lived, and he hadn’t offered. It was enough he’d trusted her to tell her he was going.

  So much about Sam made sense to her—their shared parental dysfunction, their need for connection, the way they both took care of people and pets who needed it.

  The bed felt too big without him in it, and Ivy felt lonely in a way she hadn’t in a while.

  Sunday afternoon, she followed the directions to Lou’s house, eager to get Cookie.

  He lived in a mid-sized white house in Rainier Valley. She pulled up to find a dozen or more cars lining the street. Noise sounded from his house, like a party was underway.

  She knocked but no one answered. So she tried again. The door eventually opened, and a striking, dark-haired woman stared at her.

  “Hello. I’m here to see Lou.”

  The young woman, only a few years younger than Ivy, she’d bet, gave her a dismissive once-over. “Wait here.” She yelled something in Spanish, to which several other women answered back with laughs, and walked away, leaving the door open. Festive music filled the house, an air of joy making it difficult not to smile.

  Then Ivy heard barking. “Cookie?”

  The puppy raced down the hallway when he spotted her, chased by a young girl. Cookie leaped at her, dancing at her feet and wagging his tail like crazy.

  She laughed, so happy to see him again. She lifted the ball of energy in her arms and smiled through the licking.

  “Hi, Ivy.” Lou had joined the girl. “Thanks for letting us borrow him. Rosie’s ready for a dog, she thinks.”

  “Thanks for watching him, Rosie.”

  The little girl looked forlorn. “Does he have to go?”

  “I missed him. But maybe if it’s okay with your…” Brother? Father? Uncle?

  “Brother,” Lou supplied with a half grin.

  “Brother, then you can watch him again some other time.”

  Rosie perked up. “Okay. Thanks.” She petted Cookie once more. “Bye, Cookie.” Then she turned and skipped down the hallway back to the party.

  “Well, thanks again.” Ivy turned to leave.

  “Wait. Want to come in? My family’s here for the Sunday meal.” He winced as something crashed and someone else chided in Spanish. “It’s a little loud.”

  She smiled. “I have chores at home and a puppy to train, but thanks.”

  “And a man to get back to, eh?” Lou leaned against the doorframe.

  He was sexy, enigmatic, and dangerous. Unlike Sam, who seemed open despite the few secrets he kept, Lou had a darkness to him, a depth that felt out of her league. “A man?” she asked. “Well, yes. But he’s going out of town tonight. So technically, I’ll be seeing him tomorrow.” Or in a few days. He hadn’t said when he’d be back.

  Lou sighed. “Shit. He’s gone to see Louise, eh?”

  She blinked, not wanting to pry, but… “What do you know about her?”

  “Only what I’ve heard. She’s a bitch. Treats Sam like shit, but he still helps her out. He’s a good guy, being there for his mother.” With as many women that seemed to be in Lou’s house, and no doubt in his life, she could imagine family loyalty meant something to him. “But he’s always a basket case when he deals with her. He’s usually quiet or gruff at work, but after dealing with Louise, he’s scary quiet.” Lou narrowed his gaze at her. “Then again, he’s been smiling and laughing a lot lately. So maybe he’ll be better when he gets back. Just watch out for his mood. She gets to him like nothing else does.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Nothing except for you.” Lou smiled, and the expression lightened the impression of intensity, if only for a moment. “You’re good for Sam, Ivy. He’s really into you. I’ve known the guy for four years, and he’s never been like this about anyone but you.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Yeah, don’t mention it. I mean it. Don’t mention it.”

  She laughed and left with a wave, feeling better in spite of her worry for Sam. She could only hope he’d survive Louise intact and that, when he returned home, he wouldn’t shut her out.

  * * *

  Lou watched Sam’s chick leave. Man. What a hot piece, that one. A genuine lady, sweet, and just what his buddy needed in his life. Softness.

  He returned to the kitchen and to his million female relatives—could someone have a freakin’ boy the next time one of his sisters or aunts got pregnant?—and tracked down Stella. She had a mutinous look on her face.

  He sighed and motioned her over. She came, reluctantly, and he yanked her over his shoulder and walked her outside to the backyard, where his lone male cousin flipped spareribs over the grill. “Hey, J, get lost for a minute.”

  The kid nodded and left, calling for something to fill his growing body. One of his aunts would feed him.

  He set Stella on her feet and knocked her hands away when she tried slapping him, swearing at him in Spanish.

  He spoke in a language she’d understand—one from big brother to little sister. “Look, honey, I told you Sam’s not for you. He’s in love with that woman.”

  Stella sneered. “She’s nothing. A ghost and a skank and a whore.”

  He raised a brow. “Really? A whore? Where did you get that?”

  She shrugged. “That’s the only way a bitch like her could keep a man like Sam.”

  Lou sighed and switched to English. “Chica, we talked about this. Sam let you down because he knows you’re too young for him. And too good.” And because Lou would rearrange Sam’s body parts and bury him in concrete if the guy so much as touched his sisters. No one was good enough for the Cortez women in Lou’s opinion. And watching over them was a full-time job. “Sam loves her.”

  Stella blinked. “He does not. See?” She pulled out her phone and showed Lou her texts.

  That bastard hadn’t said anything about Stella, but Lou had had a feeling. All he read were a bunch of messages from a guy who had trouble communicating to a young girl with a crush, and every message ended with Sam telling her in a roundabout way that he wasn’t the guy for her.

  Hell, now Lou couldn’t in good conscience give the guy a broken nose. “Stella, he’s not into you, baby. He loves Ivy.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I’ve seen that man growl and snap at people, including his friends, for years. But now he has stars in his eyes. He’s in love, and he’s smiling all the time. It’s freaky as hell, let me tell you. He’s a good man, but he’s taken. You need a man who has stars in his eyes when he thinks of you. And with Sam, that woman is Ivy.”

  Stella watched him, then sighed. “He really smiles?”

  “Yep. And he and she have a dog together.” Which for Sam, according to Foley, was major commitment right there. “He’s happy, baby. If you really like the guy, you want him to be happy, yes?”

  She nodded. “I really liked him. He was nice. He talked to me, and he didn’t stare at my chest all the time either.”

  “Good, because then I’d have to kill him.”

  Stella rolled her eyes. “Really, Lou, ease up.”

  “Look, he’s off-limits. Go find a guy I like, for once, huh?” He saw another of his sisters leaving the house. “Be th
e good girl Lucia isn’t.”

  Lucia stopped in her tracks. “What did you say?”

  Stella snickered. “Oh, sí. That’s true. She is a slut.”

  Lou groaned. “I didn’t say that.”

  “You bitch. You’re just mad because Sam liked me first.” Lucia advanced and started trash-talking her younger sister with a wink thrown Lou’s way.

  Lou nodded. They’d both known about Stella’s crush, and they’d both known it would go nowhere. Although Lou hadn’t realized Lucia had also made an impression on his friend, unless Lucia was talking shit.

  Either way, he had an excuse to pull Sam aside and see what the hell was going down with the guy. Anything to keep Lou’s mind on work and away from that aggravating woman at the flower shop.

  He scowled as he entered the house and went straight for a beer. He glanced at the microwave, seeing his reflection, and swore.

  What the hell kind of woman can walk away from all this?

  Chapter 18

  By Wednesday, Ivy had had enough. Sam had put her off with a few texts and even a phone call. But he hadn’t stopped by to visit. She didn’t want to hunt him down at the garage, but she needed to talk to him.

  And one person who came to mind to help her happened to be dog-sitting Cookie while she worked.

  The day came to a close, and Ivy drove to Willie’s house. She parked her car, which now ran like a dream, and walked around the house to the back door, which Willie preferred.

  Before she could knock, dogs barked, signaling her approach.

  But after a few minutes, still no one answered. She knocked again. “Willie?”

  She heard a shout and a long, male moan from an open window upstairs.

  Oh, please, God, not today. I can’t handle the swing again.

  “Be right down,” Willie shouted from somewhere in the house.

  Ivy prayed the woman and her companion at least had their clothes on when they answered the door.

  It finally opened, and a man, not Rupert, stared at her. “Hel-lo, gorgeous.”

  “Um, hi. I’m Ivy. I’m here to get Cookie?”