Mustang Summer

by Marie Johnston

  “Talk,” Aaron demanded.

  “About what?”

  Cash snorted. “Only you would be all ‘whaddya mean’ when the insanely hot sister of the man who burned down our property talks to you. You two know each other?”

  Brock shoved his hands in his pockets. “A couple of weeks ago, I came home and someone ran out of the barn. I chased her down, but she told Max she was just out for a walk. I couldn’t prove it and nothing was missing or damaged.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us?” Travis’s voice shook like he was trying not to yell. “She’s Jesse’s sister.”

  “I didn’t know. Her last name is Alvarez. Then I went to go interview for a Mustang yesterday and she was there, too.”

  They all eyed the rest room door suspiciously.

  Cash spoke first. “The sister of the guy who torched Dillon’s shop suddenly takes an interest in Brock.”

  “Not me.” Brock pushed past them when she breezed out of the ladies room. “It’s the cars.”

  He tracked Josie across the expanse of the hallway. Her heeled shoes gave her hips the most enticing sway. She glanced over her shoulder and narrowed her eyes on him, then her gaze flitted from cousin to cousin. Planting herself on a corner bench, she hugged her purse, or bag, or whatever it was called, to herself.

  “Did Mr. Blackwood sell you the ’68?” Brock came to a stop in front of her.

  She clutched her tote bag. “He hasn’t decided yet.”

  “What are you going to do with it?”

  “Are you going to report back to him that I’m going to be a naughty girl and not take care of his precious car?”

  “No.”

  She paused like she was waiting for him to say more, then looked over his shoulder. “Can I help you boys?”

  Shit. His cousins were interfering. Brock didn’t turn around when Cash spoke. “We want to know what you were doing in Brock’s shop.”

  Josie remained sitting, but crossed her arms defensively against the four of them. “Sorry to disappoint, but I’ve already been cleared.”

  “Brock doesn’t lie,” Cash pressed.

  Her cool brown gaze landed back on Brock. “Not even a tiny fib?”

  “He was born without that gene.” Aaron said it sarcastically but Brock stiffened at the reminder that Aaron wasn’t wrong. “If he said you were in his barn, then you were.”

  Josie loosened her grip from her bag and rose. Brock didn’t back up and it brought her close to him. He had to look down at least eight inches, even with her in heels.

  “I don’t appreciate feeling like I’m being attacked at my brother’s trial. Have a little sympathy.”

  Once she made the request, it clicked for Brock, as it often did when he was prodded, or remembered his mom’s advice. Her eyes were filled with worry and not because she was faced with four men who stood a head taller than her. It’d be like if any of his cousins were on trial.

  And she was the only one here for Jesse. Brock didn’t like the man, despised what he’d done to their place, and how he added stress and remorse for Gram. But none of it was Josie’s fault. She might’ve been in his stuff, but she’d just said she was more interested in the cars.

  “Where’s your family?” he asked.

  Her eyes shimmered. “Our mom passed last year and Bill—my dad—couldn’t take off work to come here.”

  “What does he do?” The rest of the world faded and it was him and Josie. His cousins didn’t move away, but didn’t break in.

  “He’s a mechanic.”

  “That’s why you like cars. Did you help him at all?”

  She hastily wiped her eyes. “When I was younger. Now he has employees and thinks my place is somewhere else besides under a hood.”

  “Why?”

  She peered up at him, but didn’t answer. “You really surprise me sometimes.”

  “Why?”

  A chuckle escaped and he was grateful her tears were gone. “Because you interrogate me about a single subject then throw me for a loop by treating me like a real person.”

  “You are.” He sensed he was getting into territory where he’d soon not understand what she was talking about. “I’d quit asking the questions if you answered. Truthfully.”

  “And if I said I was lying and I was in your barn, would I end up in Jesse’s place?”

  “Would you have destroyed my collection?”

  Her mouth dropped open and her brows cinched—clearly horror. “Absolutely not. It’d be like burning history. Okay, say I was admiring your cars. Would you have a problem with that?”

  “No. I’d say call first next time.”

  “I don’t have your number.”

  “Tell me yours and I’ll text you so you have it.”

  Everything went quiet around them and she studied him a moment before she rattled it off.

  He committed it to memory. Numbers came naturally to him. They weren’t burdened with emotions and subtleties like words. In school, his teachers marveled over how well he handled math but then tanked his reading comprehension tests. All of which he thought were pointless because he understood what he read just fine.

  “I was surprised,” she went on, “that you didn’t have more. You had only two in your barn.”

  “The rest are in the long garage.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “That’s where I do the detailing and work that needs a finer touch.”

  “How many do you have in there?”

  Brock was about to answer, but Cash broke in. “Why are you asking?”

  Josie glared at him, a reaction toward Cash that Brock wasn’t used to seeing. Unless it was after his womanizing cousin bedded them and took off. But Brock was sure Josie hadn’t met Cash yet. If he had to identify what he was feeling, he’d call it relief.

  “My brother messed up and I must be just as dirty? Is that it?”

  “I don’t know, is it?”

  “Enough,” Brock barked without looking back. He was finally talking with her, getting a sense of who Josie Alvarez was, the girl who kept his mind spinning.

  Travis tugged Cash’s arm. “Come on, guys. They’re reconvening.”

  “Already?” Josie’s ragged whisper and panicked look made Brock want to coax her back down on the bench and sit with her while the mess in the courtroom played out.

  “I doubt they needed a long deliberation.” Brock’s tone was even, but the hurt look Josie gave him had him running through what he said.

  It’s not always the words, Brock, but the way you say them. And vice versa.

  She stepped around him and sashayed back to her seat. He trailed her, but sat as close to her as he could while staying on his side of the room.

  The guilty verdict was rattled off and Josie dropped her head. The judge announced sentencing on a different day and dismissed them all.

  Murmurs filled the space, but he only had eyes for Josie. Tears rolled down her face as she watched her brother get led out. Elle rubbed Dillon’s back. None of them were happy per se, but they were relieved they didn’t have to worry about Jesse coming after them again.

  Although, Jesse’s righteous anger had diminished since the arrest. Could be because he was surrounded by cops and lawyers and his immediate future would likely be behind bars. The years had seemed to pile onto his youthful features and though Brock knew Jesse was a couple of years older than him, the hunch in his shoulders and withdrawn expression made him look more than ten years older.

  Brock shook himself out of his reverie and before he could second-guess his own actions, he was following Josie out of the room. He had to use every extra inch of his stride to catch up with her rapid clicks on the marble floor.

  “Josie.”

  She was at the stairs and if she went any faster, she’d careen out of control.

  “Josie!” He raced after her and finally caught her as she stepped out into the muggy air.

  She whipped around. “God, Brock. What?” She sniffled and wiped her cheeks, but mor
e tears poured.

  “Are you coming back for his sentencing?”

  “Probably. Another joyous day for me, right?”

  “No. I’m sure it sucks.”

  She barked a laugh. “That it does. Jesse’s…not that guy. I never thought my brother would do anything like that.” The slight breeze that staved off the worst of the humidity ruffled her hair and it clung to her wet cheeks. “Listen, I gotta get out of here.”

  “Are you going back to Waite Park?”

  “Not tonight. I’d like to try to see Jesse before I leave town.”

  “Come by before you go. I’ll show you the ’Stangs in the garage.”

  “No offense, but your family just put my only sibling in prison for who knows how long. I’m not up to socializing with you.”

  He clenched his teeth together. No matter the tone, her words were clear.

  She spun and headed to where her red Mustang was parked on the street.

  Brock waited until she drove off before he turned back to the courthouse. Everyone stood at the top of the stairs, waiting.

  Cash strode down toward him. “There’s plenty of women in Moore who’d get with you. Going after Jesse Rodriguez’s sister is a bad fucking idea.”

  The others followed Cash.

  “It’s not like that.” Brock wanted to make her feel better. Her tears had bothered him.

  A sandy blond brow arched. “Since she showed up, you’ve been plastered to her fine ass. Pick another woman, Brock. That one spells trouble.”

  He didn’t want another woman.

  Oh shit. It wasn’t that he wasn’t interested in women right now, but he wasn’t interested in any other woman period. Maybe Cash was right and he was wanting to hang around Josie for more than car chats.

  Aaron laughed. “Brock’s luck with the ladies sucks balls, and not his.”

  True, but women liked the idea of him. They just never took the time to get to know him, assumed he was another charming Walker. Admittedly, it was hard for them when he couldn’t share as much as they wanted him to. At some point, they announced he was an insensitive bastard who loved his cars more than them.

  And they weren’t wrong.

  Chapter Five

  When Josie woke the next day, her eyes felt like she’d used sandpaper instead of Kleenex.

  Crying herself to sleep—not a feeling she missed. After the trial, she’d hidden in her plain motel room and wished she could gorge on her mom’s homemade brownies—with extra fudge.

  Then thoughts of her mother and how heartbroken she’d be caused another cascade of tears.

  Jesse was going to jail. Josie doubted a town as close-knit as Moore would take it easy on a city boy with a grudge. The Walkers were too highly regarded.

  Josie sighed wistfully. She could see why. Aside from their good looks, they oozed small-town wholesomeness.

  The way Brock had tried to make her feel better…

  Geez, she’d was fast becoming a Walker groupie.

  No, not all Walkers. Just Brock.

  They had all stood together, just the five of them. They probably kept the rest of the family out of the loop to protect them. She doubted their parents hadn’t been there because they’d been too busy and the trial was too inconvenient.

  She and her mother had always championed Jesse. Bill just slammed him about how he had no legacy because it had died with his birth dad.

  She fisted her hands over her eyes. Poor Jesse. No wonder the stories of his great uncle’s land and how it should’ve been his had burrowed into Jesse’s mind and festered.

  With resignation, she checked the time. Time to go and see if she could visit him.

  Her phone pinged. She wasn’t ready to face the world, but she checked the message. Her heart stuttered as she did.

  It was from Brock. All it said was “This is my number.”

  Well, good morning to you, too, farm boy.

  Her day just brightened, if only a little. She rolled out of bed. In the bathroom that only took two steps to cross into, she had to shake her head at the No Cleaning Fowl in the Shower sign.

  “We just keep it up year ’round,” the clerk had explained. “Some hunters think it’s no big deal to strip their kills in the shower even when we provide an outdoor station at the end of the building. Duck feathers clogging the drain has flooded many a room.”

  Dead birds in the shower—was that the worst thing the shower had seen?

  Josie arrived at the jail on time and they brought her into the little room where she could speak to her brother.

  After a few minutes he was led in by a petite deputy. The deputy passed on a few instructions and left. Jesse plopped down in the chair across from her. His face hung like a pound puppy and Josie wished she could give him a big hug. Lord knew, she could use one.

  “How are things?” he asked.

  “Shitty. You?”

  “Yeah.”

  She refused to cry again, but when she thought that her best friend sat across from her in cuffs, she almost failed.

  “Don’t worry about me, Jo. I’ll be fine.”

  “Why’d you stick to the not-guilty plea? I thought they were going to cut you a deal.”

  He rolled a heavy shoulder, his eyes dark with hostility. “Because that land should’ve been mine.”

  Josie steeled herself against her brother’s stubborn nature. At least he was only hurting himself this time—and her—instead of destroying someone’s property.

  Jesse must’ve read her remorseful expression. “I don’t think it would’ve mattered.”

  No, neither did she, but she appreciated his attempt to make her feel better. Nothing could make this situation better, unless her brother admitted how wrong he’d been.

  “Look,” his voice thickened, “take care of yourself while I’m gone. Keep out of Bill’s mess.”

  “I always do.”

  Jesse shook his head. His hair had grown so shaggy, it curled around his collar and gave her brother a roguish look that fit his orange jumpsuit. “No, he’s gotten worse since Mom died.”

  More controlling, too, but she couldn’t burden Jesse with that. “Bill looks out for me at least. Doesn’t let me do the books for…” She glanced at the cameras in the room.

  “Bill’s out for Bill.”

  “He took care of you.” It was a sad attempt at easing Jesse’s mind, but she didn’t want him worrying.

  “He did what he had to and no more because I wasn’t his. Bill’s a coward and I don’t want to see you crash with his car because he doesn’t know when to stop.”

  Wasn’t that rich, coming from her brother in jail’s finest threads. Anyway, she’d be smarter than that…wouldn’t she? She’d been a daddy’s girl, a damn parrot until boys had started noticing her in high school. Then Bill had closeted her away as much as possible and she’d taken the betrayal hard.

  Josie didn’t dare mention how dire the financials were getting with the garage. Jesse had enough to stress about and too much time on his hands. Once again, she was torn with fury at him for what he did and a chasm’s worth of regret.

  What if Brock had caught her drooling over his collection? She’d snuck around his land when Jesse first mentioned coming to Moore to check out his family legacy.

  This guy, Jo. His collection is unreal and he restores them all by himself.

  Her gut told her that as long as she hadn’t damaged one of Brock’s classics, he would’ve given her a tour and geeked out with her. But then she might’ve been in trouble right along with Jesse.

  Josie needed a change of subject. Bill wasn’t going to change and sitting here talking about him wouldn’t help.

  “Bill’s got a bead on a ’68 Shelby.” Why’d she bring the car up? She couldn’t go into the details of how Bill wanted to trick Mr. Blackwood so they could flip it for six digits.

  Jesse whistled. “That’ll be a sweet payday. How much work will it need?”

  “The guy took real good care of it, but it hasn’t r
un for years. It was something special for him and his wife.”

  “Why’s he getting rid of it? His kids have got to know how much it’s worth.”

  “They’re not car people, and he has the farm to pass down to them.” She paused, then decided to confide in Jesse. “The owner…he wants the car to go someone who really cares about it. He’s very sentimental.”

  Jesse snorted. “And he’s thinking of selling to Bill?”

  She shook her head. “Me.”

  Jesse arched a dark brow.

  Squirming in her seat, she continued, “The business could really use the money from the sale. Bill thinks it could bring in a hundred and eighty thousand.”

  His brow drew even higher. “Nice.”

  “Right?”

  “But you don’t feel good about it.”

  Again, she shook her head.

  Jesse straightened and glanced around the room. “Listen—don’t sell yourself out. You do it once, and it starts getting easier. The excuses flow and they all make a lot of fucking sense, like how you’re owed…everything.” He paused and a crease formed in his forehead. Did he see himself in his words? “You feel strongly about something, don’t let anyone push you around.”

  And there endeth the lesson.

  She gave him a small smile. When Gage and Bill had bombarded her with their crazy ideas about the business, Jesse had always been her level. Looked like he still was, his own bad decisions aside.

  There was a tap on the door, their one minute warning.

  “I’m warning you, Josie, Bill isn’t smart enough to dig himself out of his own holes. Find a way to get out on your own.”

  No. No matter what, she was Bill’s little girl. Still, it didn’t mean Bill would make the best decisions regarding her. “I’ll watch out for myself, and you do the same.”

  As the door opened, Jesse pinned her with a serious stare. “I’m really sorry, Josie. My shit isn’t something you should be stressing over when you have Bill’s mess.”

  She nodded numbly. Her brother always played the part of protector. But even he had his snapping point and Bill cutting him off from all support had been it.

  She wandered out to her car, deep in thought. What if the land had been handed down from Jesse’s grandma? Would they have grown up in Moore, or escaped here? She might’ve found herself in Moore, looking for a job and meeting up with a hot farmer/mechanic—