Sweet Redemption (Landry Brothers Duet Book 2)

by CJ Warrant

  “Well…” The man pulled the cap off and scratched his balding head in a slow languid motion that matched his lazy tone and shoved the hat in his back pocket. “I have to empty the tank, remove it and weld it up—”

  “Can’t you put in a new one?” I interrupted in a growl. I had no time for this shit.

  He stepped up to me, towered over by a few inches and shot back, “Seriously man? Do I look like an auto part store?” He wiped his hands on a dirty rag from the pocket of his grayish blue jumpsuit and slowly shook his head. He had to be no older than me, around thirty-six, but from the deep lines around his mouth and the corner of his eyes, Mike lived hard. And the way the grease and dirt were imbedded under his nails of years of working under vehicles, he wasn’t the kind to mind getting dirty, especially in a fight, I imagined.

  Granted, I never backed down from a fight, but this wasn’t the time to argue.

  I backed up a step. “Okay. Then how long will it take to remove and fix the hole?’

  “Hmm, it’s about eight-thirty now… tomorrow around six p.m. or Wednesday early.”

  “What?” I exclaimed, raking my fingers through my hair. “Fuck. Listen, I have to be in Chicago by Thursday. Can you work overtime, or something to fix it? I’ll pay whatever.”

  The mechanic’s puffy cheeks turned bright pink. He shook his head. “No can do. That’s the soonest.” Mike turned away, though apparently he wasn’t done talking. “Our winter Valentine festival kicks off at noon today and I don’t want to miss it.”

  Festival? What the fuck does that have to do with my car? I looked around and spotted nothing related to a festival. No balloons, streamers, or even banners commemorating the event. Besides, Valentine’s Day was two months ago. Maybe Mike had sniffed too much gas fumes, because he wasn’t making any sense.

  Mike cleared his throat. “The party is at the VFW down the street. It’s opened to the public. If you wanna go.” Like I had any plans on attending. I’d rather run naked in an ice storm.

  I had to push. I had to be in Chicago on time…for my mother. It was the only thing I could do to make amends. This time I spoke with intense sincerity. “It’s my mother’s funeral Friday.”

  The mechanic turned back around and eyed me as though he didn’t believe me at first.

  “Seriously, it is. I took this road trip to…” My throat strained from the sudden pressure. Damn, why was I explaining myself to this man? “…to clear my head.”

  Mike’s hard stare softened. An understanding flitted across his face before he spoke. “I’m out of gas for my welder. But the delivery for another comes at seven a.m. tomorrow. Will ten or eleven do? Mind you, it’s a temporary fix. You’ll need it replaced when you get to Chicago. And…missing your mama’s funeral is a bad thing.”

  I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “Thank you.”

  Mike shook his head again. “Thanks not necessary. It’s my job. You’re gonna pay for my time anyway.”

  “Sounds good.” I wasn’t going to argue that point. I’d pay anything at this moment. “Well, since I’m here for the night, is there a hotel nearby?”

  Mike pulled the ball cap from this back pocket, slapped it back on his head and pointed down the street. “Arlene’s. It’s a bed and breakfast place and there’s a restaurant right next door. I’m sure she can put you up.” He leaned in slightly and smiled, “And you’re in luck, she made her Valentine special.”

  I gave him a single nod and gave him a thin-lipped smiled back. A restaurant next to a bed and breakfast? Wouldn’t that be a hotel with a diner? I didn’t argue that point either. “Arlene’s?”

  “Yup. Six blocks down.” There are only six blocks in this town.

  I studied the roadway and then looked back at the mechanic. Jesus, I have no choice but to walk in the slushy crap. But what made this moment even worse was that it started to snow. The flakes looked like cotton balls falling from the sky. The thick clumpy masses began to not only cover the street but also the sidewalk, which added to the three inches left over from the prior snowfall.

  For fuck sakes. This was April. Wasn’t spring supposed to show about now?

  With only jeans, an old NIU sweatshirt, and running shoes, I was already regretting what I was wearing. Fucking great.

  I headed back to my car, pulled out my small overnight bag and the black jacket from the back of the car. After putting on my coat, I started hoofing it toward Arlene’s.

  As I walked a few yards from the garage, an old seventies moss green and mustard yellow pinstriped station wagon passed me and the gas station with hiccups and resistance. The driver did a U turn, which made no sense, and pulled up next to the fueling pumps and did a spluttery stall to a dead stop.

  A bellow of Mike’s name halted me, as a curvaceous blonde hopped out of the driver’s side of the beat up hunk of metal and turned her bright blue eyes to me for split second before turning away and headed inside the garage. Their intensity grabbed me right down to my dick and put me in a stranglehold.

  I choked back a groan as I watched her sweet ass waltz out of my sight.

  She was the total opposite of the women I was usually attracted to. Short, full figured and…damn. Look at her ass in those khakis. My chest tightened at the sight of this beautiful blonde as she bounced out of the building and around the front end of the car with energy.

  “Mike,” she called out again, as she tried to unlatch the hood. I was almost tempted to walk over there and help her. Instead, I stayed rooted in the snow and watched her like a stalker.

  I couldn’t help myself. Her smile lit up brighter than the newly falling snow when the mechanic approached her. I wished I was the receiver of that smile. Even with her miffed tone, there was a hint of laughter and mischievousness sparkling in those blue depths.

  “Charlie.” Mike trudged over to her. He nudged the woman out of the way, “Move.” He leaned down and with a quick twist of his fingers he opened up the hood and locked it in place with a thin metal pole that bowed under the weight. He straightened and looked over the engine.

  Charlie. Maybe short for Charlene. Jesus. Who the fuck cares? Turn around and start walking. Yeah, right. Fascination cemented me in place as I watched the scene.

  “It’s misfiring again, Mike. I thought you’d fixed it,” she said in a huff. It was cute how her hands went to her hips and a small frown marred her porcelain face.

  “I told you it’s time to get rid of this hunk of junk. You need something safer, Charlie. Your grandmother is probably turning over in her grave knowing you’re still driving this piece of shit.” Mike rubbed at his neck, staring down at the engine.

  “This fine vehicle isn’t cacca. This was my Nana’s car. I can’t let it go just yet. Are you ready for the festival?” Her change in topic had me chuckle, but apparently it didn’t deter Mike from scolding her further.

  Cacca? Seriously? What language was that?

  “Now listen here, missy. Stop talking with all that foreign stuff you learned in those books and hear this. This car is dangerous. A death trap. Promise me you’ll get a new one or I’m not going to fix it anymore. I mean it this time,” Mike said with firm certainty as he faced her, folding his arms across his chest.

  “Fine. Let’s shake on it,” she countered, extending her hand with a wide smile.

  Damn. She was beautiful and smart. Even with her blonde hair messily pinned up on top of her head, and flushed cheeks, her smile was radiant, and sneaky.

  “Fine.” Mike shook her hand. “Now, let’s see what’s the problem. I’m sure it’s a quick fix.”

  I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. She totally manipulated the mechanic, and he didn’t see it coming. This Charlie was a spitfire. And just from what I heard, this wasn’t the first time they had agreed to Mike’s terms. She totally bamboozled him.

  The warmth of her elation caught me off guard. I couldn’t help but smile.

  Mike straightened and turned to Charlie. �
��Stop hovering. And do me a favor.” Mike thumbed my way. “Go take that guy to Arlene’s while I look at this hunk of junk. He’ll need a room too.”

  “Hey now, watch what you say around my baby. She’s sensitive,” Charlie said, stroking a headlight tenderly.

  “The guy?” Mike reiterated, and pointed to me.

  Apparently she hadn’t noticed me earlier, because her smile softened into a slight frown when she looked my way. Charlie turned back to Mike and uttered in a hushed tone but I was able to hear her clearly. “What did you do, Mike?”

  Her lips quirked up tight and she glared at the big man. Mike was at least a foot taller than her. Yet, she wasn’t the least intimidated.

  “Don’t blame me. He ran over something, and it caught his gas tank. Gotta repair it tomorrow, ‘cause I don’t have the gas to repair it now.”

  Charlie peered around Mike and smiled. “I hope so.” She walked over to me and put her hand out. “Hi. I’m Charlene White, but most people call me Charlie. It’s nice to meet you.”

  I studied her hand for a second before taking it. “Markus Landry. But you can call me Mark.”

  “I like Markus better.”

  That was honest. “Fine. Then call me Markus.”

  “You’re not from around here, Markus Landry. Chicago?”

  My eyes widened in surprise. “How’d you guess?”

  “It’s my knack. Nana always said I had a gift for languages and accents.”

  “Knack?” I questioned, not quite understanding what she was talking about. “Languages?”

  “Yes. My Nana said I have a way of remembering different languages and certain accents from different parts of the world. Of course I can’t remember what day of the week it is sometimes, but languages and the way people talk—their accents, I’m good at.” She gave me a wink and another smile.

  I scanned the tiny town and then stared back at her. I hated to be presumptuous, but one look at this woman and I saw only a country girl. “Really. You mean a linguist.” My slight condemnation was apparent because Charlie’s smile faded.

  Her eyes narrowed on me and said, “Vous êtes un connard.”

  I froze. I hadn’t taken French since high school and one year in college for fun but… “Did you just call me a dickhead in French?”

  Charlie’s eyes sparked with laughter before she spoke. “You understand—well, good. It fits,” she said with a flush across her cheeks. “I’m heading to Arlene’s. Call me there, Mike.” She trudged passed me and called out from over her shoulder, “Are you coming, Mr. Landry?”

  “Wait.” I caught up to her. I reached out and touched Charlie’s arm to stop her from going any further. “I’m sorry. It’s been a shitty day, and I shouldn’t have—”

  “What? Been a stuck-up jerk, thinking I’m some country bumpkin who doesn’t have a brain in my head? Have you ever heard the saying about assuming…”

  I raised my hands to concede, because she called me out on what I was thinking. “Yes, you’re right. And I’m sorry. I had no right assuming you weren’t capable of…” I lost my train of thought as my eyes rove over Charlie’s bold in-your-face attitude while she glared back at me.

  Damn, she’s pretty. Especially when she’s riled.

  I couldn’t help but grin like some loon. I actually found her genuine and bold attitude so refreshing. “I know this isn’t an excuse but it has been a bad week and…I lost my mother and my head still isn’t screwed on right.” I blurted out. What the hell was I thinking? I couldn’t help myself, but something about Charlie brought my feelings out of me. “I am sorry for…being a dickhead.”

  The tension in her jaw relaxed, though she kept her small frown. Did she not believe my sincerity?

  “Well, I’m sorry that you lost your mother. It still doesn’t excuse you for being—”

  “Charlie?” A woman’s shrill voice interrupted her mini tirade. We spun toward the cherry red F-150 extended cab that pulled up in the street next to us.

  “Hey, Lila,” Charlie called out. There was no warmth to her greeting. I had a feeling these two women weren’t friends.

  “Who’s he?” Lila asked with a chin lift and a wide toothy smile that reminded me of a cougar ready to pounce on her meal.

  “This is…” Charlie turned to me. “What’s your name again?” A level of embarrassment blushed across her cheeks.

  “Markus Landry,” I addressed the bleached blonde in the truck.

  “Well, from the looks of you two, I arrived just in time. I’m heading to Arlene’s for brunch. Need a ride?” Her long red fingernails, matching the truck’s paint, tapped the steering wheel.

  I said yes at the same time Charlie said no. We both looked at each other for a second before Charlie rolled her eyes at me. She actually growled low, before she turned to Lila. She pasted on a fake smile. “Thanks Lila. That would be wonderful.”

  “Yes, that would be great.” I responded with gratitude. I wasn’t in the mood to trudge through the snow in my Chucks.

  Charlie climbed in the back while I sat anchored next to the passenger side door. I hadn’t needed to look over to feel the hostility building in the cab of the truck between the two women. I also knew Lila ogled me from top to bottom when I slid into the passenger side.

  “So…Arlene’s is the best place in town for good food?” I asked, hoping to break some of the tension and the silence.

  “It’s the only place in town. But the food is great,” Charlie explained. Her body remained stick straight as though she didn’t want to touch anything inside the cab. She even kept her eyes on the road ahead and her face impassive. Whatever had happened between these two, it wasn’t good.

  Lila on the other hand, ignored Charlie and kept glancing my way, smiled and stuck the tip of her index finger into her mouth and bit the tip of her nail. “So Mark, how long are you staying in our wonderful little town? The VFW is hosting a dance. Want to go?”

  I looked over at Lila, catching her adjusting her breasts. “I’m leaving first thing tomorrow morning, as soon as Mike fixes my car. And I’m sorry, but I don’t dance.”

  “Too bad. Our annual Valentine’s festival starts at noon and lasts until Sunday.”

  I glanced at Charlie and then at Lila. “I don’t get it. Valentine’s Day was two months ago. And I don’t see anything remotely celebratory on display.”

  “Do you mean Miss Librarian here hasn’t told you anything about our town’s history or what this event is all about?” Lila peeked back at Charlie and snickered. “Well, that’s a first.”

  Charlie let out a small snort of disgust. “No Lila. Markus and I just met, right before you flounced up in your truck,” she said acidly. “And why are you driving like an old woman?”

  Flounced? Librarian? I would have never guessed. I turned and eyed Charlie casually.

  “Because I want to get to know Mark a little better,” Lila said with a wry smile. “So let’s tell this fine man about our small town.”

  With an incredulous look to Lila, I turned to Charlie and asked, “Please, can you explain?” I wasn’t sure why I wanted to know the history of a town I would be forgetting once it was in my rearview mirror, but the way Charlie beamed when I asked was good enough reason.

  Charlie bit her lower full lip. I stared at her mouth for a second, suddenly wanting a taste of it for myself. Then I leveled my eyes to hers. Blue, like the Caribbean Sea after it rained. They are bright, sharp, and I could see pride in them.

  She hesitated for a bit before she spoke. “In 1830, Friedrick Eberstark and his family came to America from Germany, and had bought property in these parts. He and his wife, Helga had five daughters, all under the age of ten. They settled here and called it home. They barely spoke the language but got on well with others in these parts.

  “He was what the people called a craftsman—a carpenter and an architect. The man was a genius. Anyway, three of his five daughters had reached the marrying age. But Friedrick had a hard time finding husbands for the
m. It was said that they were all comely.”

  I hooted out in laughter. “Comely?”

  “Yes. Comely.” Charlie shook her head and continued with excitement. “So with the help of his lovely wife, they had devised a celebration in their barn to lure men from other parts of the area and show off their daughters for marriage”

  “Did it work?” I asked with a chuckle. “How old were the daughters?”

  Charlie bit her lip again, but this time she smiled. “Actually no, it didn’t. From the historic references, Friedrick’s daughters ranged in ages of fifteen to twenty when the celebration had taken place.”

  “So what happened to the daughters?” I asked earnestly. Not because of the story itself but the way Charlie told it. Lyrical and engaging.

  “Friedrick’s friend Jakob Hitzig came over a few years later, and brought with him four sons. You can guess what had happened with his daughters, except for the youngest.” Charlie wiped the corner of her eyes. She too was laughing. The tinkling sounds of her laughter made my chest feel warm and I couldn’t stop smiling.

  “So what happened to the fifth daughter?” Lila asked with a frown. Apparently, she didn’t think anything Charlie said was remotely funny.

  Charlie lost some of her good humor. “The book said the third sister died from childbirth, along with the child. So the fifth sister took her dead sister’s place.”

  “That explains about the town, but what about the festival?” I asked, puzzled at the odd story.

  Charlie’s mouth quirked up in a wide smile that dug deep into my chest. “The celebrations Friedrick and Helga had for their daughters continued on for their grandchildren, and to this day we keep with the tradition.”

  “So this still has nothing to do with Valentine’s day?”

  “No, it doesn’t,” Charlie said with an infectious grin.

  “Then why call it the Valentine’s Festival?” I was even more baffled.

  “Because that is the name of our town, and Friedrick and Helga started the celebration during this time of the year, so it stuck. For some of us townsfolk, it’s another reason to come together and celebrate.” Charlie shrugged. “Others, to find love. So are you going to the dance?”