by K. C. Crowne
My drinkonly took a second to make, so moments later I was seated at the table across from Mandy. She looked at me with those dark green eyes in a way that made me want to melt.
“I know you said no apologies,” I started. “But that was out of line. I shouldn’t have done what I did to Adam, regardless of how much of a prick as he was being.”
She smiled. “I know. That’s…just how he is. Like I said, after Michael passed, Adam took it upon himself to look out for Parker and me. Anyone who comes near us has to go through the same damn grilling.”
“He’ll drive people away acting like that. Hell, maybe that’s what he wants.”
“I know he wants more. Adam’s been trying to get us to move into his guest house,” she confessed, looking down.
I cocked my head to the side. “And why don’t you want to? Seems like a good set-up for you and the boy.”
“Because strings will be attached,” she answered, frowning. “At the very least, he’ll use it as an excuse to keep an eye on me in a way I’m not crazy about.”
Anger sparked, but I tamped it down, remembering to be reasonable. “He strikes me as the possessive type, to be honest. Saw more than a few guys like him in my line of work.”
Her eyes flashed. “You don’t have to tell me,” she stated. “But I have to admit I was a little curious when he was asking those questions. Not that I think you have something to hide, of course.”
I nodded. “I was a cop. Retired now. Got an ex-wife, and things aren’t great between us, but it’s not because of abuse or any other bullshit that little asshole was hinting at.” My voice was sharp, so I checked myself again.
“You don’t have to tell me any more if you don’t want to. “
She meant it. And I felt something strange as she spoke, like…maybe I could open up with her. Not sure what was between us, but I felt a connection I couldn’t wrap my head around.
“I was in the service, joined the LAPD right after. Started as a beat cop and worked my way up. Wasn’t easy, but I loved it. And I was damn good at what I did.”
“Then why did you quit?”
It was the million-dollar question, not one I planned to share too many details about. “An investigation went bad. Made me realize some things I couldn’t square myself with.” I was being vague, but it was all I could say without giving her the whole story. “A buddy of mine quit at the same time as me, started a security business in Seattle. Offered me a job, but I’d had about as much of the city as I could stand.”
“And your wife?” She shook her head, catching herself again, chuckling. “Sorry – I’m being nosy as hell.”
“It’s fine,” I said with a small smile. “She…found someone else. Things ended badly, but that’s all in the past.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I know what it’s like to be married and have it end.” She swallowed, her eyes drifting as the memories of her marriage interrupted our conversation.
I wanted to know more, but I also knew what it was like to not want your affairs being pried at. I changed the subject. “But there’s something more we need to talk about,” I said, sitting up and putting my hands on the table.
“What’s that?”
“Your car.” I lifted an eyebrow. “You know, the one you drove right into mine.”
Her eyes widened as if she was expecting me to tear into her about it. “Wait,” she said, raising her finger. “It takes two to get into an accident.”
“Are you blaming me for what happened?”
She smirked. “Well, just saying that I’ve been in a car with you – I know how you drive. And you’re not the most…considerate driver in the world.”
“Now, what’s that supposed to mean?” More than anything, I found it funny that she was busting my chops.
“Only that you don’t exactly keep your eyes peeled for other drivers – especially when they’re pulling out.”
“It’s not the job of the person not pulling out to be on the lookout.”
She laughed, apparently having gotten the reaction she was looking for. “I’m just messing with you,” she said, waving a hand. “Man, you can get riled up, huh?”
I shifted in my seat, narrowing my eyes at her. “You know, you’re lucky I’m a nice guy.”
She raised an eyebrow, and I could tell she was trying not to laugh. “Is that right?”
“It is. Means you can get away with a lot of shit you otherwise wouldn’t. For example, backing up into my truck and not having to worry about paying for it.”
“I already told you I’ll pay for your car. I mean, it might take a little while, but I’ll do it.”
“My truck’s already fixed.”
“I mean pay you back. Then I can get mine taken care of.”
I shook my head. “You’re not paying me a damn cent.”
She smirked. “What? You just want to rub it in my face?”
“Not exactly. I want you to let me take care of that car, ASAP. Not a chance I’m going to let you drive around with the bumper looking like that.”
She bristled, and I could sense she wasn’t crazy about me –or anyone else— telling her that sternly what to do. Hell, it was one of the things I liked about her, how she didn’t take any shit from anyone.
“And if I say no?”
I allowed myself a small grin. “Then don’t be surprised when you wake up in the morning and see that someone’s replaced your bumper in the middle of the night.”
She laughed – a laugh that was chiming and bright and sexy. “I’d tell you I’d call the cops, but is that even a crime? Officer, a strange, handsome man broke onto my property and did a little car repair for free.”
I chuckled. “But seriously, you’ve got a kid. Not a good idea to be riding around in an unsafe car.”
She scrunched up her face and looked away, considering the subject. “When are you thinking?”
“The sooner, the better.”
“How about right now?”
“Right now?” I asked, a little surprised.
“Sure. Lizzie just got in a shipment of antiques she needs to go over, so she wants me to pop in and watch the store for a couple of hours. Then I’m picking up Parker from school. I mean, if it works for you.”
“How about this – we drive over to Sam’s, you leave your car there, I drop you off at the shop, and that’s that. I’ll take care of it while you’re gone.”
She stuck out her hand. “Deal.”
I took it. Her skin was soft and warm, the feeling of flesh on flesh enough to get my blood racing.
Part of me had a feeling it was only the first of flesh-pressing we were going to be doing before too long.
Game on.
Mandy
“See you in a bit.”
“Yeah. See you.” I glanced over my shoulder at Hunter, a smile spreading across my face.
The man was strange. He was a bit of a prick, and he was cagey enough about his past to make me wonder if he had some skeletons in the closet – literally. But he was handsome as hell, and as corny as it sounded, I was sure there was a heart somewhere under those thick-as-steak pecs.
I shut the door behind me, taking a look at the job he’d done on his truck. If I hadn’t been the one who’d personally smacked into him, there’d be no sign of any damage at all. The man did good work.
I could see Lizzie’s face through the window, spying on us like the little gossip-hound creeper she was.
“Shouldn’t you be unloading some boxes or something?” I asked, stepping through the open door into the sunny interior of the store. “Or doing anything other than spying on me?”
“Are you serious? You get out of the truck of your mysterious neighbor and expect me to not stare? I mean, he dropped you off at work. That’s pretty much second base.”
“You’d have to go on an actual date for any bases to come into play. And don’t get too excited – he’s only dropping me off at work because he’s fixing my car.”
Lizzie and
I strolled through the aisles, making our way to the back of the store by the counter. A few boxes had come in, most in a state of being half-unpacked. She grabbed her Leatherman tool from the counter, flicked out a blade, and set to opening.
“You can’t tell me you don’t want to go out with him.”
I glanced down the aisles of the shop, making sure no one was listening. Only a couple customers roamed the store, and both were too busy browsing to notice our conversation.
“I don’t know. I mean…”
“There,” she said with a smile, her eyes on me as she wicked the blade through the packing tape. “There it is.”
“What? I didn’t even say anything.”
“Yes, you did – you said I mean. And that means you’re thinking about it. If you weren’t, you would’ve said no. Easy as that.”
“It’s not easy as that,” I denied.
“Oh but it is, my dear.” She put on a pretend elegant British accent as she spoke. “There’s no freaking doubt that you’re into the guy. Personally, I don’t get it.”
“You don’t get it?” I asked, feeling strangely defensive. “What don’t you get?”
She smirked. “You’re being awfully weird about him. But…I don’t know. He’s a little too rough-and-tumble for me. I’m not the muscles and the cinderblock jaw kinda girl. I like my men a little more…urbane. A little more sophisticated.”
I laughed. “Oh, like that logger you were telling me about a few weeks ago.”
“That was an exception. And besides, he had surprisingly good taste in interior décor,” she said, winking at me. “Trust me – I had an opportunity to see it.” She followed this up with a wicked laugh. “Anyway, we’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you. So, don’t even try to front like you’re not into this guy. Especially not with me.”
Part of me wanted to keep arguing, to tell her she was imagining things. But I was into Hunter, so she was right.
One of the customers approached the counter with a ticket for a dresser set. I rang up the purchase, Lizzie making her usual small talk as I did. The process gave me a moment to think about what I wanted to say.
“Alright, Mrs. Willard,” Lizzie said, handing over her card. “I’ll get this packed up and shipped over to your place ASAP. And remember – if within thirty days it’s not what you were hoping, give me a call and I’ll come get it, free of charge.”
“I love that policy,” Mrs. Willard, a trim, older woman with short, silver hair replied. “Makes me so much more confident buying something I’m not sure about.”
“We just want all our customers happy.” Lizzie winked, and Mrs. Willard was off.
Without preamble, I continued our conversation. “I think he’s hot, sure. But it’s more than that.”
“What do you mean?” Lizzie waved goodbye to Mrs. Willard as she stepped out of the shop, the bell chiming as the door shut.
“I mean…the way he is with Parker. It’s something else. As rough-around-the-edges as he might be, my kid makes him light up in a way I’m pretty sure he doesn’t know how to deal with.”
“Well, you’ve got an awesome kid – he has that effect on people. And it’s even more evidence that maybe you ought to quit fighting your feelings and see if something might happen between the two of you.”
“What? Like…date him?” I scoffed. “No way I’m ready to commit to someone just yet.”
Lizzie glanced aside, taking a sip of her coffee as something came together in her mind. With a sigh, she looked at me. “Honey, it’s been two years. I’m not trying to sound insensitive at all, but it’s not like Michael died six months ago. And he would want you to be happy. You know that. Besides, no one’s asking you to marry the guy,” she quipped. “It’s more like…” She looked around again, this time laying eyes on the copy of the receipt for the dresser we’d just sold to Mrs. Willard. “It’s like my store policy. Buying a large piece of furniture is a big deal, right?
“Sure.”
“You spend a lot of money, you put it in your house, you have to find a place for it – new furniture can totally change the look of your home. In fact, the idea of buying this thing you might be stuck with that you end up hating is enough for some people to not even want to shop in the first place.”
I settled into my seat, taking my coffee and eagerly listening to her little metaphor.
“So, that’s why I let people try things. They might like it in the store, thinking it’s the most, ahem, handsome piece of furniture they’ve ever laid their eyes on. But then they get home and maybe it doesn’t look right. Or they couldn’t find a place for it. Or maybe even the dresser they had before was just fine. Then they can just take it on right back.”
“Okay,” I said, understanding. “But this isn’t buying antiques – this is dating someone. You know, as in finding someone you might spend the rest of your life with.”
She raised a finger and jabbed it toward me. “And that’s exactly what I’m talking about. You’re the dating equivalent of someone who’s in the analysis-paralysis stage of antique shopping. You’ve got this whole is he my next husband thing in your head, so you’re too worried to do anything. What I’m saying is that you don’t need to worry about that. Just give him a try, see what happens. That’s what I do.”
“I’ve never been into casual sex.” I shook my head. “As a matter of fact, Michael is the only man I’ve ever been with.”
“You don’t need to sleep with him – you don’t have to do anything you don’t want. All you should do is go out with him, give it a shot. See what happens. Maybe it’ll be nothing, maybe it’ll be something. But that’s the great thing about dating – you’re not under any obligation to buy.”
She was making a certain amount of sense, I had to admit. I shook my head before I talked myself into it. “But Parker…I don’t want to confuse the poor kid.”
“Another thing to worry about down the road. I’m no parent, of course, but he doesn’t need to know about adult stuff until it’s time.”
“What if things get shitty between Hunter and me? Then Parker can’t ever see him again?”
“If Hunter’s a good guy, then he’ll accept it if things don’t work out. Hell, what if he’s not thinking about dating, either? Maybe you two will just have some NSA fun and that’s it.”
“NSA?”
“No strings attached,” she said, rolling her eyes at my lack of knowledge. “Wow, you really are out of the dating scene. But anyway, think about it. And no one’s going to make you do anything you don’t want to do.”
I laughed, feeling a touch better.
The afternoon went on, and eventually a couple of the guys showed up, one driving my car, the other driving something from the shop. They popped in and gave me a chance to look it over.
“Wow,” I mumbled, glancing at Lizzie, who grinned at me. The bumper was flawlessly repaired. “Hunter did this?”
“He insisted on doing it all on his own,” one of the guys said. “Said it was a special project.”
I took the keys, said thanks, and the guys drove off. School was getting out in a few minutes, so I grabbed my things and headed out.
“And remember,” Lizzie called from the door of the shop as I drove off. “The customer is always right!”
She gave me a big smile that followed me as I pulled out of the parking out – this time making sure to check both ways before I backed out into the street.
Parker was in the car a few minutes later, eager to tell me about everything he’d learned at school that day. And once we were up near the house, I spotted Hunter as I drove past the mailboxes. He was on his property, looking over one thing or another, an intense expression on his face.
“Hey!” Parker exclaimed from the back seat. “It’s Mr. Anderson! Can we go say hi?”
The kid was so eager, so excited to see him. I knew if I tried to make something happen between Hunter and me, it might ruin their relationship. I had no idea what to do.
“
Get started on your homework and maybe we can see him later.”
It was a delaying tactic. Sooner or later, I’d have to figure something out.
Once Parker was inside the house and on top of his schoolwork, I headed to the mailbox. Hunter was had also walked up to retrieve his mail. So much for taking my time.
“You get the car?” he asked as I approached the box and opened mine.
“I did.” I was nervous. I’d never felt this way around Hunter before. Hell, I’d never felt this way about any man other than Michael.
“Look good?”
“It does. And, um, thanks.”
He grunted, leafing through his mail. “No problem.”
A beat of silence passed. I broke it. “Hey, do you want to get lunch tomorrow? Just a way to say thanks for fixing my car. It’s not much, but I want to do something for you.”
He flicked those icy blues up at me from his mail as if he hadn’t been expecting that. “Lunch? Tomorrow?”
It was my chance to back down, but I didn’t want to. As soon as I’d said the words, I was confident it was what I wanted. “Lunch tomorrow. How about Millie’s Burgers? It’s near the auto shop.”
He regarded me for another long moment. “Will Adam be joining us?”
“God no.”
“Sure,” he said after a brief pause. Without another word, he turned and left.
Had I jumped in over my head? I was about to find out.
Hunter
I was at work the next day, underneath a 2002 Ford Bronco, the smell of oil thick in the air. I had to admit – it felt good to be useful. Hugh might’ve had to light a little fire under my ass to get me back in the land of the living, but I was happy he’d done it.
“How’s it looking under there?” Sam asked, his voice calling out over the Pink Floyd playing on the garage stereo.
“Just a leak – no big.” I rolled out to see him standing over me. “I’m thinking we can call Mr. Shanahan and give him the good news that it’s nothing catastrophic.”
