by Frost, Sosie
“Marry me, cook this every night, and I’ll make you a happy woman.”
A tempting offer had he not come home with another woman last night. “And what about the girl who just left?”
Quint banished the thought. “Aw, she’s nothing to me. Can’t even remember her name.”
“How romantic.”
“It might have been romantic…but I can’t remember last night either.”
I chuckled. “Must have been one hell of a party.”
“Nah. Just trying to forget what happened the night before last.”
“What happened?”
“Don’t know.” He quieted. “Can’t remember her name either.”
I passed him a napkin and sighed. “Does everyone in the Payne family hate themselves?”
Quint gave me a grin that might’ve unhooked my bra if I wasn’t already smitten with the wrong brother.
“Nah,” he said. “Everyone else takes better care of themselves now. They’ve got something to look forward to. Weddings. Babies. …Homecooked meals.”
“And what do you look forward to, Quint?”
He winked. “Watching Tidus lose his fucking mind when he realizes his garage is now a cafeteria.”
I shrugged, taking a new order from a curious patron. “It’s fine. I gotta make money somehow.”
Quint peeked into the truck. “But you chose to make money in his garage—his sanctum. His home away from the gutter. If he’s not on a bender, he’s here.”
I’d served up dozens of orders of barbeque today, but a handful of cash couldn’t ease all my worries. I didn’t want to think of Tidus on a bender. Especially since I hadn’t seen him all weekend.
The lull in customers gave me a chance to duck out of the truck. I caught Quint’s arm, leading him away from the happy, satisfied patrons.
“Is Tidus in trouble?” I asked.
He inhaled his food and spoke between bites. “He’s always in trouble.”
That didn’t bode well. “I mean…is he in bigger trouble than usual?”
Quint’s smile might’ve earned him an extra piece of cornbread, but his frown…
It broke my heart.
“Don’t know anymore,” he said. “Usually he’s predictable. Gets into trouble, sobers up enough to apologize, then does it again. But lately, he’s been worse. Withdrawn and quiet. Doesn’t visit the farm as much. Just stays here—alone.”
“Do you know why?”
“Nope, and Tidus isn’t talking. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t expect him to come home, stay at the farm, and deal with all the chaos there. We’ve got babies on top of babies now. Crowded as hell with everyone either expecting, babysitting, changing diapers, or getting hauled out into the fields to start planting. I told Julian we could save space by combining the greenhouse nursery with the one for the babies, but he won’t go for it—”
He didn’t want to talk about Tidus, and I hated making him do it. “What can we do?”
Quint seemed to lose his appetite. “You don’t get it. This time…things are different. Tidus is pushing us away.”
“Do you think it’s…” I didn’t want to say the word. “Drugs?”
“Probably.”
“Oh.”
“But his problem isn’t what he’s taking or drinking. It’s that he doesn’t know how to be happy.”
“Has he ever been happy?”
Quint snickered. “Have you met him?”
I shrugged, glancing over a garage covered in more dust than grease, with more bills to pay than customers to serve, and empty bays and no owner to be found.
Quint was right.
Tidus had given up.
“I wish I could help him,” I said.
Quint finished his cornbread, pitched the plate in the garbage, and wiped his hands on his pants. His glance over the garage wasn’t as reverent. Just…sad.
“Honey, I love my brother, but there’s nothing any of us can do to help him anymore.”
My heart sunk. “You can’t believe that.”
“We’ve tried everything. Interventions. Family meetings. New jobs. Bail. Nothing changes him. You can’t force a man to fix his shit if he just wants to destroy himself.”
“Is it really that bad?”
“You tell me.”
He pointed towards the truck turning into the gravel lot. My customers bolted, dropping their sodas and abandoning their plates as Tidus wheeled a little too close to their picnic table.
“Good luck, Honey,” Quint said. “Once he kicks you out of the garage, just remember—I’ve already proposed.”
And something told me a marriage to Quint Payne would be a far more entertaining way to spite Tidus than setting up a fully-fledged barbeque restaurant on his property.
Tidus slammed the door to his truck, scaring away a few potential customers. Seemed like everyone in Butterpond preferred to scurry to the opposite sidewalk when Tidus Payne approached. Maybe they weren’t frightened, but they certainly didn’t want to strike up a conversation.
And that was fine with him. Tidus’s stare would have rekindled the fire in my smoker. He said nothing, merely pointing for me to abandon my truck and meet him in his office.
I stood my ground.
He wasn’t impressed.
“What the hell are you doing?” Tidus gestured over the people, food, and napkins cluttering his property. “What is all this?”
He was intimidating in the leather jacket but even more menacing when he tossed it aside and rolled up his sleeves. Dark ink tatted his arms, and his forearms flexed as he clenched his hands into fists.
All for show…I’d hoped.
I offered him a pleasant smile. “Are you hungry?”
“Are you insane?”
“How about a sandwich?”
His hand raged through his hair, twisting the messy, nearly chin length locks. His jaw tightened. The stubble grew in thick. Wherever he’d gone, he hadn’t shaved for a few days. His eyes were bloodshot, and dark shadows colored beneath.
I feared the worst, but Tidus seemed as calm as could be expected. Alert, but not twitchy.
Maybe Quint was wrong?
Sure, Tidus had vanished without a word for the weekend, but maybe it wasn’t to score drugs.
Unfortunately, that didn’t make his trip good. He hadn’t slept, hadn’t eaten. He also didn’t seem as happy as Quint, so I doubted he’d slunk away to meet an equally miserable woman.
If it wasn’t barbeque, it wasn’t any of my business. Couldn’t help but feel relieved though.
But how could any red-blooded American man get so fussy when I’d filled his garage with the savory aroma of smoking meats, onion, and garlic?
“Are you cooking?” Tidus practically growled. “What the fuck are you doing in my garage?”
“It’s as good a place as any to set up shop,” I said. “Now hush up—and maybe smile, for crying out loud. You’re scaring away my customers.”
“Your customers?”
I had quite a few waiting to be served. Who needed four brick and mortar walls…or four functioning wheels? Happy customers were the best sort of advertising.
“I needed to make some money,” I said. “I figured you’d appreciate that.”
“Are you kidding me?”
I plunked my hands on my hips. “You think I can’t do it?”
“I think you’re goddamned insane.”
As long as my padded cell had a stove, I’d survive. “While you were gone—without warning anyone, by the way—I had a stroke of inspiration.”
“Great. You get inspiration. I get the regular type of stroke.”
“I needed to make some money, you weren’t around to ask, and so…” I extended my arms. “Welcome to Payne Autobody and Repair—Home of Honey’s Barbeque.”
The grand unveiling might have been more impressive if my clothes weren’t stained by a thick, sticky line of barbeque sauce, my curls hadn’t puffed and escaped my bandana, and I didn’t smell like the wrong
end of the smoker. At least it gave me that authentic barbeque pit master look people expected from their brisket.
Tidus scowled.
So much for catching him in a good mood.
“We’re gonna be partners,” I said. “Aren’t you excited?”
No.
No, he wasn’t.
And now I wished he’d spent the weekend out on a bender.
Tidus might have been more…amiable to the business opportunity if he’d been drunk.
“Like hell we are.” Tidus pointed to the parking lot. “Close your fucking truck down before I take a fire extinguisher to this circus. You’re gonna blow us up!”
He didn’t wait for me to answer. He swore all the way to his office, slamming the door behind him.
Everyone flinched, including the new crop of curious customers waiting in line.
I gave them an awkward wave. “I’ll…be right with you! Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere!”
At least, not until I made enough money and repaired the truck.
Which meant that, despite his complaints, my business would slightly encroach upon Tidus’s garage.
But what was he worried about? I only needed a little room in his parking lot, his yard, one of the bays, the bathrooms…
Basically, every last available inch.
I followed him into the office, interrupting him before he barked another profanity.
“Don’t test me, Tidus Payne. I will wash your mouth out with soap before you eat my food.” I punctuated my warning with one of Momma’s sassy finger-wags. “You sit there and listen up.”
Tidus wasn’t a patient man, just bided his time while plotting revenge. He stayed silent. That worried me more.
“I know it’s only optimism that’s preventing my truck from being totaled,” I said. “But the kitchen is functional. It’s all the stuff under the frame that’s the fire hazard.”
“Everything in here is a fire hazard,” he said. “You set up your smoker next to my propane tanks. Unless you’re planning to serve up some third-degree burns, Chef Boyardee, you can’t set fires wherever you want!”
“I…” Whoops. “Hadn’t realized that.”
“All I wanted was for you to blow me before you blew everyone up.”
“What if I move the smoker?”
“Oh, sure.” He swore. “And, while you’re at it, you can move right-on in. Butcher your meat on my desk. Wheel the smoker into my bays. Fuck, set up some restaurant seating in my living room upstairs. No one’s using my bed, want to piss in it too?”
I crossed my arms. “You’re awfully dramatic when you’re cranky.”
“Shut it down.”
“Be my partner.”
He snorted. “We have a very different definition of the word partner.”
“I need the money, but I can’t move the truck. You have a spot for me to cook, but no payment to start the repairs.” I leaned over the desk. “Sooo…we’ll shift the smoker away from those pesky propane tanks, and then I’ll start handing you all those pretty little dollar bills in my pocket.” I winked. “Won’t even make ya dance for them…though I wouldn’t complain.”
“No.”
He lacked vision.
“Tidus, I really hoped you’d be excited about this.”
“Fuck me. Why?”
“Because I’m catering a party on Tuesday.”
“Good. Then on Wednesday you can find yourself a new mechanic.”
Sure, he said that now. “You know…you should be thanking me. Just five minutes before you magically returned to Butterpond, Mr. Peterson ordered a brisket sandwich and an oil change. I told him you could do it tomorrow at noon.”
“What the hell—”
“Look. This is perfect. I’ll make money serving food. You’ll make money providing a service to my customers while they finish their meal. Everything works out.”
“You really are a pain in my ass.”
“Are you kidding?” I sat on the edge of his desk and crossed my legs. If he wouldn’t listen to me, maybe my hips could do the talking. “This is a great opportunity. Think of all the business you’ll grab right off the street. Imagine it. People come to the garage for a sandwich, and while they’re in line, they see a big, beautiful sign with all your services and prices—oil change, wheel alignment, fluid check.”
He frowned. “I don’t have a sign like that.”
“I ordered it for you yesterday. Should be here by end-of-business Thursday.”
He shot out of his chair. “Jesus Christ, Honey!”
I shushed him with a wave. “Everyone always needs a little maintenance on their cars. If they come here, not only do they get a delicious, homecooked, hot meal, but they won’t think twice about your exorbitant prices.”
“Exorbitant?”
“You’re driving people away in cars that shouldn’t be on the road.”
“Not sure why you’re complaining. Daddy’s gonna be the one who ends up paying me.”
Not if I had a chance to make my own money. “Why are you being so difficult? Afraid my idea might work? Afraid you’ll have a week where you actually turn a profit?”
“How do you know—”
I rolled my eyes. “Had a look at your books when I cut the check for your sign.”
“Barbeque and a felony?” He laughed. “Believe me, they don’t let you smoke in jail.”
“Honestly, Tidus. It’s like you want your business to fail.”
“And it’s like you’ve moved the fuck in. Your smoker is in my parking lot, you won’t get the hell out of my office. What’s next? You decide you’re sleeping in my apartment tonight?”
The thought had crossed my mind, but I’d found myself an adorable little room in Butterpond’s only inn, owned by an elderly couple willing to barter the bed for barbeque.
“Don’t get the wrong idea, Casanova,” I said. “You want me gone, and I’m trying to leave. Only way I can do that is if I work. Give me a week or two, and you’ll never see me again.”
He grinned, but the smile was only meant to bare his teeth. “Not sure if I want you out of my life or on your knees.”
“And here I thought I wasn’t worth the work.”
“And yet you’re still so insulted.”
“Only because you’re trying to get me hot and bothered by rubbing me the wrong way.”
His gaze slowly admired my body. “Oh, there’s no wrong way with you, Honey. You’re so goddamned hard up for me, one little touch would send you over the moon.”
He was right.
But that still made him oh, so very wrong.
“You’re an ass,” I said.
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“You’re never gonna fuck me.”
He winked. “You haven’t seen the final repair bill yet. I can screw you as hard as I want.”
What sort of a man got his enjoyment by being a total bastard?
Tidus was an infuriating, irritating, miserable man.
But he did it all to himself.
“You have three options, Tidus,” I said. “You can either flatter me, insult me, or work with me. I’m done playing games. I know what you’re doing.”
His smile returned. “What’s that?”
“You want to piss me off. You want to hurt me, watch me get insecure, and make me hate you as much as you hate yourself. But the only thing I can’t figure out is if you’re doing it because you think you’re better than me…or if you get off on being disliked.”
“Can’t it be both?”
“I’m done,” I said. “I have a business to run, and so do you. If you were smart, you’d let me set up outside if only so Butterpond realizes they still have a mechanic. Provided he survives this conversation.” I shushed him with a glare. “One more innuendo, and I’ll pour a quart of hot sauce down your throat.”
“What would Daddy think about all those threats?”
Enough was enough.
“Get this through your head, Tid
us Payne. The only thing I want out of you is a functional, operational food truck. I don’t care what you think about me.”
The hunter green of his eyes turned predatory. “All the more reason to tell you what I really think about you.”
His voice rumbled over my name, and the lazy baritone tickled my skin. He swept a hand over his beard, as if hiding a smirk of pure, dangerous amusement.
My heart beat a little quicker. The room was too hot, too sticky, especially when studied so intently by his heated stare. I backed towards the door.
“Save it,” I said. “I have customers waiting.”
My hand found the knob too late. He spoke before I could scurry to the safety of my truck.
“I think you’re absolutely perfect, Honey Hudson.”
I wasn’t immune to flattery. I just knew better than to listen to his silver tongue.
He pushed away from the desk, but I wasn’t about to be ridiculed. I opened the door. He was quicker. His hand flattened on the wood over my head, forcing it shut. Blocking my path.
I turned. It was a mistake. I regretted facing him, breathing in that leather and rust scent, letting myself get pinned between the sheer strength of his chest and my only escape from his stare.
I averted my gaze, too irritated to look into his eyes.
Too afraid that he’d spoken the truth.
His words caressed like a touch. “I think you’re the most beautiful woman in the world.”
“And I think you’re the type of sinner the devil would kick outta hell.”
He laughed. “Thank you.”
“It’s not a compliment.”
“Every word you speak to me is a compliment.”
He stepped closer, trapping me against the door. My heart plummeted to my feet, pounding so hard I’d hoped it’d punch a hole through the floorboards to help me escape.
I should have left Butterpond when I had the chance.
Should’ve raced out the door, hitchhiked home, and stayed in a world I understood.
Meat. Smoke. Fire.
Now a new heat flooded through me, suffocating me from the inside and boiling every dark, secret place only Tidus could awaken. His words stoked the flames, his eyes fed the fire, and a single touch might have scorched me to ashes.
But he didn’t move.
Just towered over me.
