It’s the first Monday in October. That means Tess and I are about to be up to our chins in oil changes and tire rotations. Cap’n will be here any minute, with his parade of work trucks needing service.

He gets his employees to drive them in and drop them off while he waits here until they’re all accounted for so he can shuttle them back to their various worksites in the company van. Then Tess and I get to bust ass, getting fifteen trucks serviced by the end of the day.

Can’t complain though. The money he offered when he suggested the whole thing a few months ago was too good to pass up. It enabled me to give Tess a healthy raise and funds my classic car addiction. All it costs me is one, day-long headache, every two months.

He’ll be here at 7AM. Cap’n never late but I can’t seem to push myself out of bed. Bed is a strong word. It’s a metal-framed futon I bought when I moved in here a few years ago. The kind that’s made to be used as a sofa more than it is a place to sleep.

Which makes it perfect because I might lay on it a few times a week if I’m lucky. I stretched out a few hours ago and closed my eyes, hoping I’d be able to catch a few minutes of sleep.

Nope.

Per usual, my brain, which is a complete asshole, said, sleep? You don’t need sleep. What you need to do is relive every interaction you’ve ever had with Henley.

And work on your boards.

And recite poetry to yourself. In Gaelic.

And every law encyclopedia you ever read, you should recite those too.

And then think about Henley some more.

Even though I knew about thirty seconds after I lay down that sleep wasn’t going to happen and despite the fact that Cap’n is going to be here in about five minutes, I keep laying here, staring at the ridiculously dainty handkerchief I found stuffed into the pocket of my jeans. I took it from her a few days ago when she took it out of her purse to clean smudges of grease off her hands after I touched her. Its pale pink edged with delicate, handmade lace. Something a lady would carry.

Ladies don’t fuck.

Jesus.

Where are Mrs. McGintey’s crochet hooks when I need one?

As usual, Tess rescues me from myself by sending up a flurry of noise, banging against the roll-up with the toe of her boot.

Because she’s gonna start yelling if I don’t let her in, I stuff the handkerchief under my pillow and push myself up until I’ll standing. Find my pants and put them on. Snag a random shirt from the pile of clean clothes I tossed in my chair a few days ago on my way out the door.

She keeps kicking, even though she knows it’s a safe bet I’m not sleeping because even though I’m not sleeping, there’s a good chance I’m so lost inside my own goddamned head that I might as well be dead.

I want you to kiss me.

Nope.

Not doing it.

Not going there.

Hahaha… Like you have a choice, fuckface. Thought you were supposed to be smart.

Taking the stairs, two at a time, I jerk the garage door up on its track just as Tess starts to kick hard enough to put her boot through it.

“I’m going to sew your key to your goddamned—”

Tess is standing on the other side of it and she’s not alone. She’s got Shadrach perched on her shoulder and she’s making a racket, yowling and purring, her front paws kneading against Tess’s shoulder blade, long dark tail twitching and swishing. Gaze and lamentations aimed at the man standing behind her.

Declan.

Behind him, I can see the company van Cap’n uses to shuttle his guys back to their jobsites after they drop off their trucks. My cousin is nowhere to be seen.

“Thanks,” Tess says, shooting past me, heading for the back door that leads to the alley behind the garage. I can hear her army of strays caterwauling for her, waiting to be fed.

When he tries to follow her in, I block his way. “Well, don’t you look pretty?” I say, the corner of my mouth kicked up in something too nasty to be considered a smile. He’s got a black eye. His ear is bruised and swollen. It should pacify me, seeing him all banged up, but it doesn’t. I can feel my grip tighten around the shirt I’m still holding in my hand. The only thing keeping me from taking a swing at him is the fact that Tess hates it when we fight. Because nine times out of ten, it’s about her.

“Not half as pretty as you do, princess.” His gaze skates past me, lands on Tess. I can hear her behind me, shaking a container of dry food and talking to her minions. I hate the way his face softens when he looks at her. I hate that he thinks he has a right to look at her at all.

I shift into his line of vision, blocking him from seeing her. “What the hell are you doing here?” Two things Cap’n promised me when I said yes to servicing his work trucks. Enough money to fund my restoration habit and that my brother wouldn’t be involved in any way.

“It’s the first Monday in October.” He looks at me like I’m the asshole for asking, his gaze drawn to the ink on my neck. My chest. My arm. Not that he hasn’t seen them a thousand times, but my guess is seeing them is different now that Henley’s back. He knows what they are. Why I have them. That they’re hers.

“I know what day it is, dickbag.” I lift my shirt and pull it on, covering my tattoos because If I have to take one more second of him looking at me and feeling sorry for me, I’m going to jam my thumb in his goddamned eye. “I also know you’re not supposed to be here.”

“It’s my money paying you, same as it is Patrick’s.” He crosses his arms over his chest, swollen jaw ticking with tension.

“You can take his money and yours and shove it up your ass.”

Suddenly, his jaw goes slack, and he shakes his head. “He had something going on, so he asked me to take care of it.”

Well, that’s a fucking lie. Cap’n didn’t send him here. Dec most likely snagged the keys and hijacked the van before he could stop him. Why and why now is anyone’s guess but if I had to take one, it’d be a safe bet that his reason is currently feeding her army of strays behind me.

I open my mouth to call him on it but before I can, Tess steps between us.

“Can we not do this today, boys?” she says, her wide hazel gaze narrowed on my face. “Because I’ve got a long fucking day ahead of me and I’d rather not start it off by knocking your heads together like coconuts.”

“He started it.”

Tess whips around to glare at Declan. “Are you serious?” She plants her hands on her hips and glares at him. “Did you really just say that?”

Declan looks like someone just bitch-slapped him, eyes wide. Mouth slack. Nostrils flared. He always looks like that when Tess speaks to him directly. Like he’s rooted in one spot, and about to rabbit, all at the same time. Like he’s got a million things to say but doesn’t speak the language.

He opens his mouth to say something, or at least try to, but he’s cut off by the honk as one of his work truck pull up.

Tess turns her attention back to me. “Let’s just get on with it, okay?”

Because I know Declan’s watching and because I know he hates it, I give Tess a wink. “Did you just say you want to get it on with me?”

Like I knew she would, Tess makes gagging noises and plants her hand on my chest, pushing me out of the way so my brother’s employee can pull his truck into the open bay. “I’d rather get it on with Mrs. McGintey—and her dog.”

I grin at her, giving her the full-dimpled Gilroy while my brother looks like he’s about to blow a gasket. Since I really am an asshole and because Tess needs a laugh, I lift her hand off my chest and press my lips to the inside of her wrist. “I’d be sad if I really thought you meant that.”

Like I hoped, she laughs, curling her finger around my earlobe to give it a sharp tug. She knows what I’m doing—and why—and is telling me to cut it out. “You know what makes me sad?” She pulls her hand out of mine to snag my coveralls off the work bench. “Knowing that the shit coming out of your mouth actually works on the majority of the female species.” She tosses them at me, hitting me square in the chest.

“It’s not what’s coming out of my mouth that gets ‘em hot, Tessie.” Still grinning, I rip open the Velcro strip that holds my coveralls closed. “It’s my—”

“Can you guys shut up and get to work?” Declan says loudly, his words punctuated by the heavy slam of a truck door. Shooting a look over the top of her head, I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing when Tess turns on her boot heel and glares at him.

“Oh.” She cocks her head. “Did you finally say something?”

His eyebrows slam down over his hard, blue glare while his massive chest inflates before it slowly shrinks. Tess is the only one who can talk to him like that with repercussion. “I think you shou—”

“Nobody asked you to think, sweetheart.” She tips her head in the opposite direction, jerking her chin at toward my office window and the makeshift coffee station I have set up on an old microwave cart. “Now, why don’t you make yourself useful and go make me some coffee—I take it black in case you forgot.”