Chapter Two
Mike Stevens watched Ellie storm out of his store like an angry tornado, and would have regretted being so surly with her if she wasn’t constantly needling him every time they crossed paths. It was like she enjoyed pissing him off and bringing the asshole out of him.
She was Captain Hammer to his Dr. Horrible. Catwoman to his Batman, but without the super-hot sexual tension. Or tight leather cat suit.
Okay, so that was a stretch. There was definitely sexual tension, but there shouldn’t have been. There would never be anything between them, not since he’d overreacted and been such a dick to her the one time she’d come on to him. Even when he tried to be nice, she wouldn’t let him, and he continuously said something that aggravated the animosity between them.
Not that he could take all the blame. She gave as good as she got.
Pip stole a French fry from his container and he looked down at her with a mock scowl. “I thought you already ate?”
“I did.”
“Then back off my fries, you monster.”
Pip giggled and grabbed another fry, her tiny teeth gleaming as she chomped down.
“Did you just call my child a monster?” Gracie asked from behind him.
“She is! She’s stealing my French fries.”
Gracie grabbed a fry as she passed. “She gets it from her mama. What did you do to Ellie? Knock her over the head and stuff her in a closet for later disposal?”
Mike sighed. “She left, and for the record, it’s not my fault that she holds a grudge.”
“I don’t blame her. I’d hold a grudge, too.”
“I know. You forget, I’m the one who listens to your husband complain about how stubborn you were for the twelve years you gave him”—he covered Pip’s ears—“shit.”
“Well, hello handsome! You’re awake!” Gracie bent over and came up with her son, who looked a little drowsy, and addressed Mike, “But now we’re happily married with two kids. So, you never know.”
Mike paused with a fry halfway to his lips. “Are you suggesting I’m going to marry Eleanor Willis? She’s a kid.”
“Twenty-four is not a kid.”
“It is when I’m thirty-four!”
Gracie huffed at him as she hauled the chair around the desk next to him. While he’d been shocked still, Pip had stolen the fry right out of his hand.
Little imp.
He picked up his burger and took a big, juicy bite. God, he could live on Jenson’s bacon burgers—morning, noon, and night.
Gracie covered Ian with her breast-feeding shield and kicked off her heels. As she placed her feet on his leg, he gave her a baleful look. “I am eating.”
She wiggled her toes in response. “So? They don’t stink, and besides, when you’re done stuffing your face with the burger I bought, I figured you could rub a girl’s aching tootsies.”
“I’m not touching your creepy E.T. toes. That’s what your husband is for.”
Gracie kicked him with a laugh. “You are such a jerk sometimes.”
“Mommy,” Pip said in a warning tone. “That’s not nice.”
“Sorry, love.” Gracie stuck her tongue out at Mike when Pip was distracted by his food. “Why do I put up with you?”
Mike swallowed another bite before answering. “Because you feel sorry for me because no woman will have me?”
“Please, I do not. You are a total catch, when you aren’t in a mood. What happened to the nice guy I used to know who was always joking around and smiling?”
Mike was reluctant to tell her the truth because in true Gracie form, she’d want to fix everything. If he told her that business was down and he might have to give up this space, she’d offer to cover his rent. He didn’t want her money or pity, so he kept silent.
“I guess having women break my heart over and over has finally caught up with me.”
“I didn’t break your heart, did I, Uncle Mike?” Pip asked.
Mike kissed her brown curls. “Nope, you’ll always be my girl.”
Gracie leaned over and squeezed his shoulder. “You just haven’t met the right one yet. You always go for these damsels in distress and expect them to fall for you because you saved them or whatever. You need to stop chasing and become the prey.”
“The prey? Seriously?”
“Hear me out. Women like a man who isn’t too available. A challenge, and if he’s a little bad, all the better.”
Mike made a face. “So all these years that women have been saying they want a nice guy was just a load of crap?”
“We do want a nice guy, but we also like a little excitement. A little danger.”
Mike chucked Pip under the chin. “Don’t listen to any of this, okay? Uncle Mike won’t be able to handle it if you come home one day on the back of some delinquent’s motorcycle.”
“Uncle Chase has a motorcycle, but mom won’t let me ride,” Pip said.
“Good.”
“You could get one,” Gracie said.
“Get one what?” he asked.
“A motorcycle.”
He stared at her. “A motorcycle?”
“Why not? You’d save on gas, and they are hot.”
And the sad thing was, he was tempted to take her advice. After the last year of strikeouts, Mike was at a loss. Why was it so hard to hook a woman and keep her for more than a few months? His best friend, Travis, said he sabotaged himself and didn’t even realize it, but he had no idea how.
“Yeah, and dangerous. I’d be dead in a week.”
“Oh, don’t be such a pansy! Talk to Chase and Gabe. Maybe they’d give you some lessons on how not to kill yourself.”
Chase Trepasso and Gabe Moriarty were cool, but he wasn’t going to ask them how to ride a motorcycle.
“Or, we could just forget all about your crazy scheme to make me cool and I’ll just finish my burger.”
“Oh, ye of little faith, mon frère. I have not yet begun to scheme,” Gracie said.
“First of all, not your brother—”
“I thought frère meant friend?” Gracie said.
“What? No, mon ami means my friend—”
“Are you sure?” She stole another fry off his plate, her expression doubtful.
Mike gritted his teeth in frustration. “Am I sure? Didn’t you take French in high school? Why don’t you know?”
“I took German, not French, and I switched out, remember?”
“Okay, we’re veering off topic, which is, I don’t need to pretend to be something else to get women.”
“Oh, come on, do you never watch romantic comedies?”
“Only when you and Gemma forced me.”
“Do you remember that movie The Boyfriend School? The guy does a total transformation, including a fake accent, and when he comes clean, he still gets the girl.”
“Life is not a chick flick, Gracie. Women don’t like being manipulated and lied to.”
Gracie, finished feeding Ian, put her son against her shoulder, and patted his back. “I’m not saying you have to go that far, but dirtying up your image might not be such a bad thing. You could start small with a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt, on the tighter side. You know, show off your man boobs a bit.”
“Dude, you are a wife and mother. I thought your days of objectifying men were over.”
“Haven’t you ever heard the phrase ‘married, not dead’?”
“I am going to tell your husband,” he said.
“Narc.”
Mike shook his head. “Just when I thought you were mellowing out.”
Ian let out a hefty burp, and Gracie crooned, “That was great, baby.” She continued to rub his back as she focused on Mike again. “Look, I am just saying that sometimes you need to adjust the presentation in order to attract the right girl. You’re a nice guy, but…”
He didn’t bother listening to whatever came next. He’d heard it all before.
Mike, you are such a nice guy, but…
But. It always came down to the but.
He really didn’t understand it. He was no longer the rail-thin techy nerd he’d been in high school. Strength training had added fifty pounds of muscle since then. He had interests beyond the computer repair business he’d build for himself. Women didn’t hide their attraction to him.
So what was it about the long run that always left him alone? His longest relationship, Ashley Greene for ten months, had even told him when she dumped him that he was just too nice. What the fuck did that even mean—that because he wasn’t a self-centered douche bag, he didn’t deserve someone?
The door to the shop opened and Drew Carlson, his friend Gemma’s older brother, ducked inside, looking every bit the pro-football cornerback. Drew was six-foot-four and two hundred twenty-five pounds of raging fury on the field, he was fast and hard to take down. Off the field, he was a good guy. Drew and Mike had gotten to know each other well over the years, especially since Mike had spent so much time at the Carlsons’ home in high school.
After graduation, when Drew would come home to visit Gemma, Mike and Drew hung out more and more, but since he’d been drafted, and his mom lived in Boise, Drew’s presence had been scarcer, so they hadn’t really talked much until Gemma and Travis’s wedding.
Mike noticed the subtle limp in Drew’s gait. Drew had been tackled hard by two linemen on the Raiders back in January after he’d intercepted a pass. His ankle had turned with five hundred pounds bearing down on him, snapping the bone and nearly every ligament. It had killed the Idaho Grizzlies’ chance at the Superbowl, and they had lost the play-off game by one field goal.
The doctors had tried to advise him to retire, but Drew wasn’t ready to give up.
“What’s up, Stevens?” Drew came around the desk and held out his hand to Mike.
Mike stood up, and set Pip on his chair. He took the hand Drew offered him and gave it a squeeze. “It’s been too long, man.”
“Yeah, I know, but at least this bum leg is good for something. A friend of mine drove me out here to visit Gemma and stick around for the alumni game in a few weeks. Hopefully I can prove I’m not done playing.”
“Ehem.” Gracie coughed loudly.
Drew’s gaze traveled over Gracie in obvious appreciation. “Gracie, you’re as pretty as ever.” Drew smiled at Pip, who was scrunching down into Mike’s chair. “Hey, Pippy. Don’t you remember me?”
Pip jumped off the chair and ran to hide behind her mom.
Gracie laughed. “Ah, Drew, still slaying the ladies, I see.”
“Apparently, I’m losing my touch.” Drew turned back to Mike, and asked, “I was coming by to see if you wanted to go out for some beers later?”
Mike really wasn’t in the mood to go out and bullshit, no matter how good it was to see Drew. He didn’t like to use the word hermit, but really, that was an apt description. Then again, if he was going to meet someone new, he wasn’t going to do that sitting at home binge-watching Gold Rush.
There was Ellie’s computer to fix, and the sooner he got it done, the closer he would be to getting his business back in the black.
“Look, man, I’d love to, but I got a lot of work—”
“Oh, please take him,” Gracie interrupted. “He’s become pathetic.”
Mike scowled at her. “Thanks, pal. Hey, don’t you have to get back home or something?”
“Nope, I’m good. Seriously, Drew, he has been such a homebody lately. I think it’s because his love life bites.”
Mike’s fingers curled as he resisted the urge to shake her. As if he wanted his dry spell advertised to a guy who had women running to him with barely a crook of his finger.
Gracie stood up and went over to put her now-sleeping son into his car seat. “On second thought, I get the feeling Mike might impale me with one of his tools if I don’t beat it, but it was good to see you, Drew.”
“You, too.”
Gracie held her hand out to Pip. “Come on, love. Let’s go get ice cream.”
Pip gave Mike a half a hug and raced to her mother.
Mike shook his head. “Bye to you, too.”
Gracie blew him a kiss. “Yeah, yeah, you know I love you, Goober. See you tomorrow.”
She closed the door behind them, and without her there to run interference, Drew turned his full scrutiny onto him.
“Whatever you think you need to get done, just forget about it. I might have something to shake you out of your rut.”
“Oh, yeah? And what’s that?” Mike asked.
Drew’s grin was just this side of evil. “You’re just gonna have to come out with me to find out.”