Chapter 12

Seattle Center

Joey yawned again, unable to stop herself.

“That’s fourteen yawns, Mom.” Brandon huffed. “Come on. We’re missing the balloon animals.”

“Of course we are.” She followed her son, eager to get back home where she could take a much-needed nap.

One on Saturday had come much sooner than expected. Falling asleep in Lou’s arms had been a huge mistake. Because he’d felt so incredibly good. So sexy. Despite their rough beginning, they’d muddled along way too easily. With sex and more sex.

She’d been desperate to get out in one piece, but before she could simply take off and leave a note, he’d nearly done her in. After a brief few hours of sleep, her sex machine—lover?—had woken her for more. He especially liked being on top, doing her beneath him. On her belly or her back didn’t matter with Lou “doing the driving.” And God, she had no problem riding in the passenger seat.

She’d been pinned, overwhelmed, and so turned on, she couldn’t function in her race to climax. Lou had continued to wear a condom without being asked. She tingled, remembering how good he’d felt inside her. And that mouth. Sinful. She sighed. Then she yawned again.

“Fifteen,” Brandon growled.

“Yes, dear.” She quirked a grin, only half-awake. She and Brandon spent the afternoon in Seattle Center at one of the many excuses Seattle had to celebrate a festival. This one had plenty of carnival food, gluten-free offerings, prize booths, and energy-efficient storyboarding as they walked around. Oh good, and there, a walking penis talking about safe sex.

“Mom, what’s that? A giant hot dog?”

She shrugged. As good a description as any. “Yep.” She turned him. “Come on, I see funnel cake.”

Nothing like sugaring her son up and enjoying his hyped rush while she followed him around like a zombie.

She still couldn’t get over the fact that she’d spent the night. Joey never did that. But she’d fallen asleep with Lou, not bothered by his body heat or closeness. So odd. Except after that blissful wake-up with more sex, Joey hadn’t been able to fall back to sleep, her brain buzzing along with her body.

“Oh, look, Mom. Kittens!”

She groaned and followed Brandon, doing her best to put Lou out of her thoughts. For a few minutes, at least.

They petted a few stray kittens needing good homes, and for once, Brandon didn’t bug her to adopt an animal. His attention had been lured away by wooden swords at a toy concession in the next booth.

She opened her mouth to tease him when she spotted the unthinkable. She blinked her eyes to be sure, but the apparition staring back at her—at them—didn’t fade. Across the grassy field, the man responsible for an event that had totally changed her life, the father of her child, stood staring at them. Felix Rogers.

Even Brandon could feel the weight of his stare. Brandon frowned. “Mom, who’s that?”

“What? I don’t know. Come on, honey. Let’s go home. Your mom needs a nap. Now tell me about your sleepover.” Home, where she could try to recover from hardly any sleep and sore inner thighs and pretend her world wasn’t about to change for the worse.

While Brandon told her all about Jekyll the dog’s exploits and Colin and Todd, Joey kept a subtle eye out for Felix. She saw him watching them, but he did nothing to come closer. It was all she could do to walk normally with her son when she had an urge to protect him, to keep him away from…his father.

Not his dad, because Felix had done nothing to parent or support her child. And he didn’t have to, legally.

Joey didn’t understand him. No amount of paper signed could negate the fact Felix had a son. Adoption for her had never been an option, not when she had two hands, a strong back used to the burden of hard work, and a brain. That and a need to raise and love her boy.

On the drive home, she realized that, from a distance, Felix looked exactly the same. Oh, he had a bit more maturity, but he still looked like the most popular kid on campus. Same light-blond hair, cut short and styled to within an inch of its life. No doubt the same blue eyes and killer grin. She’d been too far away to see his face clearly but close enough to know he was Felix.

Hadn’t she said with her luck she’d run into him on the street one day? Only she hadn’t counted on having Brandon by her side when it happened.

Too tired to deal with the worry that would no doubt hit her harder later, she yawned and finished the drive home. Once there, she told Brandon she was going to take a nap on Grandma’s couch, leaving him to play in her parents’ house or watch TV. His choice.

Two hours later, waking from a sound sleep, she saw her phone on the coffee table and the television on low. Brandon must have been watching cartoons, but she didn’t see him.

He walked out of the kitchen carrying a monstrous bowl of ice cream. When he saw her, he froze.

She gave a defeated laugh. “Bring another spoon.”

He brightened and returned with a second spoon, then sat next to her. As they watched The Amazing World of Gumball and ate vanilla ice cream smothered in chocolate sauce, the world seemed to right itself.

“I’m glad you had fun last night.”

“Yeah. Mr. Mike is really nice, and Del is too.”

“Not Ms. Del?”

“Well, I tried calling them Mr. and Mrs. McCauley, but Del kept asking why I wanted to talk to Colin’s grandparents. Then Mike said I could call him Mr. Mike. Del laughed at that a lot. But when I called her Ms. Del, she didn’t think it was so funny. Mr. Mike did though.”

“I see.”

“It was so fun, Mom. We played games and got popcorn. The pizza was really good, and we had to eat salad too, which I liked. But Colin made faces and did a fake throw-up. It was so good! He even spilled out chewed-up food to make it look real! We practiced it later in his room. And mine came in second place.”

“Oh, er, interesting. So did he fool his parents?”

“Del, but not Mr. Mike. He just rolled his eyes and made Colin more salad.”

“Nice.”

Brandon chuckled. “He’s pretty patient.” Her eight-year-old-going-on-forty often displayed the maturity of a boy twice his age. “Colin has a lot of energy.”

“I know Colin’s only seven, but it seems like you and Todd had a good time. Would you like to go over again sometime if he asks?” She would like to have had her son ask Colin over for a reciprocal sleepover, but where would they stay? In their living room above the garage? In the shared bedroom she and Brandon used?

Just one more reason to find a new place to live.

“Hey, Brandon, can you go get me my laptop?”

“Sure.”

He returned soon after. She shoved the rest of the ice cream his way. He gobbled it down and watched more cartoons while she went online searching for affordable housing. Something in a decent-enough area near Brandon’s school but not so expensive it would break her.

Her raise only went so far, but having to pay rent for years had taught her how to budget and live frugally. Andrew had had a point, she granted. Because of him and his strict rules, she had a head on her shoulders when it came to managing her money.

After finding a few apartments that might prove promising, nothing huge but with potential, she did laundry and some house chores and figured out what she and Brandon would have for dinner. It was nice to cook in a real kitchen with a stove, not just a tiny microwave and cooktop burner. But Joey used her own food, not soaking off Mom and Dad.

Her mother and father had been so strict after Brandon’s birth. Not the happier, mellowed-out grandparents they were today. A lot of blame, disappointment, and continued reminders that she’d better not depend on them to get her out of the mess she’d gotten herself into.

God, she’d had sex one time. She’d have thought the world ended. But for Andrew and Amy Reeves, it had. Their only child, the daughter they doted on and used as a yardstick to measure their own successes, apparently, had failed them.

After years of her working herself into an exhausted sleep every day, her parents had finally eased off. Her mother now adored Brandon. Her father loved him as well, though there were always conditions attached to that affection—as she well knew.

Brandon was well-behaved, polite, and kind. Because she’d raised him that way. And yes, it galled her that she’d had to rely on her parents for financial support with the basic necessities—food and clothes and a house—but for God’s sake, she’d been all of fifteen when she’d gotten pregnant.

No stranger to diligence, she’d done her best. Five years ago, Joey had mostly become independent. She still used her mother to babysit, and she still paid a small amount in rent, living in her parents’ rental unit, but she bought her own groceries and paid her own bills otherwise.

She’d had lean years to get to where she was now. The reason she never went out? She didn’t have many trendy clothes, only what she had for work. And she never had the money to spend on frivolities, saving each penny in hopes of one day escaping this place.

“You make the best hot dogs, Mom.” Brandon munched with enthusiasm.

“That’s me, the hot dog queen,” she said drily. Hot dogs, macaroni and cheese, and baked beans. The meal of champions. It would be good for a few days, and she could add salad or other veggies to it throughout the week to keep the meal fresh. One thing she’d taught her son—thou shalt not waste.

After they ate, she locked up the house and took Brandon back up to their unit. She tucked him in and read him a story, pleased he still let her. Then she closed the bedroom door and went back to the laptop, searching for a new place to live. But as she looked online, she couldn’t help thinking about Lou and his charming home in Rainier Valley.

About his charming bed in that charming home. About his wide smile, big hands, and charming kisses…

Joey sighed, felt the goofy grin stretching her mouth, and didn’t care. For once she’d taken care of herself, and it felt wonderful. She and Lou hadn’t promised each other anything but a good time. They’d been responsible, hurting no one.

I want to do it again.

Sex with a man she liked? A man she’d easily call a friend?

She texted Becky, arranging for a favor in the form of a sitter for later in the week, and then texted Lou, who’d been surprisingly quiet. She had a moment to reconsider after she’d sent him the text, but he answered right away.

Yes! Thursday night. My place. First, gin rummy. Second, dinner. Third, you, me, and a blindfold.

She laughed, texted back a few enthusiastic emojis, then went back to house hunting. All the rest of her worries could wait. She had a hot date with an even hotter man, her son was happy, and life was good. She’d take what she could get before the wind changed.

* * *

Lou spent a pleasant week at work. The guys at Webster’s razzed him for being so cheerful and smiling. Though he normally enjoyed work, he knew he had Joey to thank for putting a big-ass grin on his face. He hadn’t even been bothered when Del laughed at him, proclaiming him a man in love, or when Foley stuck him with Blue Altima’s evil cousin, Demon-Red F-150.

He just worked with a smile, singing along to the radio.

“I know you’re normally a decent guy to work with, but this is taking it too far,” Johnny said Wednesday morning, standing over Lou, a line wrench in hand. “Lara told me she saw you and Heller at Ray’s the other night hanging out and laughing together. Laughing with Heller?”

“I was laughing at him, actually. Because Rena still won’t give him the time of day. And you know, he’s not a bad guy. He just looks tough.” Johnny just stared at him. “Okay, he can be an asshole, and he has hands like bricks. I wouldn’t want to get into a fight with the guy. But he runs a decent shop and treats his people right.”

“Rena dogging the guy? Oh, that’s okay then.” Johnny nodded, having heard what he needed, apparently. “So you and the flower chick, huh?”

Lou groaned. “Why is it a guy is in a good mood, and everyone associates that with whoever he’s dating?”

“Maybe because you’re normally a prick with a smart mouth who likes to insult us in two languages,” Foley answered, the ass, “and lately you’re all smiles and shit.”

Sam dragged himself out from under a Nissan and raised a greased brow. “Yeah, and you gave me tons of crap about Ivy. You get what you give, man. It’s called karma.”

“One can only hope. I live a clean life.” Lou had been working out at the gym on those nights he hadn’t spent at Heller’s shop sanding down the Vette. He ate a balanced diet, not touching sugars and bad carbs. And he treated his family right. He figured he was owed a woman like Joey Reeves.

Man, she’d been fine. If he was a little bothered they couldn’t see more of each other right away due to her insane schedule—and his, truth be told—he knew it to be a good thing. The chemistry between them had him half-convinced he was falling for her. His appetite suffered, forcing him to consume energy bars to make up the needed calories. And he got jittery at a simple text from the woman. All signs he needed to proceed with caution, so good for her for not rushing things.

Except he wanted to be with her all the fucking time. Like, right now.

“What’s with the frown, Cortez?” Foley asked, a little too innocently. “Afraid she’s gonna dump you already?” He glanced at Lou’s phone vibrating on his workbench.

Lou swore under his breath, ignored the guys, and noted a message from his mother. “For your information, Foley, Mama wants to know what I want for dinner tonight.”

Activity in the garage ceased, all eyes on Lou.

“She wants to know if she should make enough for the guys at the garage. I wonder if she means Heller or you clowns?”

Sam shrugged. “Remember, I was being nice. Honest.”

“Nice?”

Even Foley blinked at that.

Sam sighed. “Well, for me. I didn’t grind you about her. Tell your mom to make those corn cake thingies.”

“Her sweet corn cakes?” Johnny looked hopeful. “Oh, hey, Lou.” He gave a fake laugh. “You know I was just kidding, right?”

“You guys are so easy.” Lou snorted. “And you,” he said, pointing at Foley. “No extra tamales for you.”

“That’s just mean.”

“Hey, you got a hot girlfriend. Suck up to her and see if she’ll make you something good.”

Foley frowned. “Yeah, but Cyn can’t do tamales. That takes authentic work, man.” He glanced around. “Don’t tell her I said that. Ever.”

Johnny gave an evil laugh. “What’s it worth to you? Maybe some pizzelles for the gang the next time she makes them? Like tonight?”

Not a bad choice. Lou loved the anise-flavored Italian cookies.

“Blackmail, Johnny?” Foley cringed.

“You know it.”

Foley sighed. “My own fault for forgetting who I’m with.”

“Who’s that?” Sam asked.

“Satan’s minions. And look, our whip-wielding tormenter herself.”

Del paused in step, having just come back from a coffee run. She sipped her drink, frowned, and said, “What?”

“Cracccckkk,” Johnny whispered, and the guys laughed.

She glared, dragged a jagged fingernail across her throat, and barked, “Back to work.” Then she darted into her office.

“Aye, aye, captain,” Foley muttered. “I swear, if she had an eye patch and a parrot, she could be Blackbeard’s evil sister.”

“Say it a little louder, Foley. I don’t think Captain Death heard you,” Sam encouraged, and they all looked to Del’s open office doorway.

No one spoke.

Lou, content with his world at present, got back to work, singing along with Clapton, much to the annoyance of his peers. Ah, life is good.

He made a quick stop at Heller’s after leaving the garage. He noted the metallic-green paint job on a Mazda that had been yellow last week. Nicely done. He checked on the pieces in his bay, realizing the power buffer had done its work. A few more touch-ups, some fine sanding to the driver’s side door, and he’d probably be ready to paint in a few days. Mateo had helped out because the Corvette now needed to be done early. The owner was paying through the nose to have it ready for a car show in California he’d added to his to-do list.

Lou nodded, pleased at the progress. He waved to Smith, leaving through the back, then went to check the main office. He planned to say hi to Heller if the guy was in, which of course he was. Heller had no life. When not working at the shop, he went home or, more recently, could be found tutoring the guys at darts at Ray’s. Poor Foley actually thought he might be able to beat Johnny someday. The sap.

“Yo, you heading home soon?” he asked, frowning when he saw Heller with his head in his hands, staring at his uncluttered desktop. “Heller?” After a pause. “Axel, you okay?”

When Heller glanced up, Lou saw tears in his eyes.

“Shit, man, you okay? What’s wrong?”

Heller blinked, but the glassy shine remained. “You should go home. The car is where it needs to be.”

“Hey, it’s me. What’s up?” Lou asked, his voice quiet.

Heller stared at him, the raw emotion making his dark-blue eyes nearly black. “My mother. She’s gone.”

Lou prayed he was wrong in his assumption. “Gone as in left your father, finally?” he asked, daring to hope.

Heller shook his head. “The cancer. It took the rest of her.”

“Damn. I’m so sorry.” He hadn’t known she had cancer. Lou had only met Heller’s mom once, and she’d been a hell of a woman. Loud, brash, and loving toward her only son. Unlike the guy’s father, Heller’s mom had been a genuinely nice person. “I had no idea she was sick.”

“None of us did.” Heller sighed, wiped his eyes, and stood. “I’m going home.”

“Want some company?” Lou asked, knowing he’d miss Joey, but Heller needed a friend.

“Nein. I have things to do. Plans to make. The funeral…”

“You need anything, I’m here for you, man.”

Heller moved around the desk and grabbed Lou by the shoulders. Then he pulled him in for a bone-crushing hug. “Danke, Lou. Danke.”

“You’re welcome. Look, take some time. Okay? You need anything, call me. Need me to handle the shop for you? No problem. I mean it.”

Heller gave a watery smile, then shoved Lou toward the door. “Leave so I can lock up.”

“Okay. Man, I’m so sorry.”

Heller nodded. Lou left, his step a lot heavier than when he’d arrived. As he drove to his mom’s for a midweek meal, he thought about how he’d feel if she passed away. As much as he’d had some real problems with her growing up, he loved the hell out of Renata Cortez. She was by no means perfect, but she was his mom. No matter how many bad choices she made in men or how many siblings she ended up giving him—and, God willing, Rosie was the last—he had a soft spot for the beautiful, naive, too-giving woman who’d raised him.

At fifty-five, his mother should be thinking about retirement, not more children. At least his aunts had tapered off on the kids, mostly. Except for Tía Chavela, who wanted a boy after two girls. Crazy woman. Didn’t she have enough proof that the Cortez family only made girls? He and Javier were anomalies, the only boys in a family of a bazillion women.

Sadly, not one of his aunts had found a lasting love. Two had husbands they’d loved who had died. Three, counting Mama, because she’d loved Rosie’s daddy, and he’d been a decent guy. The rest of her sisters had grown up with Abuela in Cuernavaca, outside of Mexico City. Moving to the States thirty years ago, they’d forged new lives for themselves. But he could count on one hand the number of stand-up men in their lives since his grandfather had died.

Hell, Lou had been his own role model growing up. After that small stint in a juvenile correctional facility and an even more interminable sentence passed by the women in his family, he’d found the straight and narrow.

Now he spent his time caring for his sisters, trying to make sure they found happiness and stability. Carla and Maria were the most centered. Both had educations and happy social lives. Stella needed help, so he kept an eye on her. Lucia, she remained a mystery. But she liked it that way. Of all his sisters, he worried about her the least. Then Rosie, the youngest, his baby girl. The closest thing he’d ever get to a daughter.

Lou had spent his lifetime raising children. He wanted freedom from that responsibility. Time for romance, no one woman but a bevy of monogamous lovers. Lou liked his women one at a time, focusing his attention on just one.

Like Joey.

He parked along the street in front of his mother’s house and sat there.

Joey. What to do about her? Unlike all the others, and Lou admitted there had been many women in his life who weren’t family, Joey Reeves absorbed all his attention. She had his dick in a knot for sure, but she tampered with his emotions without meaning to.

They’d texted back and forth throughout the week, little things about their days or something that struck them as funny. Yet for all their communication, there remained a wall between them. Normally Lou encouraged such distance, wanting fun and not much else by way of a one-to-one sexual commitment. But with Joey, he wanted more.

He’d actually thought about inviting her tonight, to a family meal. Lou didn’t do that. His sisters occasionally met a girlfriend if they all went out, and that had happened maybe half a dozen times. Ever. But he never brought anyone home to Abuela or Mama. And sure as shit not to Rosie.

He’d grown up watching a carousel of men swing past his door while they romanced his pretty mom. No way. No how. Family was life, and he would do nothing to fuck that up. Not when he’d spent his childhood, adolescence, and every waking moment patching up the holes left by a loving, if at times thoughtless, mother.

With a sigh, he left the car and joined everyone in the house. As usual, he left money on the fridge. Tonight, everyone had gathered upstairs, not in the basement. He saw his sisters, Javier and Javier’s mom, Tía Guadalupe, and her two girls as well. “Hey, Abuela.” He gave his frail grandma a kiss, and she smacked him. “Ow. What’s that for?”

As they went to sit in the dining room around his mother’s giant table, she answered in Spanish, and he switched channels in his brain automatically, realizing the entire household had gone off-English. “What?”

Abuela moved down the table to sit by her daughters while the others brought in tostadas, mole, refried beans, and more homemade goodness and set them in the center of the table. The youngest, Rosie and Stella, set places and handed out silverware. Then everyone sat to eat.

He was still rubbing his arm when his grandmother asked, “Where is this flower girl? I want to meet her.”

Well, shit.