14
Not taking no
[Hank]
I’m a fucking asshole, and I admit it. I don’t know why I left her. Caught between dragging her to her room and running, I ran. I should have at least checked on her, but I didn’t. Fear drove me away. I lost control with her. So willing. So receptive. Midge makes me lose my mind, and do stupid shit, like come inside of her. She could get pregnant. I run a hand down my face, shivering with the thought.
Would it really be so bad? I second guess.
Yes, I decide. Midge doesn’t need this right now and neither do I.
Then, when I remember the way she looked up at me, begging me to stay, eyes pained when I didn’t. She crushes me, when I’ve done this to myself.
The next morning, I find coffee brewing in a clean coffeemaker, the windows washed, and piles of papers stacked neatly behind the waiting room desk when I enter work.
“What the hell?” I snap as I see Midge sitting at Brut’s desk, him leaning over her, directing her to something on the computer screen. I don’t handle any invoicing. I just do what I’m told to do and enter it in the main computer inside the garage. I have no understanding of running this business, mainly because I never wanted to know. I didn’t want to work here—ever—and then when I no longer had a choice, I only wanted to rebuild cars, like I was rebuilding myself. But seeing Brut all business like, angling over Midge, sets my blood boiling.
“Good morning,” Midge says quietly, returning her gaze to the computer. Brut nods in greeting and continues to direct our new office manager.
“Can I speak with you a moment?” I ask of Midge, but Brut peers up at me.
“No,” he says.
“Excuse me?” I growl at my older brother. I love him, but I’ll think nothing of crossing his desk and taking him out.
“You’re not doing this again.” His eyes drift to Midge and back to me. “No.”
“What the fuck?” I snap.
“Brut,” Midge warns, her fingers pausing on the keyboard.
“Midge. I’m sorry. I offered you this job. We have a deal with Pendelton’s car, and I keep my promises.” He looks up at me. “And he’s not running off another office manager.”
“I didn’t run off the last one.”
“Oh, right. You just slept with her, which fucked her over, and she quit.”
God dammit.
Midge closes her eyes.
“Middy, please.”
“Don’t call me that.” Her voice is hardly a whisper, and she stiffens. Her fingers return to typing, and she ignores me. I deserve the cold shoulder, but I won’t let Brut interfere.
“Outside. Now,” I bark at my brother. He pushes off the desk and rounds the corner, leading the way out the front door. The second we are in the yard, he turns on me.
“You’re a fucking idiot.”
“I know.” The response stuns my big brother into silence. I cross my arms and rub my chin. “I fucked up. How much does she hate me?”
“She didn’t mention you, other than to say she wants to fulfill her commitment without it being awkward. She promised me a temporary office manager in exchange for Pendelton’s car being complete in two weeks’ time and I intend to keep her.”
I’m not liking the innuendo in his voice. “Let her out of the deal. Cut her some slack.”
“Actually, she’s holding it over me. She says it’s insurance. She needs the pitch. She wants to work for his company, and that car is her ticket in. I’m not screwing her out of it because you can’t keep your dick in your pants. Or better yet, when your dick finds a good thing, your head gets in the fucking way.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“The fuck I don’t. I see the way she looks at you. You could shit yourself, and she’d think you hung the moon, but you’re still hanging onto a ghost. A phantom who was invisible to you even when she was alive.”
“You think I don’t know that?” My arms drop to my side, fists clenching at the reference. My stomach rolls with the reminder I drove to the cemetery after leaving Midge. The ritual has become a habit with no meaning. I have nothing left to say to Kit’s grave.
“I don’t know what you’re thinking. Though you’d drool over her, wag your tail, and wait for her attention, Kit never looked at you like Midge. Man, wouldn’t it feel good to have someone look at you like you looked at Kit? I think it’d make me feel fucking alive as shit, but what do I know?” Brut huffs. “We’re both in love with women dead to us.
“Oh, are we talking about Lily now?” I mock. My brother has his own demons with women.
“No, we are not discussing Lily. We’re talking about Midge. A beautiful, intelligent, successful woman in there.” He swings an arm in the direction of our garage. “You know what, maybe I should ask her out? She needs a man who will treat her right.”
“Like you treated Lily?” I step closer to him. His eyes burn with fire at the verbal slap I’ve given him about Lily.
“You wouldn’t dare ask my girl out.”
“Your girl? That’s not a fucking girl. She’s a woman, Hank. A woman who needs attention, and you’re wasting it on someone who could never give it to you.” Brut swipes a hand over his white hair. “I’m tired of having this conversation with you. Just stay in the garage and let her do her thing in the office. I need some help getting organized, and she threw in some marketing tips as a bonus. I need to get a grip on this place.” He brushes past me, purposely bumping into me like we are kids again. I stagger at the force and let him have his moment. My shoulders slump as he yanks open the front door. Watching it close behind him, I realize my brother might finally be done with me, and he was the last man in my court.
+ + +
For three days, Midge and I circle one another, but her presence consumes me. The cleaned waiting room. The organized office. The fresh coffee. Everything has been scrubbed, covered, or removed. Brut drew the line at the old leather couch. He claims it has sentimental value, and the only thing I can imagine is him losing his virginity on it. Otherwise, the wasted DNA on those cushions could be a science experiment in why people should not reproduce.
In the meantime, Midge works on sketches and graphics between fielding calls, placing orders, and filling our calendar. She’s talented, though I don’t understand all her drawings. I see dishes and home accessories as she described them to me, but I have no idea what it means. I don’t own a home to decorate.
I can’t take the silence between us anymore. I know I need to be the one to say something, and as the third day draws to an end, I cross the waiting room to speak with her.
Fuck me, she’s wearing glasses. The hot secretary look works on her. She’s been wearing jeans each day. Once with a flannel shirt exposing a low-cut tank top underneath. Another with a loose-flowing tee. Today, it’s a sweater over another tank, but who’s keeping track? She looks at home here, and I both love it and hate it. Midge is too good for this place, but damn, if I don’t like seeing her working at the front desk, especially with those sexy glasses.
“Can we speak?”
“Sure,” she says, keeping her back to me as she continues to type on the keyboard.
“Let me take you out this weekend. We can talk.” Her hands freeze. “I need to explain some things.”
“I can’t. My kids are home now.” There’s more to her rejection. I wish she’d just turn and tell me she hates me. Then I could blame everything on her, instead of taking the fault as I should. I hate myself. “Ronin has the play this weekend—Friday, Saturday, and Sunday—but on Sunday, Liam has a doubleheader, his first ball game of the season, and I’ll be there.”
I nod, knocking a fist on the counter. “I could go with you.” I don’t know where the offer came from. I haven’t even met her kids. She spins in her seat, peeking up at me over the rim of those fucking glasses. Damn, she looks hot. The whole naughty secretary thing going on with the sweater open over her shirt, hinting at luscious breasts that could fill my mouth. Fuck, I fucked this up.
“Why?”
“What?”
“Why would you want to go with me?”
It’s a legitimate question, and my answer is honest. “I want to spend time with you.”
“But you didn’t want to,” she retorts as her eyes drop like her voice. She’s wrong, so wrong, and it’s all my fault.
“That’s not true. I just—"
“Hank, I can’t—” But it’s my turn to cut her off.
“I know. I’m sorry. Just let me come to the play, come to the game.” She pushes the glasses to the top of her head, and I want to lay her back, undress her, and ask her to wear only those glasses, but I’m promising to be good.
“I’m trying to be the bigger person here. These are my kids, Hank. I don’t need you messing with them, too.”
“I understand.” And I do, more than she might think. It’s why I’m promising myself I’ll be good. I just want to know more about her. “No hands. Just time.”
Her brow pinches, her face tilting away from me. She’s thinking.
“Fine. Tommy and Edie are coming to the play on Friday. Ivy plans to attend on Saturday with the kids, and Tommy, Edie, and Ivy are coming to the game which is at noon on Sunday.”
What the…?
“How did they all get invited?” I sound like a jealous boyfriend, and I am jealous. She never asked me, though she might have if I hadn’t been a dick.
“Edie and I spoke last week. I told her about the play. She wanted to see Ronin. She met most of the kids during the fundraiser.” Midge shrugs. “Liam has a crush on Ivy, and he begged me to ask her to his game. To my surprise, she said she’d come see him.”
My heart remembers a time when we did things like this. Tommy and the guys with little Ivy in tow. Kit and Tommy were always about family. Sometimes, I think that was her issue. She saw me as family but not romantically. I sigh, willing away thoughts of history.
“What time is the play on Friday? I can pick you up.”
“I need to be there early. Crew dinner and all. I’m also hosting the after party on Saturday.” She sighs, rubbing her forehead. She adds under her breath, “Why can’t I say no?”
“To me?” I question, my tone falling an octave in concern.
“Just in general. Like the party. Forty teens and me.”
“I’ll come supervise.”
“Hank, don’t—”
“I’ll be there.” I turn on my boot heels and walk away before she can reject me, before she keeps me out of her kids’ life as one woman kept me from my own.