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Collision Course by Harte, Marie (1)

Chapter 1

“Two dozen red roses and I’m sorry I screwed your sister?” Josephine “Joey” Reeves stared at the thirtysomething guy in front of her counter, thinking she must have misheard him.

“Yeah, that doesn’t sound so good.” He sighed, finger-combed back his trendy bangs, and frowned. “I was going to go with ‘Sorry I fucked your sister,’ but that’s a little crude. Probably just ‘I slept with your sister,’ right? That’s better.”

She blinked, wondering at his level of stupidity. “Um, well, how about ending at just ‘I’m sorry’?”

He considered that and nodded. “Hey, yeah. That’ll work. Do I need to sign the card? Maybe you could write that for me. My handwriting sucks.”

So does your ability to be in a committed relationship. Joey shrugged. “It’s your call. But if it were me, I’d prefer a note from the person who’s sorry, not from the woman selling him flowers.”

Her customer brightened and chose a note card from the stack on the counter. “Good call. Hey, add another dozen while you’re at it. She loves roses.”

Joey tallied up the order while he signed the card, then took it from him. The guy really did have crappy handwriting. After he paid and left, she tucked the note into the folder of orders due to go out in another hour. For a Monday afternoon, the day had gone as expected and then some. The store hadn’t been chock-full of customers, but it hadn’t been empty either. Late spring in Seattle had most people out and about working on their gardens, not inside shopping for hothouse blooms.

Still, enough anniversaries, birthdays, and relationship disasters had brought a consistent flow of customers into S&J Floral to make Stef, Joey’s boss, more than happy.

Joey hummed as she organized, thrilled that she’d gotten the hoped-for promotion to manager that morning. She’d worked her butt off for it, and that diligence had paid off. She wanted to sing and dance, proclaim her triumph to the masses.

Except it was just her, Tonya in the back putting together floral arrangements, and a random half-dozen shoppers perusing the store. It had been Joey’s idea to add some upscale gifts to their merchandise. Buying teddy bears, pretty glass ornaments, and knickknacks went hand in hand with buying flowers. S&J had seen a boost in revenue since last December when they’d implemented the big change.

Thank God it had worked. Joey appreciated Stef taking a risk by believing in her. And now…a promotion to manager and a $50K salary! With this money, she and Brandon could finally move out of her parents’ place and start fresh, away from the history of mistakes her family never let her forget. She couldn’t wait to tell her best friend Becky the good news.

Determined to start over again, Joey dug into her orders and updated delivery times, getting in touch with their new delivery guy, a cute twenty-year-old who’d no doubt soon be rolling in tips.

“Well, hello there.”

She glanced up from the counter and froze.

“You work here?” A large grin creased a face she’d tried hard to forget.

The man who’d been haunting her sleep, who’d dogged her through a wedding and sizzled her already-frazzled nerves, looked even better in the hard light of day.

“H-hello.” She coughed, trying to hide the fact that her voice shook. When she could breathe without hyperventilating, she said, “Sorry. What can I do for you today?”

The look he shot her had her ovaries doing somersaults and her brain shutting clean off.

The first time she’d seen him had been on a visit to her first wedding client ever, and she’d been floored. The guys who worked at Webster’s Garage all looked larger than life, covered in tattoos, muscles, and that indefinable sense of danger they wore like a second skin. But it had been this guy. Webster’s paint specialist. The tall Latin lover with dark-brown eyes and lips made for kissing, who had snared her.

He had a way of raising one brow in question or command that turned her entire body into his personal cheering section.

“…for some flowers. I dunno. Something that looks like I put thought into it?”

Focus, Joey. Be professional. This isn’t personal. Don’t get all gooey on the man. “Ah, budget?”

He sighed. “For Stella, it has to be decent. Girl is like a human calculator when it comes to anything with value. If I skimp, she’ll know,” he said, still grinning. He took the binder she slid to him and leafed through the floral selections. “I’m Lou Cortez, by the way.”

“I remember.” He’d only introduced himself once, months ago in the garage while she’d been going over flower choices with his boss. But Joey had never forgotten those broad shoulders, chiseled chin, or bright white smile. Wow, was he too hot to handle.

She’d kept her distance—or at least tried to. She’d been invited to the wedding, having become friends with the bride. Of course, all the woman’s employees had been invited as well. Joey had done her best to steer clear of the man women seemed to drool over. Talk about trouble she didn’t need.

She realized he’d stopped looking through the binder and was staring straight at her. More like through her. Wow. How did he do that? Bring so much concentration and intensity, she felt as if his gaze reached out and wrapped around her, holding her still?

And why, when confronted with all that masculinity, did she want to stammer and obey any darn thing he said? She had to force herself to be strong, to speak. But she just stared, mute, at so much male prettiness.

His smile deepened. “And your name would be…?” God, a dimple appeared on his left cheek.

A dimple. Kill me now. Breathe, dummy. You can handle this. It’s business. “Oh, right. I’m Joey.”

“You don’t look like a Joey,” he murmured.

Her heart raced, and she forced herself to maintain eye contact. “Short for Josephine. So the flowers. Did you find anything you like?”

A loaded question, because his slow grin widened as he looked her over. Then he turned back to the binder and shook his head. “Nah. I need something original. Do you design bouquets?”

“Yes.” More comfortable on a professional level, she nodded. “We have some amazing florists and—”

“No. You. Do you put flowers together?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I want you to do it.” He shrugged. “Del, my boss at Webster’s, you remember her?”

She nodded. How could she forget the woman with such cold gray eyes, tattoo sleeves, and funky ash-blond hair braided in twists? The same woman she’d made friends with not long after meeting. Heck, she’d attended Del’s wedding.

“She said you were amazing. My sister needs something amazing right now.”

The flowers were for his sister. Oh man. He’s sexy as sin, he has a body to die for, and now he’s buying flowers for his sister?

She softened toward him. “Do you know her favorite flower or color? A scent maybe? Did you want sophisticated or simple? How old is she?”

“Ah, something cool. I don’t know. She’s gonna be twenty-three.” He rattled off a few ideas, and she made quick notes.

“I can have this for you by…” She paused to check the computer. “Tomorrow. Would that work?”

“Hell. I really need them today. Her birthday isn’t until Friday, but she got some shitty news, so I wanted to give them to her when I see her later. I’m willing to pay extra, no problem.”

Adding charming and thoughtful to the Lou List, Joey did her best not to moon over the man and kept a straight face. “Well, if you can wait until the end of the day, I’ll try to fit them in. We close at seven. Is that okay?”

His face broke out into a relieved smile. “Gracias, Joey. You’re doing me a huge favor.”

Ignoring his smile, she called on her inner manager. “Well, you’re doing something nice for your sister. And I know all about crappy days.”

“Yeah?” He leaned closer, and she caught a waft of motor oil and crisp cologne, an odd blend of manly and sexy that nearly knocked her on her ass. “Who tried to ruin your day, sweetheart? I can fix that.”

She blew out a shaky breath and gave a nervous laugh. “Ah, I just meant I’ve had those kinds of days before. Not now. It’s just a regular Monday for me.” A great Monday, considering her promotion.

He didn’t blink, and she felt positively hunted.

“Well, if anyone gives you any trouble, you let me know, and I can talk to them for you. Nobody should mess with a woman as pretty and nice as you.” He stroked her cheek with a rough finger before she could unglue herself from the floor and move away.

Then he glanced at the clock behind her, straightened, and said something in Spanish. “Sorry, Joey.” Her name on his lips sounded like a caress. “Gotta go. I’ll be back at seven to pick them up, okay? Thanks. I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything. I mean, I’ll probably have to charge you extra for the sudden notice. It’s a rush order,” she blurted, not wanting him to think she was giving him special favors.

“I’ll pay, no problem.” He slid a card toward her. “My number in case something comes up with the flowers. Or a customer bothers you.” He nodded to it. “You’re a sweetheart. I’ll see you soon.”

He left, and she could breathe again. Still processing the overwhelming presence that had been Lou Cortez—mechanic, paint expert, and all-around heartthrob—Joey tried to calm her racing heart.

One of their regulars plunked a few items on the counter, her blue eyes twinkling, her white hair artfully arranged around her face. “Don’t know how you let that one get away. If I was a few years younger, I’d have been all over him.” She waggled her brows. “Then again, he looked like he might be open to an octogenarian with loads of experience. Think he’d mind if you gave me his number?”

They both laughed, even as Joey tucked the card into her pocket and rang up Mrs. Packard’s items. The thing burned in her pocket, a link to a man she knew better than to step a foot near. She’d throw it away after he picked up his flowers. Joey had made mistakes with a charmer a long time ago, and she had no intention of ever going down that road again.

* * *

“Aw. Come on, baby. Don’t be like that.” Silence, then the groveling of a man who’d done wrong echoed through the garage bay, adding a jolt of much-needed humor to Lou’s late Monday misery. Sam continued to apologize into his cell phone. “Okay, okay. I swear I’ll take you to that stupid party. Ivy…” Sam sighed. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.”

Lou snorted. Some men didn’t know a thing about women. Like the dickhead who’d just dumped his younger sister. Lou wanted to bend the guy into a pretzel, and he hadn’t liked the SOB to begin with. Good riddance. Then take his buddy Sam, still groveling into the phone. Before the guy had hooked up with his girlfriend, he couldn’t talk to, compliment, or even look at a woman without sounding like a Neanderthal. Thank God Ivy had managed to kick his ass into gear. Now the giant with a jaw like granite was apologizing—with sincerity.

Lou glanced out from under the hood of his current project, wishing they weren’t down two mechanics this afternoon. But with one guy helping his mother with something and the other at the dentist, it was up to Lou and Sam to take care of the afternoon schedule. Three rush jobs didn’t help either, but at least oil changes didn’t take as much time as this shitty Chrysler he’d swear was possessed. And, lucky him, its owner had asked for Lou by name.

Sam finished his phone call and disconnected, tossing his cell on his cluttered workbench. He glanced around, saw that Lou had been listening to every pathetic word he’d uttered, and flushed.

“Yo, jackass. Get the lead out,” Sam barked. “Del said we have to finish the LeBaron and Grand Am by the end of the day if we want to stick Foley on Blue Altima tomorrow.”

Blue Altima—a car he loathed like nobody’s business. The damn thing had been in and out of the shop three times in the past six months, and no one liked working on it or dealing with the pain-in-the-ass owner. An old woman who ate bitch pills for breakfast.

“I’m all over it,” he muttered.

Lou had been raised by his mother, his grandmother, and five aunts. He had five sisters and thirteen female cousins—who lived way too close by—and he’d been working for Delilah McCauley since her father had all but retired.

Lou respected women. He loved women.

Yet Patsy Sidel did nothing but bitch about her car, no matter how many times the crew and Del had begged her to trade it in for one that worked.

No, he had no urge to deal with Mrs. Sidel. Not when he had his mind full of another woman with no time for him or his charming ways, which frankly baffled him.

He swore as he busted his knuckles against a stubborn bolt, the pain right up there with the headache brewing anytime he thought about Josephine—Joey—Reeves.

It continued to confuse the hell out of him that the one woman he’d had his eye on for months still refused to respond to his obvious appeal, handsome good looks, and killer grin.

He swore some more as he fought with the spark plugs on his current project, his thoughts on a sexy brunette who spooked if he so much as took a step in her direction.

What the hell had happened? It was like he’d fallen into an alternate reality. His badass boss had snagged a decent guy, complete with a kid and a dog. His fellow mechanics, all gruff, tatted, and coarse, had scored sweethearts. Even the boss’s dad had a fine woman who thought he hung the moon. And Liam was an all-around bruiser.

But Lou—the best-looking and smartest of the bunch—could barely get a smile from the chick he’d been digging?

He’d first seen her when she’d timidly stepped into the garage, months ago, asking for Del. His entire world had centered on that one moment, and it was like the fucking sun had spotlighted the petite brunette, showcasing the perfect woman in the center of his world.

Then she’d scurried by him, not looking much at any of the guys, as a matter of fact, and disappeared into Del’s office. Joey had come by a few times after that to deal with Del and flowers for her wedding. But somehow she managed to avoid being anywhere near Lou.

The guys thought it hilarious, since he’d made his interest clear. Even Del questioned what had happened to Lou’s famous ability to charm women. What made it even worse? Del liked the chick, and she’d invited Joey to hang at the wedding as a guest.

Again, he’d been denied. He’d tried talking to her only to have her stammer and light out as if her hair had caught fire. Then she’d disappeared when he’d tried to ask if she was okay.

Sheer luck had brought him into her shop today, inspired by the idea of getting his sister flowers to celebrate her breakup with a major asshole. Of course, Stella wouldn’t see it that way. But he did.

He sighed. Josephine Reeves. Demure. Sleek and pretty. Joey had a tiny frame, gently curved in all the right places though. Her mink-brown hair curled around her shoulders, long and thick. She had pretty features, nothing too remarkable. Lou had been with knockouts. Women with huge breasts and round asses, thick thighs, muscular frames, blonds, redheads, you name it.

But for some reason, Joey Reeves and her tiny hands, less-than-a-handful breasts, and slender figure got him harder than steel. Just thinking about her brought out all the dominant instincts he’d made good use of since he’d first taken a woman to bed.

Man, the thought of all he wanted to do to her… Touching her in the store hadn’t been smart, but he hadn’t been able to stop himself. Finally, they’d had a face-to-face conversation. More than the physical attraction, just being around her made his heart do weird somersaults. He’d felt happy just being near all that sweetness.

And he had another couple of hours until he’d get to see her again.

He smiled and chuckled, wondering if she’d try to pawn him off on another employee. Not that it mattered. He planned to seduce the woman into a date if it was the last thing he ever—

“Shoot, Lou.” A husky female voice jarred him from his fantasies. “My father works faster than you anymore.”

He jolted, scraping across that damn bolt again and bleeding over the engine. “You need to wear a bell.”

“No kidding.” Liam, Del’s father, didn’t sound happy. No doubt insulted that his daughter had compared him to Lou. “For the record, I’m still a better mechanic than any of the dickheads in here.” He flashed a satisfied smile. “No offense, Lou, Sam.”

Sam grunted.

“What he said.” Lou swore under his breath, cradling his stinging hand.

Like the rest of the guys who worked in the shop, Liam Webster wore his brawn well. Six-two and built like a brick, the guy looked and acted a decade younger than his sixty years. Hell, Lou was no pushover, but he had no intention of ever going up against Liam. The old man looked like the type to fight dirty. With a daughter like Del, he no doubt knew how to handle conflict.

On a regular basis.

Del McCauley, now that she’d married Mr. White Picket Fence, looked good wearing a gold band on her finger. Other than the ring, going home daily at five, and smiling all the damn time, his boss hadn’t much changed. Then again, it had only been a week since she’d officially become a Mrs.

Lou realized Liam had used the word dickhead and Del hadn’t laid into him. “So we can swear again?”

“Yeah.” Liam blew out a breath. “Now that my princess snagged herself a man and is living in wedded bliss, the rest of us are free to talk like normal people.”

Prior to her wedding, Del had pronounced the garage “swear-free” for months in an effort not to swear at her own wedding.

“It worked, Dad.” Del grinned. “I didn’t say one fucking thing wrong.”

“Ah, there’s my girl.” Liam hefted a beefy arm over her shoulder and squeezed until she squeaked.

Lou grinned. Del really was a cute Amazon. “You two taking off?” The time had reached five already.

Only two more hours until he got to visit his own princesa.

“Yep. Time for this old man and his daughter to go home. I’m eating at the McCauleys’ tonight.” Liam beamed.

Must be a great thing to see his daughter married to a decent guy and into a hella nice family. Lou constantly struggled to keep his sisters in line and his cousins from going off the deep end when it came to men and bad choices.

“Oh?” Lou wiped his hands on a dirty rag to stanch the bleeding.

“God, Lou. Stop.” Del marched off and returned with a clean rag and bandage. “Use these.”

Lou used the rag to take care of the excess blood, then slapped the bandage on his throbbing knuckle. “Check that, Liam. Your baby girl is all domesticated. Want to kiss it and make it better, Del?”

She flipped him off, and they laughed. “Don’t work too hard, Lou.” Del shook her head and darted a sly look his way. “Wouldn’t want to be too late when you pick up those flowers for your sister.”

“How the hell do you know that?”

She shrugged. “I know all and see all, Cortez. Remember that.” She huffed. “And make sure to tell Heller to stop hogging all your time when you see him tomorrow. I need you in here too, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Lou worked for Del mostly, but his paint work he did through Heller’s shop. Heller’s Paint and Body—which had read Heller’s Paint and Auto Body before the Auto fell off the sign—specialized in high-end paint jobs, and Lou got a real kick out of creating works of art with wheels.

“I’m not kidding. I don’t care how big or mean Heller thinks he is. You belong to me.” She scowled, then turned on her heel and stalked back to the office.

Liam shook his head. “Be nice when you tell him that.”

“Oh, I will.” Only a man courting death mouthed off to Heller.

Liam followed his daughter out of the garage.

“Tell Heller what to do? I don’t think so.” Lou snorted, heard Sam’s mumble of agreement, and got back to work.

Heller had first been his boss, but now Lou considered the guy a friend. A lot like the jack-holes working in Webster’s, Heller had size, muscles, and a toughness brought about by a hard life. He also had a stare that could shrivel a guy in seconds. In addition to his fierce physique, the guy had a brain like a computer. Heller didn’t say much, but when he did, people listened. He was fucking smart and lethal.

He also looked like an angry Nordic god, and his scowls sent most people running in the opposite direction. Lou didn’t mind and liked the guy just fine.

“Del said you’re working at Heller’s tomorrow?” Sam asked.

“Yeah.” Lou went back to finishing the Chrysler. He had to get started on that next oil change. They didn’t make any money off the routine jobs, but they kept clients happy and coming back because they did everything for the car. Easy stuff, but Lou also had another to finish before he could leave to get to Joey’s flower shop on time.

“He’s not a bad guy.” Sam didn’t say any more.

Done with his project, Lou drove the Chrysler outside, took the Grand Am into the bay, and readied it for an oil change.

“Helped me out with Senior a while back,” Sam continued, his deep voice like the growl of an angry bear. And that was Sam in a good mood. The guy had huge arms tatted from his wrists to his shoulders and up his neck. His scruffy cheeks showed him regrowing a beard and ’stache. Sam didn’t laugh much, but he smiled more since dating Ivy than he had in the three years Lou had known him.

Sam didn’t like many people. The gang at the garage, Ivy, and J.T.—Del’s brother. And now…Heller? “Heller helped you out?”

Like Sam, Heller could be particular about those he called friend. Lou drained the oil, waiting for Sam to continue.

Sam told him about a fight at a popular bar they frequented and about how Heller had stepped in to keep things mostly fair. Meaning Sam kicked the asses of four douchebags while Heller made sure no one brought a gun to the fight.

Sam looked away from the engine he was working on. “Make sure to tell him the next beer at Ray’s is on me. The plan is to head there Friday night.”

“Nobody told me.” Lou scowled.

“I’m telling you now, Romeo. Try to get a life and show up. Or is your mom still keeping you in on curfew?”

Lou cursed him in Spanish, getting an honest-to-God laugh out of Sam. Freaky. “Are you on drugs? What’s with all the cheer, man?”

“It’s called love, Lou. You ought to give it a try. With just one woman, I mean.”

“Funny.” Lou changed out the filter, then took the oil pan and dumped it in the drum in the back. He returned, put on the new filter, cleaned up the undercarriage, then finished refilling the oil and putting the vehicle to rights.

Sam, being Sam, refused to let it go. “Of course, since you’re still panting after Del’s flower chick, maybe you’re actually gonna follow my advice, huh? Doing your best to find some love, Casanova? Except the chick is smart and sees right through all that charming shit that normally works.” Sam smiled. Again.

“You got a point to make, Mr. Mouth?”

“Nope. I’m done. Heading home to Ivy for dinner.” Sam sounded more than satisfied, and Lou couldn’t blame him. He liked Ivy, the sweet thing. Though he still had no idea what a cutie like her was doing with a thug like Sam.

Sam left the bay to hang up his coveralls and grab his jacket. He returned to the bay, then parted with, “Hey, Lou, you ever find a date, we’ll double. How about that?”

“Fuck off, Hamilton.”

“Eat shit and die, Cortez.” Sam left, whistling.

The bastard.

Noting the time, Lou hustled to finish his last oil change. He cleaned then locked up after himself. Nothing he could do about the bloody bandage or smell of oil coating him like cheap cologne.

He raced to the flower shop, praying she’d waited an extra ten minutes past closing.

Not that it mattered. He’d still give Stella a shoulder to cry on, even without the flowers. If Joey had gone home, he’d have to swing by the next day. Or the next. It wasn’t that Lou would resort to harassing the woman. But if she’d just give him a chance to show her how much fun he could be, he knew he’d have a shot at seeing the real Joey Reeves.

Preferably in just the skin God gave her.

He groaned, now aroused again, and did his best to think clean thoughts as he motored through traffic to win a certain princesa needing a white knight. Or, at least, a slightly tarnished one.

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