Chapter 10

Friday evening came all too soon. Sending that text to Lou had been one of the more difficult things she’d done lately. But a conversation with Becky, then dealing with her parents again, had proved to her she had to start living for herself.

No, it wasn’t exactly normal for her son to see a mother who never spent time with others outside the family. Grandma and Grandpa were all well and good, and for the most part, they dealt fairly with Brandon. Her mother did, at least. She loved the stuffing out of the boy.

Andrew could at times get preachy, but Brandon had found a way to ignore him while acting as if he paid attention. Joey would have admonished her son about it, but her father could get on her own last nerve. No doubt her boy had picked up the fake listening trait from her.

“So what do you two have planned for this weekend?” Amy asked as she dished some macaroni casserole onto Brandon’s plate.

“I’m sleeping over at Colin’s tonight.”

“Colin? Didn’t you just go to his birthday party last weekend?” Andrew asked.

“No, Grandpa. That was Todd. Colin was at the party, though. He’s younger than we are, but he’s super good at soccer, so Todd and me play with him sometimes at school. He’s having a slumber party for his dog’s birthday. Did you know dogs can celebrate birthdays?” Brandon shoved a huge helping of macaroni into his mouth and talked through his food.

Her father cringed while Joey shared a grin with her mom she quickly erased when her son looked her way.

“Brandon,” Joey admonished. “Chew, swallow, then talk. Grandpa doesn’t want to see your half-eaten food.”

“Sure he does. Right, Grandpa?” Brandon talked with his mouth open, his words garbled. “Look at my cave full of Big Foot boogers.”

Her father crossed his eyes. “That’s just gross. Besides that, you’re doing it wrong.” Andrew took a big forkful of broccoli and chewed, then showed off green teeth and broccoli mush. “See? Slime from the planet Kazooma.”

Brandon laughed. As much as her father could be such a downer at times, he had moments where he played and showed his love. He and Brandon continued to talk about dogs, soccer, and school.

“So, honey, what are you going to do while Brandon’s at his friend’s?” her mother asked in a quiet voice. “Got any big plans? Hanging out with Becky?” Amy paused. “Got a date?”

Hating to lie to her mother but in no way wanting a lecture about the perils of men in this day and age, she shrugged. “Nothing big planned. Becky mentioned maybe going out with some girlfriends. We’ll see.”

She noted her father half listening while pretending to be super engrossed in Brandon’s play-by-play of his last soccer practice.

Amy frowned. “You know, I think it’s time you started dating again. You’re too young to be so alone.”

Shocked that had come out of her mother’s mouth minus a monologue on birth control, Joey stared.

“I mean, you’ve worked so hard raising Brandon, what with your job and going to school too. I just think you’re missing the fun of being young and free.”

A small frown appeared on Andrew’s face before he pointedly looked from Brandon to Joey. “But she’s not so free, is she?” Having said his piece, he turned back to his grandson and talked about the Sounders win over D.C. United—and the only reason Joey knew it was about soccer was because Brandon talked about no other sport lately.

Ignoring her father and mentally counting to ten before she said anything that could be construed as “defensive,” Joey focused on her dinner. It now tasted like dust and went down as badly, but she managed to keep smiling, took another forkful, and replied, “Nah. I’m having all the fun I need, Mom. Managing the store has opened up some new opportunities for me.” She hated that her father looked so satisfied. Did he never want his daughter to have a relationship outside the family? She forced herself to sound happier than she felt. “I might even have another wedding to do, and Stef is giving me the green light to run the whole thing. As in, it’ll kind of be my own business. I think. Tied to the shop, of course. But we’re talking about maybe making it a completely separate entity.”

Her mother looked like she wanted to change the subject back to the forbidden—to men—but she refrained. “Good for you. You’re naturally gifted when it comes to business. So smart.” She beamed. “Just like me.” They both laughed, and Joey relaxed a bit. “So other than work, what else are you doing this weekend? Your father and I are thinking of heading to Port Townsend, staying over Saturday night.”

“For the craft show,” Andrew chimed in. “No, Brandon. Like this.” He made another face that sent her boy into gales of laughter.

“Did you want to come with us?” Amy asked.

“No. Brandon’s sleepover tonight will make him crabby tomorrow. He has fun but never gets enough sleep at his friends’.”

“You were the same way.”

“Was I that independent at eight years old?”

“No. You wanted to move out at six!”

“And here I am.” She sighed.

“And here you are,” her father repeated. But this time he had a glint of humor in his gaze when he added, “The prettiest girl I know with the ugliest little boy. How did that happen, Amy?” He smiled at his wife. “Must be genes from your side of the family.”

“Ha, ha.” Amy rolled her eyes. “I know where he gets his goofy sense of humor from, that’s for sure. And it’s not me.”

Grandson and grandfather both snorted with laughter, and Joey couldn’t hold back her amusement. Better to laugh than cry, she told herself, cherishing the small moments with her father that never lasted.

An hour later, as she drove Brandon to Colin’s house, something clicked. “Oh. This is Colin McCauley, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, so?” Brandon fiddled with the radio stations, settling on some ’80s throwback tunes.

“Nothing. Just curious.” So she’d probably see Del then. Colin’s stepmother.

Nervous at the prospect and not sure why, probably because it was one more connection to Lou, she tried to shrug off her nervousness. “Remember that wedding I worked? That was for Colin’s new mom.”

“Oh. Del. I like her.” He leaned closer. “But sometimes she says bad words, and Colin’s dad puts her in time-out.”

She did her best not to smile. “Is that so?”

“Yeah. Colin’s dad is really big. But he smiles a lot, and he’s always giving Colin man-hugs.”

“As opposed to regular hugs?”

Brandon nodded. “They’re better because it shows how much Colin’s dad loves him.”

She swallowed around a lump in her throat. “That’s nice.”

They drove toward Queen Anne, and she wondered how that must feel, to have hugs from a man who loved you unconditionally.

“Mom?”

“Yes?”

“Is my dad still sick?”

She gripped the steering wheel. Hard. “Why do you ask?”

He shrugged and looked out the window. “I don’t know. I just wonder about him sometimes.”

Joey had never wanted to lie to her son, but telling Brandon his father hadn’t wanted him was too cruel for anyone to hear, let alone a child. So she’d told a skewed sort of truth. “Yes, I think he is. He was very sick in his head and his heart when you were born, sweetie.”

He plucked at his pants and sighed. “I know that, Mom. I just think it would be neat if I had a dad who could give me man-hugs. That’s all.” He glanced at her and smiled, her bright little boy with dark-brown eyes, a mirror image of her own. “But your mom-hugs are the best in the world. I told Colin that at soccer last week.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. His mom died when he was a baby, so now he’s getting used to Del’s hugs. And Del has strong arms.” He laughed. “I think he’s scared of her.”

“I’m scared of her,” she said drily. “She does have big muscles. And tattoos too.”

Brandon blinked. “Really?”

“You’ve never seen them?”

“No. Cool. I’ll ask her to show them to me.”

And like that, mention of his father drifted to the far corner of his mind, his enthusiasm for another sleepover taking precedence.

Thank God. Though she’d been sorry things hadn’t worked out between her and Felix, that he’d signed the release form had been a huge relief. She’d heard horror stories about angry exes and child custody nightmares. Granted, the money would have been nice to get, because babies were expensive. She hadn’t been alone the night Brandon had been conceived, so why not split the cost of raising their child? Yet not having to deal with Felix and his rich, jerky parents at the expense of child support? She couldn’t put a price tag on that.

Becky said he’s back in town. Seattle had nearly seven hundred thousand people living in it at any given time. The odds of running into Felix were slim. Though she knew how the world worked, and with her luck, she’d end up running into him on a street corner.

She’d always known the possibility existed that Brandon might someday see his father. So telling him his father had died, as her mother had wanted her to, didn’t seem right. The sick theory had worked thus far, but she knew at some point she’d have to get more detailed as to why she and Felix hadn’t worked out.

He’d been two years older than her when they’d separated. Which would make him twenty-six by now. And like the other times people had mentioned him in passing, she had only a vague curiosity about him. He belonged to her distant past, not her present or her future.

“There, Mom.” Brandon pointed to a pretty blue house with pots of flowers outside and a black muscle car in front. Definitely Del McCauley’s house. Joey parked behind Del’s car and turned to Brandon.

“Honey, this is two weeks in a row. Are you sure you want to go?” She’d been asking him that since he’d made plans yesterday, feeling guilty because once again she had the perfect opportunity to see Lou. Thinking about having sex while her innocent son readied to play with his friends.

Ugh. She was going to hell, no two ways about it.

“Mom, seriously.” He nodded. “I want to go. I can, right?”

“Sure, Brandon. I just wanted to make sure.”

His wide grin told her she’d worried for nothing. “Good. Because his dog is awesome. And Del lets us have pizza and candy.” He grabbed his bag and tore out of the car.

She sighed and followed him. Pizza, candy, and a dog. No way she could compete. She felt her guilt lessen, knowing her son would be having the time of his life while she fretted about what to do or not do with a man out of her league.

They rang the doorbell and waited. From within, Joey heard a deep male voice, barking, then feminine laughter. Del opened the door and smiled down at Brandon.

“Yo, champ. Hey, Joey. Come on in.” She held the door open for them. “What’s up, guys?”

Joey smiled. She liked Del. Pretty but with rough edges, Del McCauley could swear with the best of them. She had sleeves of tattoos on both arms, wore a loop through her eyebrow, and had a stud in her nose. Her ash-blond hair was typically done up in creative braids, as it was currently. Joey thought the woman’s hair defied the laws of physics and the laws of beauty. Because despite all her badass, Del was a stunner.

“Mike, Brandon’s here,” Del yelled.

Another reason Joey liked her—she never felt low-class around Del, mostly because Del was a class all by herself. She yelled when she wanted to yell, swore when she wanted to swear, and laughed a lot. And she didn’t tolerate fools, snobs, or idiots.

“I heard you, woman,” Mike shouted back from somewhere in the house.

Joey grinned and glanced around. A lot of brown in the house, from the furniture to the carpet to the furnishings.

“I know. Don’t say it. We like brown.” Del shrugged. “It was like this when I moved in last year, and I’m not much into decorating. But man, it’s work avoiding my sister-in-law, the interior designer, who can’t seem to leave us alone about it. A major pain in my ass-toundingly tough hide,” she said, recovering quickly as Colin, Brandon, and Todd stared at her.

“That’s a dollar,” Colin said with a crafty gleam.

“Astounding is not a swear word.”

Colin frowned. “That’s not what you were going to say.”

“Oh?” Del’s brow rose. “What was I going to say?”

Colin opened his mouth to answer when Brandon elbowed him in the arm and whispered, “If you say it, then you owe her a dollar.”

Colin frowned. “That’s sneaky.” He grinned. “I’m going to try that with Ubie tomorrow.”

Del ruffled his hair. “Go for it, kid. Now scram. I’m talking to a grown-up.”

This time Brandon remembered to give Joey a kiss before dropping his bag and darting away with the boys. They nearly ran over Mike, Del’s husband, in the hallway before disappearing into the house.

Mike McCauley. Like Joey, he was the image from which his own son had been imprinted. Same black hair, same blue eyes, same smirk. Man, was he good-looking and, by all accounts, a great dad.

Man-hugs. Nice.

Mike ambled over to Del and hugged her. “Hey, Joey.”

She did an inward swoon and smiled back. “Hi, Mike. Geez, Del. Do you know any men who aren’t more than six feet tall?”

Mike grinned, kissed his wife’s cheek, then walked into his kitchen.

Del shrugged. “What can I say? My life is filled with testosterone.”

“And pizza, candy, and a dog, so I hear.”

Del laughed. “Yeah, in that order, though right now the dog’s outside, thank God.”

“We’re also having salad,” Mike announced. “And a side vegetable.”

“Salad is a side vegetable.” Del frowned at her husband, who could be seen puttering around in the kitchen when he moved past the wide doorway. “We’re getting a supreme pizza. It has veggies on it. We don’t need more green at the table.”

“Veggies,” Mike growled, his voice pretty loud for being a room-length away, “are good for you. The kids need good carbs too.”

“Hell, not this again. There’s nothing wrong with boys eating pizza for dinner. Just. Pizza,” Del said, her voice rising. But the wink she shot Joey told her Del was just screwing with the poor guy.

He roared, “I’m making broccoli.”

“What?” Del roared back. “I don’t think China heard you yelling!”

“Well, then.” Joey swallowed. “I’ll leave you two to your dinner discussion. Thanks again for inviting Brandon.”

Del turned to her and spoke in a calm voice. “He’s a great kid. He and Todd are pretty nice to Colin, which is cool considering they’re two years older. It was tough for Colin being on the third-grade soccer team. But he was running rings around the kids his own age, so they made an exception.” Del lowered her voice. “We try not to make too big a deal about it, but Colin is really good. And he’s now obsessed with the sport. Christ, he’s only seven, but he’s totally into soccer.” Del walked her to the door. “Swing by tomorrow at one to get him. That’s if he’s not mutated by all the vegetables he’ll be forced to eat here.” She grimaced. “Hell, he might call you tonight wanting to come home.”

Joey grinned as she stepped outside with Del. “I doubt that. He had so much fun last weekend at Todd’s sleepover, he was dying to go out again. I suddenly feel guilty for having so much free time.”

Del chuckled. “Well, have fun tonight.” She gave Joey a—there was no other word for it—“shit-eating” grin. “I have it on good authority your time might not be as free as you think it is.”

“Huh?”

“Go on. You be good, but not too good. And if you need to let Lou down easily, don’t. He could use a kick in the head. Too good-looking and suave, you ask me,” she teased.

Joey didn’t know how she felt about Del knowing her personal business.

“Sorry. Nothing stays secret at the garage. We’re a small world filled with grease, swearing, and stinky men. But you know, I work with the absolute best mechanics in all of Seattle.” She nodded, sincere. “Seriously. Every one of them is a stand-up guy. Good with tools and taking care of people they care about. Lou especially. You can trust him.”

“Uh, okay.”

“You’re really red right now. Am I embarrassing you?” She shook her head. “Look, ignore me. I know nothing about you and Lou not dating or about you giving him a major brush-off that had him pissy for half the week. Not a thing.” She paused. “All kidding aside, try not to break the guy’s heart. He’s big and strong and acts all tough. But Lou’s a softie when it comes to the women in his life.”

“Right. Well. I guess I should go now.”

Del grabbed her by the arm, the woman’s hand a lot bigger than Joey’s. “Don’t tell him I told you he was pissy. But I thought you should know. The guy really likes you.” Del popped her in the arm, not hard, but it still stung. “And not to spread gossip or anything, but…”

The paused dragged on too long, and this time Joey tagged Del on her muscled arm. Geez. All the people at Webster’s had guns. “Well? Come on. But…?”

“But Lou has a lot of women wanting to get back with him. He’s a nice guy, he’s hot as hell, and apparently he’s a god in the sack…which you didn’t know because your eyes are really wide. Hmm. But your cheeks are back to being scarlet red. So maybe you do know something—”

A crash, dog barking, and boy laughter sounded through past the door.

“Damn it,” Mike yelled. “Jekyll, come back here with that!”

“Oh. I’d better go see what’s happening.” Del smiled. “Have fun tonight. And take a break for once. Your work ethic makes even me tired, and they all tell me I work too hard.”

“You do. But so do I. Probably why we’re friends.”

“That and you didn’t mind me being nuts for four months. So there’s that.” Del nodded. “Later, Joey. Give ’im hell.” She slammed back into the house yelling for Mike.

Joey left the loud McCauleys behind and drove to Lou’s, unsure, nervous, and excited all at once. Her palms were sweaty, her throat dry, and she wanted nothing more than to head home and soak in a hot bath until all her cares went away.

But memories of Lou holding her by the hair, of him bossing her around and her liking it, that thick rod in his pants all for her, had her speeding up instead. Time to see if she could get past her need to be a good girl and just live it up for once. And they didn’t have to have sex either.

She thought about that the entire way to his house.

The hell they didn’t.

* * *

Could the clock possibly move any slower? Maybe backward?

Lou paced in his living room, torn between adding more condoms to his back pocket and dumping them all together. He didn’t want Joey to feel pressured into anything, even if he did fear dying of the worst case of blue balls known to man. Every time he remembered handling her in that damn flower shop, his dick grew to monumental proportions. Shit, he’d even impressed himself with how big he’d gotten.

How big he was getting now. Totally not the way to settle his nervous woman into trusting him to take care of her. That he had an opportunity to be with her again, to show her they could work, was way too important. He didn’t know why Joey, of all the women he’d dated, got to him.

But he’d finally stopped questioning it. For five damn days he’d been wallowing in no man’s land, not sure what he’d done to send her crying—fucking crying—from his home. But when he’d made things right Wednesday night, it had been like winning the lottery. Better than the dream of beating Johnny at darts or of having an art show where all the people in his life who’d said he’d never amount to anything would bow down and kiss his ass.

That kind of awesome.

Any minute now, and she’d be in his home again. The same home he’d dusted, scrubbed, and mopped until he feared stripping the varnish off the floor. He never had that much mess to begin with, but he wanted the place to be nice for Joey.

He looked out his front window and saw headlights in the drive.

Finally.

He waited until she rang the doorbell, then gave himself a minute before answering. No need to pounce on the poor woman and scare her away.

When he finally answered the door, he saw her nerves and realized they both needed to just chill. So he stood back and waved for her to enter.

She did, and his entire world felt right, grounded in a way he only ever felt when creating something from that well deep within.

“Hi.” She turned to face him, standing with her hands in her coat pockets, her hair down, looking both guarded and so very young.

Something inside him softened. “Hi. Can I take your coat?”

She shrugged out of it, and he waited. He would have helped her out of it, but he didn’t want to act pushy or too demanding. Or did he now seem impolite? Fuck. He kept second-guessing his moves before he made them, and it left him looking like a dithering moron. Case in point, she was staring at him in question while he debated whether to help or not.

“Lou?”

He took her coat and hung it in the closet, then made a beeline for the kitchen. “I need a beer. You want anything to drink?”

“Um, I’ll have a beer too. It’s that kind of night.”

“Tell me about it.” He fetched them both something to drink, then stood in the kitchen with her, leaning back against the counter, doing his best to be casual. “So tell me.”

“Yes?”

Was she as desperate to fill the sudden silence as he was? Because without something to distract him, he could think of nothing but that need for her that never went away when she stood near. “If you weren’t here with me, what would you be doing tonight?”

She took a dainty sip of beer, and he worked not to smile. “Hmm. I think I might have gone out with my friend Becky. She’s always on me to socialize, but I’m so busy, I never do.”

He nodded. “The guys and I—my friends at Webster’s—we used to go out a lot more before they all started hooking up with girlfriends. Ray’s, a bar we hang at now and then, is usually how I spend my free time. That’s if I want the noise and people. I like being by myself though.”

“I do too. But for that, I’m called antisocial.”

He knew how that went. “I hear that too. My mom, aunts, and sisters are on my case to find a nice girl and settle down. But I like my life the way it is. I’m independent, do what I want to do, and I’m not hurting anyone’s feelings because I spend too much time drawing in my ‘stupid sketchbook.’”

She studied him. “Did someone once accuse you of that? Of spending too much time drawing?”

“An ex of mine.”

“Ex for a reason.” She shook her head. “It’s one thing if you’re hitting the bars all the time or hanging with other girls, but drawing too much? That’s a new one.”

He grinned and drank, then put his beer down and crossed his arms. He liked the way she followed his movements, her gaze constantly darting to his biceps. He’d worn a plain blue T-shirt with jeans tonight. Nothing too dressy or too grungy. He liked the soft cotton of the shirt against his skin. And in a mood to indulge his senses, he’d worn his favorite tee.

“You have a tattoo. I kind of noticed before.”

He followed her gaze to see his shirt had ridden up on his arm, so he rolled it up even more to show her the vines and thorns inked around his upper arm. “Yeah. Around my biceps and across my chest. Nothing too much, but I like the ink. It’s tough though, because I’m picky about art, and especially what goes on my body.”

“Oh. I hadn’t thought about that. You could probably draw your own tattoos better than anyone else, huh?”

“I think so, but I’m biased.” He made a decision he’d been toying with. His art was very personal to him. “Would you like to see my sketchbook?”

“Yes,” she said right away, so he knew she’d been wondering.

“Hold on.” He left and returned with his current book, having torn out the drawings of her. She might get creeped out by his many renditions of her profile, her face, her smokin’-hot body. Covered by clothing, but still.

He gestured her to the kitchen table, and they sat close so they could see his sketches. He let her page through them, commenting when she lingered so she’d know his process.

Most of the sketches were of cars, monsters, fantastical creatures, ideas for new custom jobs. But the occasional sketch of his friends or interesting characters he’d seen that wouldn’t leave him until he put them to paper showed up as well.

She blinked. “Oh wow. That’s Del. And another of the men at the garage. I remember him arguing with Del a few times. Brave guy.”

Brave indeed. “That would be Foley.”

“They look so real.”

“Well, they are.”

“Yes, but I mean, it almost looks like you took a photograph and blurred it a bit or something.” She gaped at him. “Lou, you’re an artist.”

He frowned. “I told you that.”

“No, I mean, you’re an amazing artist. You do a lot more than just work on cars.”

“Never thought I’d said I just work on cars.” Not quite like that, at any rate.

“This is totally not coming out right.” She blushed. “I thought…I don’t know what I thought. I mean, I saw the snake on your car, and I had the impression you only did that kind of thing. Like, manly artwork on hot rods. And then you also work at Webster’s changing oil and stuff.”

“Changing oil?” He hoped his expression wasn’t as pained as he felt. Seriously? Changing oil? Did the woman not understand what went into dealing with a blown motor or replacing a transmission? And don’t get him started on repairing a head gasket. That was a whole different kind of art, making things run.

“I’m saying this wrong.” She groaned. “I’m trying to tell you that I’m in awe of what you do.”

“Oh. Well then.” He winked at her, and it was then he realized how very close they sat. Their heads nearly touching.

She blew out a breath, and it washed over his lips.

He sat back and worked on maintaining an appearance of calm while his heart threatened to pound through his chest. “Yeah, so. Um. How about we watch a movie or something? Would that be okay?”

“No gin rummy?” Her eyes twinkled.

He did his best not to sigh like a lovesick fool. No, lust-sick. Just a bad case of infatuation with the previously unattainable flower chick. That’s all. Unfortunately, he knew it was so much more.

“Hey, what’s this?” she asked, finding a portrait he’d done of her that he’d apparently missed, mashed between the back cover and the last few empty pages. He’d done it by memory and had given the project a soft, loving feel. Her eyes, tilted in laughter, her lips, full, quirked in a mystery smile as she’d laughed at something only she knew. Laughing at him and his pathetic crush, maybe.

Yep, he knew it was much more than infatuation.

And now, she did too.