Dream Maker

by Kristen Ashley

  And Mom’s voice filled the air.

  “Answer me, Evan! Your brother fears for his life because you have shit for brains!”

  I stared at the phone.

  Mom kept going.

  “Genius my ass!” she shouted. “Dumb as a rock. Who cares how a radio works? You gotta keep a bag safe to keep your brother safe, you do everything you can to keep that bag safe!”

  “Listen to me,” Mag growled, and my eyes darted up to his face.

  Oh boy.

  He was using that tone he’d used with Lottie that morning.

  Except worse.

  Way worse.

  “Who’s this?” Mom demanded.

  “It doesn’t matter who this is. You can call this number again when you get the go-ahead from Evan to call this number. And if you don’t ever get that go-ahead, you never call this number.”

  “Fuck you, let me talk to my daughter.”

  Mag’s gaze shot to me.

  Yep, I said with my eyes. That’s my mom.

  “This is her mother?” Mag asked to confirm.

  “I said, let me talk to my daughter,” she ordered.

  “Toothpaste,” Mag muttered, staring at me.

  Damn.

  Somehow, I’d given it all away over a tube of toothpaste.

  “Evan had her apartment tossed last night. There’s little that can be salvaged. She lost almost everything,” Mag told Mom.

  “Well, my son might lose his life!” Mom snapped.

  “It’s clear it’d be smooth sailing for you if you were given Sophie’s choice,” Mag remarked.

  “What?” Mom asked.

  “We’re done,” Mag stated.

  Then he made that so by disconnecting and went on to move his finger on my screen to do other things.

  He then extended my phone to me and said, “She’s blocked. She’s your mom, that’s not my call. I’m just askin’ you to give yourself a break from that at least until we know if you’ve got more than a couple pairs of vintage jeans to your name.”

  I pressed my lips together and ignored the fact that Tex and Duke had both sidled close during that spectacle.

  “Did she know before I told her what happened to your place?” Mag asked.

  I shook my head.

  “You didn’t call her?”

  I shook my head.

  “Your father?”

  I shook my head.

  He rolled his head around on his shoulders as he drew breath into his nose.

  “Mag—”

  “Baby,” he whispered, “I can’t. I can’t right now. Mac called. Said they dropped some of your stuff at my pad. I wanna get you home. I wanna get you fed. I wanna get you settled. I do not want to listen to you make excuses for your mother.”

  I pressed my lips together again.

  “You know that shit’s not right, yeah?” he asked.

  I said nothing.

  “You do know, you just got nothin’ else,” he said softly.

  “Maybe I should go home or get a hotel room tonight or something,” I suggested.

  Without hesitation, he responded, “I can’t do that either, Evie. Really. So please don’t make me.”

  When I made no reply, he reached a hand to me.

  I didn’t want to take it.

  I wanted to run far away from him and his people and that look on his face that he got after just one very short dose of my mother.

  I needed to figure myself out.

  I needed to sort out my life.

  What I didn’t need to do was drag a nice guy like Daniel Magnusson along for that ride.

  My body had other thoughts.

  In other words, I reached for his hand.

  He pulled me out of the couch, murmuring, “Grab your book and your bag, honey.”

  I grabbed my book and my bag as he scooped up the handles of all my other bags.

  I then chanced glances at Duke and Tex, both of whom had stony faces and gazes locked on Mag.

  I figured this was so I wouldn’t see the pity if they looked at me.

  “Thanks for everything, guys,” I said.

  Duke rearranged his expression when his attention came to me.

  Tex did not and his look made me glad he didn’t know where my mother lived.

  “See you tomorrow, darlin’,” Duke bid as Mag led me to the door.

  “I have to work tomorrow,” I told him.

  “Then see you soon,” he replied.

  He would not.

  I nodded.

  Mag pulled me out the door, to his truck, opened my side for me, stowed my stuff in the backseat and waited until I got in before he closed it.

  He was in and we were on our way by the time I spoke.

  “Danny, maybe we should talk.”

  “I did tours. Over there. Afghanistan. Iraq. Syria.”

  I decided maybe we shouldn’t talk but I did not share that verbally.

  “You would not…it’s impossible to describe…”

  He cleared his throat.

  I stared at his profile.

  “In many cases, women over there are not treated very well.”

  Oh man.

  “Danny, honey.”

  He glanced at me then back at the road.

  “Let me do this.”

  I closed my eyes and faced forward.

  “Please, Evan. Let me take care of you however that comes about.”

  I opened my eyes.

  But I didn’t say anything.

  He did.

  “Please.”

  “Okay,” I whispered.

  He reached out, grabbed my hand, held it and drove one-handed.

  We were nearing his place when he said quietly, “No matter the circumstances, a mother does not talk to her daughter that way.”

  “I know,” I said quietly back.

  He squeezed my hand and murmured, “Good.”

  And then he finished driving us to his place.

  Chapter Ten

  Pushover

  Mag

  Why would we do this?” she asked.

  “Just get ready,” he ordered.

  “Danny—”

  “I’m cuttin’, honey, and if I beat you, you owe me the movie of my choice and I’m feelin’ Anaconda.”

  She looked down at the can of beer she had on its side on the counter of the island with one of his penknives pointed to it, close to the base, as he’d instructed.

  “On the count of three,” he warned.

  She looked to him and opened her mouth.

  “One,” he began.

  “This is stupid,” she said.

  “Two,” he went on.

  “I’ve never seen Anaconda. Maybe I’ll like it.”

  “Three,” he finished.

  He shoved his knife in his can and heard her do the same.

  Then he circled it to make the hole bigger, pulled it out, put the opening to his mouth, popped the top and beer gushed into his mouth.

  He was busy chugging, but he still managed to look around his can to see she had hers to her mouth and beer was running down her cheeks and chin, soaking the collar of her tee that read, “THAT’S WHAT.” —SHE.

  Seriously kickass shirt.

  Seriously cute Evie.

  He finished and had crushed his can in his hand when she started sputtering, careened to his sink, dropped her can and spit beer into it.

  “You suck,” he told her, smiling. “And it’s Anaconda.”

  She looked to him, rolled her eyes and snatched up a dishtowel to wipe her face.

  Still wiping, she asked, “Is this your attempt to make my t-shirt wet?”

  He tossed his can in the recycling as he walked to her, slung an arm around her shoulders and curled her to his front.

  “Dual-purpose time-saver for the consummate frat boy. If you can get ’em drunk at the same time you get ’em wet, you’re golden.”

  He couldn’t know with Evie if that’d piss her right off or if she’d take it in the spirit he
intended.

  He was pleased as fuck she took it in the spirit he intended and busted out laughing.

  When she did, he grinned down at her and slid his other arm around her.

  Evan Gardiner laughing in his arms when all he’d seen from her that day was turned on, confused, lost and looking like she was about to cry.

  The turned-on bit was good.

  The rest sucked.

  This was much better.

  She rested both hands holding the dishtowel on his chest and smiled up at him.

  Then she informed him, “I hate beer.”

  That was when Mag busted out laughing.

  When he was done, she was still smiling, and Christ.

  Christ.

  She was pretty.

  Suddenly, he heard her mother’s voice, the words she said coming at Evie through her phone, and he felt a burn hit his gut.

  “And since I didn’t totally officially get to make you breakfast, I’ll whip up something for dinner,” she said.

  “I thought we’d Postmate it. Maybe Chinese.”

  Her face screwed up. “You keep trying to intervene, which is giving me the sense you don’t trust my cooking.”

  “I don’t know. Are you gonna force me to eat kale and quinoa?”

  “Since I only have what’s in your house to work with, and that’s not in your house, no. And since I hate kale, no times two. But fair warning, I dig quinoa.”

  Fair warning.

  Giving the impression she’d be cooking for him again.

  That was not skittish Evie.

  That was an Evie he could get onboard with.

  He gave her a squeeze before he let her go, saying, “Have at it.”

  She started moving around his kitchen as he turned his back to the counter of the island, put the heels of his palms to it, and hefted his ass up on it to watch her.

  “Do you have a taste for anything?” she asked.

  “Rib eye and loaded baked potato.”

  Slowly, she turned to him.

  “Though I don’t have either of those on hand for you to cook,” he told her.

  She did another eye roll with a headshake, but one side of her lips quirked up.

  She rummaged in his fridge and came out of it with her arms full of cheese and meat.

  “Bacon cheeseburgers?” she asked.

  I’m gonna marry this girl, he thought.

  He felt that unexpected, never-had-before thought in his gut too.

  It was warm, not hot, like a slug of Fireball.

  His favorite shot.

  “Danny?” she called.

  His voice was gruff when he said, “Sounds awesome.”

  At his tone, her head did a little tick, meaning her hair did a little swish and…

  Yeah.

  The thought did not suck that he’d sit his ass on his counter and watch this girl make their dinner night after night for years.

  “So, that kiss this morning,” he said and the packet of bacon, sleeve of American cheese slices and carton of ground beef hit the deck. He grinned slow at her and murmured, “Baby.”

  This he did before he hopped off the counter to help her pick it up.

  “I got it,” she said.

  So they wouldn’t collide like she for sure would make them collide, he caught her hand and held it. “I’m going in. You stand still.”

  Pink hit her cheeks and he wanted to enjoy that, but for her sake, instead, he crouched and got their dinner from the floor.

  He put it on the counter by the stove then hefted his ass onto it, so he’d be close while she worked.

  She proved she was at one with this idea when she found a bowl and set it down beside his hip.

  “It was a great kiss, Evie,” he said to her bent head as she dumped hamburger in the bowl.

  “I’m surprised you don’t have a fat lip,” she said to the bowl.

  “I didn’t mean that one, but that one too.”

  Her head came up and her eyes caught his. “It wasn’t.”

  “It was.”

  “I’m a klutz. It’s embarrassing.”

  “It’s you. It’s cute.”

  She looked down to the bowl and reached for his salt and pepper.

  “Evie, I’m bein’ serious.”

  “You’re being nice. That’s you. You’re…nice.”

  He wasn’t sure any woman he’d ever known described him as nice.

  But he couldn’t say it sucked.

  “Evie—”

  Her head came up and she blurted, “I’m attracted to you. You…you’re attractive. Now, do you have Worcestershire sauce?”

  “No.”

  “Garlic powder?”

  “Maybe. Evie—”

  “I’m a mess,” she whispered.

  “So am I,” he whispered back. “Everyone’s a mess. Anyone who looks like they’ve got it together, they’re either putting on a show or you’re not looking close enough.”

  “How are you a mess? You’re…you’re…” She threw a hand up to him and then out to his pad. “Totally together.”

  Fuck.

  They were in fiftieth or sixtieth date territory.

  “I seem like I got it goin’ on because your life imploded. Trust me, I got my issues and I got my demons.”

  She fell silent and studied him.

  Then she spoke.

  “Should we just have dinner and watch a movie?”

  He’d give her that play, and it wasn’t purely altruistic reasons why he would.

  She didn’t need to know his issues and definitely not his demons.

  Not now.

  He’d already let slip a nuance of what he’d seen during his tours.

  That was enough.

  “Honey, I’ll do whatever you wanna do to chill out,” he told her. “But first, I want it out there and I want it clear, I liked that kiss. Those kisses. Both of them, no matter what you think. I want more. I want to get to know you better. And I wanna look out for you while you’re going through this rough patch. We can talk about all that when you’re ready. For now, I gotta understand what your day looks like tomorrow so I can have you covered.”

  She opened his cupboard that had his spices and was sorting through it as she answered, “I’m on for Computer Raiders from seven to one thirty. And then I’m at Smithie’s, have to be there by seven.”

  This was going to be a challenge as he had to work.

  “And I need my car for Computer Raiders,” she continued.

  “I can drop you off when I go to work.”

  She was shaking stuff into the meat, but her eyes came to him. “I do on-site visits.”

  Goddamn it.

  “Evan, it’s almost impossible for me to have a man on you for on-site visits.”

  “Danny, I can’t call off. I’m hourly and it goes without saying, I need the money.”

  Yeah.

  That went without saying.

  “Auggie has some time off,” he said. “I’ll see if he can shadow you. If he can’t, I’ll call in a favor from one of the Nightingale boys or Chaos crew.”

  “Maybe I’ll be okay,” she suggested.

  “Maybe you will. Though I’d prefer taking steps to omit the ‘maybe’ from that statement.”

  She looked away to dig her fingers in the meat and start smushing.

  It came quiet when she asked, “Do you think Mick’s gonna be okay?”

  He didn’t give one single fuck what Mick was.

  He did not say that.

  He said, “We’re pokin’ around this mess. We know the street name of the guy you met. I got make and model and license plate of his car and I got friends lookin’ into that. I haven’t been briefed. I had some roadwork to do for Hawk today and my priority is you. To end, I have no idea what’s happening, so I have no idea the level of threat your brother is facing.”

  She started forming hamburger patties.

  He watched her hands work and noted she was not stingy with the beef.

  Yeah.<
br />
  Totally marriage material.

  “Right now, he’s the safest place he can be, honey,” he assured her.

  “Mom sounded more…Mom than her regular,” she explained why she brought up her brother, then asked, “Can you get me a plate?”

  He twisted to open a cupboard and got her a plate.

  She set a formed patty on it.

  “He’s a favorite,” Mag said carefully.

  She dug up more meat.

  “Right,” he muttered. “Dinner and watch a movie.”

  Evan looked to him. “She’s a favorite.”

  “Sorry?”

  “Mom. Carol. She’s the most important person in her life. And it bums me out and makes me sound stupid, but honestly, it’s just in this very moment that I realized that. And it’s not, you know, the healthy kind of making yourself a priority to teach your children to look out for themselves. Their hopes and goals and health and happiness. Not to give too much to someone else so you lose sight of what you need to make yourself feel right. Feel whole. It’s all about Carol Bowers. Though, runner-up for Mom is Mick. Honestly, unless Sidney, my sister, is in her line of sight, I think she forgets Sid exists. And she only remembers me when she can bum a couple hundred dollars to replace it in their joint account when she gets a little overzealous shopping and she doesn’t want Rob to find out.”

  Mag didn’t trust himself to speak.

  She set another patty aside and moved around him to get to the sink to wash her hands.

  “It’s when you said that about Sophie’s choice,” she continued. “I thought about that and it’s true, kind of. Her first thought, how to get what Carol wants out of a situation. Then she’s all about Mick. Honest to God, if she was put in that heinous situation, she wouldn’t blink. As long as she was safe, she’d not hesitate to say ‘Mick.’”

  “Is this maybe why he’s such a fuckup?” Mag asked, trying to go as delicate as possible, but considering the subject, delicacy was virtually impossible.

  “I never went so far in my head to try to figure it out. But maybe. Mostly, he’s a lot like Dad, even though he’d be major ticked I said that. Life’s a party. Bills to pay?” she asked sarcastically, making her way back around him and bending to open his cupboard to grab a skillet. “What? And I need to make money to pay those bills? What? There are concerts to see and I have to be the guy who brings the best bottle of tequila to the party so everyone will think I’m hot shit and come to me to get a shot. The government is way too in our business. Drugs should be legal. Prostitution should be legal. A good time should be lawful to be had by all and damn the consequences faced by those subjugated to it or those on the periphery of it who want no part of it.”