“Tough, I would...” Kelly’s words trailed off, because she realized she was just about to do what she’d derided other people for doing. She had been going to tell him she’d give everything up, her job, her charities, the activity center that she’d just opened, give it all up and go with him to help him start his business over. That she’d do anything as long as it meant not losing him. Was she crazy? She knew people acted like this. They called it love, and they looked so happy together. Then twenty years down the road, heck, five years down the road, they decided they’d grown apart, or fallen out of love, or just didn’t have anything in common anymore, or the one she particularly hated, I never loved you in the first place. No. She wasn’t doing that, wasn’t going there.
She couldn’t move an hour away. Her job and her charities and the kids she helped were here. From the time she got up in the morning until she went to bed at night.
It would be worth it to give up even a little for Tough. But there she went, giving up everything she’d built for him.
She cleared her throat, which had somehow closed so tightly she strained to breathe. The crushing pain in her chest didn’t help either. “Tough, I would really like it if you would kiss me again before you go.”
The pain in his eyes flickered, and Kelly’s throat tightened even more.
His teeth flashed. He didn’t answer her. He didn’t need to. Her hands moved around his back as his broad shoulders lowered and his lips claimed hers again. The same full-on, wild shaking of her soul hit her again, and she ended up clinging to Tough as her whole body fought to get closer. His muscles bunched as though trying to pull back, but their lips clung, small kisses, then deep. Her world spun and tilted, until Tough jerked away, stumbling backward down her steps. He caught himself at the bottom, his hands on his knees, his head down.
She leaned back against her wall, her hand on the banister, trying to make her lungs function, to make her legs quit shaking. One hand touched her lips, which still tingled.
Neither of them said anything as the minutes ticked by. Finally, Tough straightened. His eyes were flat brown. Like brown crayon in a little child’s picture. His face looked ravaged, as though he’d just watched his best friend walk the gauntlet. He swallowed. “I love you, Kelly. It’s not gonna change.” He turned. The confident walk she’d always admired, gone. The broad shoulders slumped. The capable hands hanging limp at his side. They were pink and scabbed.
It was the hands that did it. She choked, shoving her fist in her mouth to keep from sobbing out loud, turning and fumbling for the doorknob, unable to see through the tears in her eyes. She had to get in the house before she lost it completely.
The door swung open, and she shot through, closing it behind her and slumping down against it, her butt landing on the cold tile floor. Tears flowed down her face, and she sobbed, deep sobs that came from the marrow of her bones.
In her logical mind, she could appreciate the irony that she hadn’t shed a single tear over someone she’d been thinking of marrying for years, but she couldn’t stop the loud, painful wailing over the tall, straight man who didn’t even live in a house.
Chapter 19
The next morning, Kelly woke late with swollen eyes made worse by the fact that it had been after five a.m. before she’d ever fallen asleep.
She called Tough first thing. Maybe it was wrong, but she’d give everything up for him. But his phone didn’t even ring. There was no voice mail. She tried several more times before she absolutely had to head out.
She barely made it to work on time and had trouble concentrating, despite the large workload and her normal love of her job, anxiously awaiting the moment when she could leave.
By the time she met Mrs. Fitzsimmons to shop for her dress, the swelling around her eyes had gone down, although the dark shadows remained.
“I didn’t think Preston upset you that much, honey,” Mrs. Fitzsimmons said as they walked into the dress shop together.
Kelly sighed. “He didn’t. I just have some other things on my mind.”
“Were you worried about the speech? I didn’t think it would be a problem.” Her brows furrowed. “I feel bad about asking last minute. But someone from one of the media outlets we own is going to make some kind of a big announcement. There’s going to be more people than we anticipated to begin with and also a big media presence. This is even better for you.” Her kind eyes searched Kelly’s face. “Is that okay?”
Kelly patted her hand. “That’s great. And you were right about the speech. I had it done early last evening, and I’m not nervous or upset about it. The more people who can hear about our charity work, the better. No. It’s nothing to do with you.”
Mrs. Fitzsimmons looked worried, and Kelly felt a little bad about not sharing something she normally would have, but how does one explain that one doesn’t believe in love but had just had her heart broken?
That’s really what it felt like. Her chest hurt. Actual pain. It also felt empty at the same time, if that were even possible. And with every breath she took, she wanted to run to Tough. He’d take her. He’d love her. He said so.
But so had so many countless couples who had gone on to brutally split their families in two, separating because they’d fallen out of love.
She couldn’t do it.
They found a perfect dress—deep cobalt blue, fitted to mid-thigh where it flared out and fell below her knees. It brought out her eyes and would look amazing with her string of pearls and dangly pearl earrings.
Mrs. Fitzsimmons had still not been convinced that she was okay by the time they parted with barely enough time for Kelly to get ready.
Barely. But she made it, pulling up to the valet parking with five minutes to spare.
She didn’t normally wear extremely high heels for her job, and she stumbled for a step as she gave her keys to the valet. Righting herself, she remembered the night before when her world tilted crazily, but Tough had been there to steady her. Trying to shake the oddly bereft feeling off, she tucked her clutch close and strode with as much confidence as she could project into the brightly lit and tastefully decorated Mansion Heights.
Chatting briefly with a few people who stopped her, she made her way to the table she’d sat at for years with Cassidy and Mrs. Fitzsimmons. Normally Harris skipped the gala. She wasn’t big on crowds, and although she helped with Helping Hearts, her own heart was with the library and her current project of raising funds for a children’s library at the hospital. Kelly was a little surprised to see her sitting beside Cassidy, chatting with her and Torque.
Mrs. Fitzsimmons hadn’t made it yet, but sometimes she was fashionably late.
Kelly didn’t wonder about it too much. She had to make it through the evening. That’s all. Maybe she would call in sick tomorrow. She never did, couldn’t remember the last time she’d missed work, but she was definitely heartsick. Something in her wanted to crawl into a hole and die. There was another part of her that wanted to drive out to the warehouse she shared with Tough—used to share with Tough—and see if he really did move out. All his stuff...was it really gone? She could hardly believe it.
Her eyes widened as the crowd parted and she caught a brief glimpse of someone who looked an awful lot like Tough near the stage. People milled around, and she couldn’t see anymore. She craned her neck, moving to the right. Her shoulder hit something hard, and she turned in time to see she’d maneuvered right into a waiter carrying a tray of champagne. It fell to the floor with a crash and shattering of glass.
“Oh, my goodness! I’m so sorry.” She fell to her knees and began picking up pieces of broken glass.
“No, miss. I’ve got it, miss. Oh, please let me, miss.” The waiter pushed her aside, and she stood, knowing her cheeks were bright red.
How stupid. Tough would not be here. He’d never been to one of these before. Ever. She obviously was completely crazy. And clumsy too.
Backing away, she put her head down, so she wouldn’t see any apparitions that loo
ked like Tough, and walked straight to her table. No more running into waiters, for goodness’ sake.
She didn’t get a chance to say anything to Harris because she realized as she arrived at the table that Bonita was sitting by Mrs. Fitzsimmons’s empty chair. Kelly took a deep breath, slapped a smile on her face, and greeted the woman who had stolen her fiancé. Kelly shoved that thought aside. She couldn’t steal what Kelly had never had.
The food was probably delicious. Kelly didn’t know because she couldn’t taste the small amount she managed to force down her throat.
Hopefully she carried her end of the conversation around the table of eight. She wasn’t really present for it but hoped that habit kept her responses correct and timely.
Everything had to go smoothly now. She wouldn’t embarrass her friends or the mother who raised her. She would do her part to raise money for the children who needed it. Later, when she was home alone, she could fall apart. Right now, she had to hold it together.
There were awards, but Kelly couldn’t tell who won or what the awards were for. She clapped when everyone around her clapped. After the second award, she turned, watching with everyone else as the awardee walked up the steps. A man caught her eye. Dark hair, dark eyes. Brooding. Staring at her. He looked so much like Tough, it snapped her out of her daze. But then the people at the tables between them shifted, and she lost sight of him.
When the next awardee walked up, she was ready. Same man. Wearing a tux. The snowy white shirt contrasting with his dark tan. Her heart beat in her throat. She’d bet money it was Tough, except...what would he be doing here? She lost sight of him again.
“Hey, Kelly. They just announced you.” Cassidy reached over Torque and tapped Kelly’s shoulder.
Kelly blinked. Everyone was clapping, looking at her, and smiling. Her speech. She fumbled for her purse where her notes were, standing at the same time. Her purse slipped out of her frozen fingers, spilling onto the floor. Notecards fluttered all over the floor.
She swallowed and bent, grabbing her cards, which would be useless unless she took the time to reorder them. She didn’t.
Walking to the stairs, she ascended to the platform. Her knees shook, and she clasped her hands together so they wouldn’t do the same. Her stomach felt like she’d just ingested poison. Once she started speaking, she’d be fine. She always was.
But as she stood at the podium and opened her mouth to tell the joke she had planned as an icebreaker, her eyes drifted to the right side of the room where the man who looked like Tough had been sitting. He was still there. And he still looked exactly like Tough. She couldn’t help doing a double take. It was Tough. Most definitely. But what was he doing here? Why? How?
Her mouth opened, and words came out, but she had no idea of what she was saying, if it made sense, or even if it was in English. Not a clue. She rambled on for what felt like a very long time, until she finally finished and almost ran off the stage. Planning to go straight out the door, she stopped at the table to retrieve her purse.
Harris grabbed her arm. “No. You can’t leave. Sit. The same people who are sponsoring this gala own the syndicated rights to Dr. T’s column! They’re going to tell us who Dr. T is!”
Huh? Kelly looked at Harris who was beet red and bouncing in her seat but holding so tightly to Kelly’s arm that she couldn’t pull away without causing a scene.
She dropped down in her chair, setting her clutch on the table, hoping it didn’t take long. She could hardly wait to get home and hide under her covers. Forget calling in sick tomorrow. She was taking the rest of the week off.
Determined to suffer through, she tried to turn the corners of her mouth up as she looked toward the stage.
Tough stood at the podium. People were clapping. Even with his tan, she could tell his face was flushed. Sweat shone on his forehead. He used one hand to pull at the black tie around his neck. The cords in his neck popped out, dark against the white of his shirt. He looked just as amazing in this tux as he had in the one at Cassidy’s wedding.
Kelly realized the video cameras at the bottom of the stage were news crews. And a lot of them. They must have moved in as she was stumbling to her seat. Bright lights shone on the stage as the audience seemed to hold its breath in anticipation. What was going on? Was Tough announcing Dr. T? But why? Because Dr. T’s column had started out as a mechanic’s column? Nothing else made sense.
TOUGH STOOD AT THE podium. The audience had been quiet for a while. But his tongue hung in his mouth. He’d spent so much of the last month or so working hard to get it to move, for Kelly’s sake. Heck, no. Who was he kidding? For his sake. So he could talk to her. He’d forced that little member to move to his command, and he’d held actual conversations with the most wonderful person he’d ever known. Right up through last night.
Fire exploded in his stomach at the thought of kissing Kelly. It had been so far beyond anything he’d ever experienced. He’d wanted to stay, to just hold her and kiss her all night. That same fire, though, threatened to consume him because he hadn’t thought they could be together. He’d lost everything.
Maybe he could have found a place to move his garage which was closer to Brickly Springs. But part of him, for self-preservation, had known that he needed to leave. Otherwise he’d spend the rest of his life trying to convince her to be with him, to love him back, despite the fact that he had nothing.
Ah, yeah. There was the problem. He knew he didn’t really deserve her love anyway. His dad had left, no love there. His mother had died. And it was so very easy to overlook the kid that never talked.
The silence had continued long enough to be awkward. The audience moved and rustled, getting restless.
Tough’s eyes, which had been staring at the back of the room, over everyone’s head, skimmed across the room until they met Kelly’s. He wasn’t going to give her the chance to ruin her life by being with him, but maybe, maybe if she were willing to take a chance on him, he wouldn’t say no.
His lip twitched. Her mouth smiled in return. The most beautiful thing he’d ever seen was Kelly smiling at him.
He opened his mouth. “Good evening, y’all.”
“Good evening,” everyone said back.
“I have an announcement.” No point in beating around the bush.
There was some tittering.
“You probably don’t know who I am.” Silence. He met Kelly’s eyes again. She knew him. Better than anyone. He pulled from her strength. “I’m a mechanic. I also do body work. I had a shop, Tough Bodywork, midtown, but I’ve just moved it about an hour away to Berryville.” He took a breath. His hands were still shaking so bad, he didn’t even bother trying to reach into his jacket and pull out the notecard that he’d scratched down some notes on. There wasn’t that much to say anyway, although his syndicated sponsors wanted him to talk about his history and how he got where he was.
The audience shifted. His knees shook. His gaze went back to Kelly, and he plunged in again. “Back when I first started out, I was trying to build clientele, and I came up with this idea to start an advice column for people who had questions about their cars. Made sense. I called it Tough Talk. It was moderately successful. But what I found was that men would ask me about their cars then ask me about their relationships too. Or maybe just complain about their relationships.”
The audience tittered, and he loosened up some. At least his legs didn’t feel like they were going to collapse. He set his feet and gripped the podium with both hands.
“I never had a relationship myself. The only girl I’d ever wanted turned me down the one time I got up the courage to ask her.” He paused and gave a wry grin while a few members of the audience chuckled. “I did a lot of watching, and I took a few stabs at answering the guys’ questions. To my shock, my suggestions seemed to work, because they would come back or write back thanking me.” He shrugged. The audience laughed.
“Somehow, over the years, the column got shortened to T, and someone started calling me Dr. T. I
never claimed to be a doctor, but it was kind of funny to me, because I am a car doctor, so I let it stick.”
He swallowed, wishing he had some water to wet his dry throat. He wasn’t used to talking this much, even without being in front of a crowd. But he needed to do this. “I never thought the column would see this much success. I know there are people who would say I’m doing harm, because I’m giving out advice and I don’t have a degree. Well, I say to those people, they’ve never hung out in a garage shop before. I see stuff every day.” He waved his hand. How to describe the pain that walked through his door every single day. Sure, he did oil changes, but people often showed up at his door when they’d just had something horrible—a car accident—happen to them.
He continued slowly. “People suffering, making mistakes. I see how they act when they’re angry, when they’re desperate. I’ve watched people handle their problems with grace and class, and I’ve watched people fall apart in front of me. I’ve been attacked. More than once. Maybe watching and listening, thinking and learning doesn’t make me a professional anything, but when I add a dose of everyday common sense and let the psychobabble out, people seem to listen, to respond, and I’ve seen them change their lives for the better.”
It was true. People responded to straight talk. Tough talk.
“I guess, now that you’ve seen me, you might think I shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t have a column, shouldn’t have the privilege of having people come to me for advice.” He snorted and gripped the podium tighter. “I don’t have all the answers. I have problems of my own that I can’t solve.” Man, he was really off script now. “I have someone sitting in here this evening, who deserves to feel hurt and betrayed because I hid something important from her.”
He looked directly at the news crews. “That’s the unveiling. Dr. T, mechanic advice columnist, is me, Tough Baxter.” He stared for a last few seconds before he rapped his knuckles on the podium, turned, and walked off the stage.
Tough Talk Page 18