by Joleen James
Clea's stomach turned. "Is this about what I want, or about what you want, Mom? Because if you knew anything about me, you'd know that I don't care about running with the rich and the beautiful. That's your dream, not mine. I care about John, and what's best for him."
"Robert is best for John," her mother interrupted.
"Is he? Is he better than John's real father?" Clea crossed her arms over her chest, hugging herself. "You weren't there tonight when I had to explain to John why everyone is against his father. John might be angry with Nick, but he loves him. Can't you see that?"
"No. John's a little boy. He doesn't know what's best for him." Vivian's eyes blazed. "Nick Lombard will never amount to anything. He'll always be poor, always be a loser."
"How do you know? No one has given Nick a chance before. He's smart. He's determined. He's even started his own car restoration business. Did you know he earned his AA in prison, as well as a stack of certifications in the automotive field?"
"From a mail-order university? Why, that means nothing."
"It means everything, Mom," Clea said, frustration eating at her. "Why can't you see that? Nick's a hard worker. He's ambitious, every bit as ambitious as Robert."
"He's done it again." Vivian frowned. "He's managed to convince you that he is the right man for you. I won't let you throw your life away on him. Think about Robert. Think about the Graceland Mitchell Internship. Are you ready to give up your dreams for a man who has brought you nothing but grief and heartache?"
At the mention of the internship Clea's heart skipped a beat. Would she give up the chance to study with Graceland Mitchell for Nick and John? She didn't know, but she did know one thing; even if she and Nick never got back together, she couldn't make a life with Robert, not when she could kiss Nick with such abandon. No matter the cost, she had to follow her heart. A strange freedom filled her. The time had come for her to make her own choices.
"I'm going to bed." Clea turned to leave.
"We're not done with this discussion, Clea Rose."
"We are for now." Clea went into the bathroom and closed the door. Tonight her life had taken a new twist. Tomorrow she would talk to Robert. She couldn't marry him. He didn't turn her inside out. She didn't crave the sight of him. Her skin didn't tingle when he touched her. The signs were all there; she'd just been too blind to see them.
She wasn't in love with Robert. She doubted she ever had been. To marry him now would be grossly unfair. He'd be trapped in a loveless marriage. She couldn't do that to him.
The thought of building a relationship with Nick terrified her. If she made the choice to pursue a relationship with him, she'd be working without a net. Her mother wouldn't support her decision. For the first time, Clea would be totally alone, personally and financially. Could she do it? Could she trust her instincts and let her heart lead her? The thought of making it on her own terrified her, but she'd never felt more in control. And she liked it.
* * *
"Hey, Nick." Billy walked into the garage through the open bay door.
"What's up?" Nick came around the Bel Air. It was Billy's day off, and Nick hadn't expected to see him at the garage. Right away he noticed his brother's frown. Something was wrong.
"I have bad news." Billy held an envelope in his hand.
"What kind of news?" A rock had landed in Nick's stomach.
"It's about the loan. This came from the bank." He passed Nick the envelope.
Nick's hopes and dreams crashed down around him, leaving behind a bitter disappointment. He'd wanted the loan to go through. Securing the warehouse would have allowed him to accelerate the business. "I don't need to open it. They said no."
Billy nodded. "They wanted a bigger down payment."
"I knew it." He thrust the envelope back at Billy. "Why did I let you talk me into it? I knew we didn't have enough cash between us."
"We'll find another way," Billy said. "This business was meant to be."
Nick went over to the pop machine, fed it some coins and hit the cola button. He grabbed his soda, twisted off the top and took a long drink.
"We'll try another bank," Billy said optimistically.
"Changing banks isn't going to help."
"I could sell my trailer," Billy offered. "That would get us some cash."
"No." Nick took another sip of his soda. "There has to be another way. I'm not giving up. I can't. Not now. I've made promises to my son. I want to build something for him he can be proud of."
A slow grin lit Billy's face. "That's great, Nick. Maybe we can sell off some of Mom's stuff."
Nick frowned. "Be realistic. Maude didn't own anything of value. Certainly nothing that can bring us the kind of cash we need."
"I guess not." Billy's smile faded. His shoulders slumped.
Nick finished off his soda, chucking the bottle into a nearby recycling bin. "I need to get back to work."
"I think I might have a solution to your problems," Mr. Mullin said.
Nick and Billy both turned to face their boss. Nick hadn't realized Mr. Mullin had overheard his conversation with Billy. The older man had been in his office most of the afternoon, glued to his computer.
"What kind of solution?" Nick asked, exchanging a glance with Billy.
"I've been watching you, Nick," Mr. Mullin said. "You are a fine mechanic. I think you probably know as much about cars as I do, maybe more. I've read your business plan. Your ideas are sound. I'm already seeing them at work." He nodded to the Bel Air. "You know I love this place, but I'm getting too damn old to run it. I want to retire. If you boys are interested, we may be able to work out a deal."
Nick couldn't believe what he was hearing. Mullin wanted a deal? No one had ever given him a break before. His first instinct told him not to trust this good fortune. Why would Mullin want to help him?
"A deal?" Billy grinned. "Of course we're interested. Right, Nick?"
"I don't know," he said, unable to keep the skepticism from his voice.
Mr. Mullin walked to him, placing a gnarled hand on Nick's shoulder. "Nick, I've known you since you were a boy. I gave you your first job, and I sure as hell never believed you killed the Bloomfield boy in cold blood. I never had sons of my own. You and Billy are the closest thing I've got to children. I'd like the garage to go to someone I like and respect. Why don't the three of us sit down tomorrow morning and talk about this?"
Sincerity shone in the old man's eyes. Did he really see Billy and Nick as sons? Until this moment Nick never realized how much he respected Mr. Mullin, how much the old man had done for him and Billy over the years. How could he have been so blind? Had there been other people in Port Bliss who had pulled for him, despite the evidence being stacked against him? He thought of Mitzi. She'd been on his side. And Sheriff Kincade, he'd been giving Nick advice his entire life. Damn. Why hadn't he seen it sooner? He'd spent so much time wallowing in self-pity he hadn't noticed that some of the people in the town had supported him.
"All right. Let's talk." Nick's excitement rose. He extended his hand, and Mr. Mullin shook it.
The old man smiled, his eyes crinkling in the corners. After he let go of Nick's hand, he turned to Billy, shaking his hand.
"We'll talk tomorrow," Mr. Mullin promised.
"You bet," Billy agreed.
Mr. Mullin chuckled as he went back into his office, closing the door behind him.
"Can you believe it?" Billy asked. "He wants to make a deal with us."
"If he's talking about selling us the place, we still have to come up with the cash," Nick reminded him, giving himself and Billy a reality check.
"Still." Billy looked beyond Nick to the open door of the garage. Nick followed his brother's stare, surprised to see John.
"Hey, John," Billy greeted. "What brings you here? You coming to visit Nick?"
"Sorta," John said.
Nick's heart froze. He couldn't forget the look on John's face yesterday when he'd said he hated them all. What had Clea said to John? How much of
Nick's twisted relationship with Boomer had been explained to him?
"Where's your mom?" Nick asked.
"She let me come alone." John hovered in the doorway, as if he were afraid to come in. "She said she'd be by at six to pick me up."
By sending John alone was Clea trying to avoid him? After last night, Nick wouldn't blame her. They'd both said and done things they shouldn't have.
"I'll leave you two alone then." Billy headed toward the door. "I've got plans to make. See ya, John." He touched John's shoulder as he passed the boy. "Talk to you later, Nick."
"I'll call you when I get home," Nick said, walking to meet his son. "I'm glad to see you, John. We have a lot of work to do today."
"On The Boss or the Bel Air?" John asked.
"I'm putting you to work on The Boss. I was about to apply the final coat of paint to the door. I need your help."
John had gone over to the bay where The Boss was parked. He ran a small hand over the side of the shiny yellow car.
"It's a smooth paint job," Nick said, coming to stand beside him. "The best I've seen."
"Yeah."
An idea flashed in Nick's mind. "You want to go for a ride?"
"Really?" John tilted his head to better see him.
"Sure." Instead of punishment, maybe what John needed was a little fun. "I'm off work. Let's go."
He opened the passenger door, and his son climbed in. Nick shut the door and told him to buckle up before rounding the car and sliding into the driver's seat. The smell of leather filled him making him remember his youth. With a twist of the key the engine roared to life and he backed out of the garage, his son beside him.
And inside Nick a foreign pride began to grow. Pride for his son, who'd kept his word to work off his debt, and pride for the life Nick now had, and dreams he hoped would come true.
Only one thing was missing as he pulled out of the garage.
Clea.
He wanted a life with her and John. He'd been too passive, letting her have all the power. The time had come to trust his instincts. As a teenager he'd courted Clea his way and won. He'd known then she was off limits, and he hadn't cared. He'd gone after her, using every trick he had. What was to stop him from doing the same thing now? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
* * *
Clea let herself into the apartment, glad to have some time to herself.
She'd been afraid John wouldn't want to go to the garage today after his outburst yesterday afternoon, but he'd come home from school today, had his snack, and then announced he was going to the garage. She'd offered to take him, but he'd wanted to go alone. He'd had an anger management session with the school counselor, Mrs. Wilson, today. Had the woman managed to help John? Clea had talked with the counselor afterward. Mrs. Wilson said things had gone well. John had talked about his anger toward both Nick and Robert, different kinds of anger. The counselor had worked with him on some solutions to defusing his emotions and on how to make better choices.
His progress pleased Clea, and she prayed he wouldn't backslide when she talked to him about breaking things off with Robert.
She'd been useless at The Coffee House today, unable to keep her mind on her work. All day long she'd done nothing but think about Robert, about ending their engagement. She'd called him first thing that morning, asking to see him, but he'd been busy. He'd promised to come by as soon as he was free. Waiting all day to see him had set her nerves on edge.
Robert wouldn't take the news well, and she dreaded telling him. The end of their engagement wasn't his fault, and she hoped she could make him understand that. She could see now her feelings for Nick had never died. She had no idea where they would go from here, but she couldn't marry Robert, no matter what she felt for Nick. She still intended to go to New York. A change of scenery would be good for her and for John. She didn't want to think about where that would leave her with Nick.
A knock sounded at the door.
Her stomach flipped over. Robert. She answered the door.
"Hello, darling." Robert embraced her. "What's so urgent I had to run right over?"
Clea pulled out of his arms. "Sit down. We need to talk."
"I don't like the sound of this. You're scaring me, Clea." His eyes held a wild, knowing look. She'd seen that same look in his eyes when they'd been teenagers, when she'd broken things off with him before.
"Sit down, please." She swept her hand toward the sofa.
"No." The word came out harsh.
Clea winced.
"I don't want to sit down." His chin came up. "Tell me what's going on."
A lump of tears formed in her throat. She didn't want to hurt him. "There's no good way to say this. I can't marry you. I'm so very sorry."
"No. Not again." He turned away from her and rammed his fingers through his hair. "That son of a bitch. Has he touched you?"
"Robert, no," she said sadly. "Let me explain."
"Don't bother. I've heard it all before." His hair stuck up. His eyes sparked with anger. "I'll kill him. This time I swear I'll kill him."
He started for the door. Clea grabbed his arm. "Stop. I'm the one you should be angry at. Me."
Robert pushed past her.
"Listen to me," she said. "I'm not ending things because Nick came back to town. I've thought about us a lot. I love you. You're a good man. You deserve someone who'll love you completely. That someone isn't me."
His face crumpled. Clea's chest tightened painfully.
"I love you enough for both of us, don't you see that?" He reached for her, his hands closing around her upper arms. "I'd do anything for you. Anything."
"I'm sorry, Robert." Never had she meant any words more. Tears filled her eyes, and she let them run unchecked down her cheeks.
"What am I supposed to do?" Robert asked, his fingers tightening on her arms. His features changed, contorted with anger.
"I don't know."
"I've resigned my job. We have money down for caterers, a florist, and a six-piece band."
"I'll take care of everything." She whispered the words, knowing they would anger him even more.
"I think I'm going to be sick." Robert thrust her away from him with enough force Clea stumbled back. "I knew he would get to you. Have you been sleeping with him?"
"No."
"But he's kissed you. I saw the grease on your face that day, and I knew he had put his hands on you. I knew then, but I didn't care. You belonged to me."
"Oh, Robert."
"Shut up." A savage light lit his eyes. He pressed his fingers to his temples. "I can't think. God, it's just like that night I saw you with him at Lookout Point."
In two strides he had her, his fingers holding her head prisoner. He took her mouth, forcing a kiss on her she didn't want. When she didn't respond, he let her go.
Clea touched her mouth, her fingers shaking.
"This isn't over." Robert flung the door open and strode out.
Quickly, Clea went to the door, closing, then locking it. She leaned against the wood, her tears coming hot and thick against her cheeks.
She deserved every bit of Robert's anger. She'd made him promises of love and commitment, and she'd broken them. For the first time she understood how Nick must have felt the day he'd sent her away, and a new compassion for him unfolded within her.
Clea pushed away from the door, wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her sweater. She needed to do something constructive, something to take her mind off the hurt she'd caused Robert. Taking her coat from the hook, she pulled it on. On the way out she grabbed her camera bag. She had no idea where she was going, only that she needed to forget.
Chapter Fifteen
It was Nick's lucky day.
Having his son in the car with him satisfied him in a way nothing else could. Nick turned the corner, going by The Coffee House. He hoped to coax Clea into going for a ride with them. To his delight, she stood on the sidewalk as if she waited for them.
"There's your mom," he said to John.
Nick pulled the Mustang over to the curb, and rolled down the passenger window.
"Hey, gorgeous, want to go for a ride?" he asked, smiling.
Clea walked to the curb, dipping her head to see into the car. "I thought you two were working."
Her eyes were red, puffy. Had she been crying? He glanced at John. Had he noticed Clea's eyes? He wanted to ask what was wrong, but held his tongue. Instead he said, "Come on. It's a beautiful day. The sun is out. Let's show our son what this car can do."
He could read the indecision in her eyes. Something was desperately wrong, and his gut told him it had to do with Robert.
"Do you want me to go?" she asked John.
"Sure." John shrugged, as if it didn't matter.
"Come on," Nick coaxed. "The engine's all warmed up."
His words brought a reluctant smile to her lips. "All right. Maybe taking a drive is just the thing I need, but first let me get a shot of the two of you in the car."
She removed her camera from the bag. Stepping back, she focused the lens. Clea snapped several pictures, each one from a slightly different angle. He loved watching her work, loved the way her forehead wrinkled as she concentrated on the shot.
"Okay. I'm done." She put the camera back in the bag.
Nick opened the door for her. "Hop in back, John." He helped Clea unlatch the seat. John climbed in back.
"I haven't been in The Boss since I was teenager," Clea said. "It still smells the same, like leather rubbed with coconut oil and grease."
"Some things never change," Nick said with a wink. "Buckle up, Princess."
The minute Clea put her seat belt on, Nick punched the gas, the tires screeching against the pavement.
"Nick, for heaven's sake," she cried in protest, but Nick could read the excitement on her face.
He pressed his foot to the accelerator and a straight shot of adrenaline went through him. The familiar feeling of being in his car with his best girl came rushing back.
"Slow down!" Clea said, the words ending in a squeal of delight.