by J. A. Coffey
“There’s a lot more to you than meets the eye.” He stepped closer. “You should see your face when you’re working—alone or with the kids. You could light up all of downtown.”
“You’re ridiculous,” she scoffed. But she liked the way he saw her differently than most people did. It was part of what drove her so fiercely to produce her sculptures—the need to be…seen. She guessed it wasn’t too different from his own desire.
“Penny for your thoughts.” Kane was watching her, his mossy eyes lit by the late afternoon sun.
“My thoughts are worth far more,” she joked half-heartedly. And she wasn’t exactly sure she wanted to share them with him. Now that wanted her in the show, there might be more scrutiny of their relationship. Hopefully his volunteering at the community center wouldn’t already be considered favoritism. She wasn’t going to give up her dreams for a potential love affair, not again.
She wasn’t very experienced with relationships. One high school sweetheart, a couple of dates when she was first trying to break into the art world, and then Rick, the awful junior executive who’d worked for a shipping company, and who’d promised to help her launch her career. Their relationship hadn’t lasted very long.
She’d been twenty-one and barely drinking age, when Rick had discovered her artistic side. He’d wined and dined her, impressed her with his connections, and praised her rough and gritty side. Then he’d sent her his first car—an old Mustang convertible—and begged her to make him a masterpiece he could show off to all his CrossFit buddies.
They’d agreed on a price for her to create a sculpture for him using the car parts, and he’d set up a huge, high-brow party at a bar on Bainbridge Island to show it off. He’d been, or pretended to be, her biggest fan as well as her lover. But a few days before the unveiling, he’d backed out of paying her, claiming that his stocks were down.
And she’d…well, she’d let her temper get the better of her. She’d stayed up half the night reassembling the nearly-completed sculpture into something more suitable for his personality. Something that made all his coworkers choke on their craft beers at the unveiling.
She’d immortalized him in a six-foot penis made of his precious Mustang parts.
The aftermath had been awful. Her dad took a final turn for the worse, and she’d been stuck with the weeks of work without pay. Since it was Rick’s car, albeit in penis form, he’d sent the sculpture to be crushed at a local junkyard, and she’d crushed their relationship shortly after.
Ever since, she’d been blacklisted by an arts community that she’d barely broken into. Rick’s petty influence saw to that. No one in Seattle appreciated giant man-parts made of Mustang. Rick had ensured she never had her own show, never saw her work admired or even publicly displayed—not even the good, wholesome stuff she’d been doing now for the past few years.
Fred thought she’d latched onto storybook characters out of some misguided memory of her mom, and maybe he was right. Her sculptures reminded her of when life was simpler. When things were good. When she’d been safe and loved.
“Looks like we’re finished here.” Kane’s voice startled her. “Want to go grab a bite or something?”
It was past four. If she put in some extra time on his fender, he could have the car back this very evening. Maybe then his dad would see how incredible Kane was. He was holding up his end of the bargain and she should do the same. “Can’t. Work calls.”
He frowned. “More work?” He glanced around.
Anna hefted her knapsack onto her shoulder. “My time is pretty limited.”
“A girl’s gotta eat, Anna.” He followed her out to the parking lot.
“I need to put in a final pass buffing your fender.”
“The car’s ready?” He seemed surprised, but not as excited as she’d expected.
“It could be, in an hour or so. You can have it back tonight.” She bit her lip. “Then all your problems will be over.” And hers might just begin.
“That sounds great.” After tonight, they could part ways. She'd been trying to convince herself all day -- hell, all week -- that a romance with Kane was out of the question, but one look at him and her heart said he was just the kind of man who could teach her a thing or two.
One sweet summer romance.
With Kane Maverick.
Did she dare?
“I could help buff or something?” he suggested.
“No, thanks. I can handle it.”
He rested a hand on the top of her sedan. “A quick bite, then. We could grab some subs on the way to the garage.” He paused. “C’mon, Anna. I’m asking you to have dinner with me.”
“Dinner? With you? Like a date?” Her words were such an inadequate reply for what she was thinking, what she was feeling, standing so close to Kane that she could reach out and stroke a hand over his muscular chest. If she wanted to.
“Like a date,” he agreed. “You should celebrate getting in the show.” He tossed her a reckless grin that had her heart banging behind her ribs like a pinball machine.
“And what are you celebrating?”
His smile dissolved for a moment. “Being halfway through summer camp?”
“You’ve spent a whole week glued to my side. Aren’t you bored yet?” She tried to put him off. Besides, how could she ever tell him that her one serious relationship had been a disaster to her career, when he stood to influence her life as well?
“Nope.” He wasn’t swayed.
“Surely there’s someone from your own social circle just waiting for a phone call. Someone who doesn’t bang out dents in fenders or use blow torches?”
“Nuh-uh.” He crossed his arms.
“Someone who has perfect posture and who knows which fork was the salad fork, instead of fantasizing how she could weld the fork to her latest sculpture?” There, that should get remind him why they were so wrong for each other, even if she couldn’t convince her own heart.
His grin vanished, and his expression turned earnest.
“I want to have dinner with you, Anna.” Kane reached out and took her hand. “Even if it’s just a quick bite. I need to get back to the house tonight and finish up my selections before I present them to Pops. I have a couple more artists to contact and I still need to draw up a plan for the space. I promise, I won’t press you for more time than either of us can give.”
She leaned against the car, staring up at him, glad she wasn’t facing into the sun. “So, my spot in the show is a done deal? Like, it’s for sure?” If she was going to start dating him—if this was a real date—she had to make sure that whatever happened between them wouldn’t jeopardize her career.
“Sure as I can be. The jury shouldn’t have any problem with the quality of your work or your background.”
“My…background.” Suddenly she felt a stab of fear. “What does that have to do with anything? I thought it was just about the pieces I put in the portfolio.”
“Yeah, marketing has to approve the artists we rep for the show.” He glanced at her. “Hey, don’t look so worried. Your pieces are definitely family-friendly. It’s all good.”
All good? Everything was wrong. While Rick’s giant Mustang peen wasn’t plastered all over the internet, it could be there, lurking somewhere. An investigation into her background in Seattle’s art scene would be even more likely to reveal it. Should she fess up about the incident now before Kane found out some other way? Or did he already know?
“I’m not sure,” she said.
“C’mon, Anna. Let’s go get some chow.” He took her hand.
She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. A date with Kane Maverick? If he was just some guy, she’d love to. But he was a Maverick. The Maverick in charge of her acceptance into the summer show, a position that was too terrifyingly familiar to Rick’s power play that had put the brakes on her career a few years ago.
The question was, did she trust Kane?
She considered the ways this could go. If she told Kane about what sh
e’d done, it might ruin her chances of getting into the show.
But, it might ruin her chances with Kane, if he thought she was a crazy, vindictive nut.
What was the right decision?
Sure, they’d traded a few life tidbits over sandwiches. They’d connected. But it wasn’t like he was signing on for any long term commitments. It wasn’t like he cared.
And she had a few trust issues, especially where her art was concerned. She’d grown a lot since dumping her ex, but that didn’t mean she could handle falling for Kane Maverick.
“I’m asking you to dinner, not to solve world peace problems.” Kane joked. His thumb tapped on the top of her Chevelle.
One little dinner.
Couldn’t hurt, right?
She chose the most unromantic place she could think up. “There’s a decent place just up the block, I guess. Don’s Diner. Fifties theme and greasy, but filling. We could hit it after I finish your bumper.”
“Sounds perfect.” He stalked around to her passenger side of her Chevelle. “Nice ride, by the way.”
“Yeah, I restored it off the lot. Cheaper than a Camaro, and a better ride because it’s got a full frame.”
“I swear you know more about cars than anyone I know. A muscle car suits you,” he said, still tapping a finger along the hood. “You driving or should I?”
She panicked for a moment. She practically lived out of her Chevelle. It wasn’t filthy, but it was a jumbled mess of tools, water bottles she’d meant to drop by the recycling center, and sketchpads. A few cardboard boxes of spare parts cluttered the back seat, right beside her backpack with extra torch nozzles and her old welding goggles. Stuff that screamed auto-mechanic, not girlfriend material.
What would Kane think?
“Sure.” Driving meant she was in control of the situation.
She slid in the front seat, then affixed her seatbelt, trying to calm the flutters in her gut. Okay, this was no big deal. Just a little bite to eat after a hard day’s work. No reason for her to feel nervous or excited or anything. She leaned over to unlock his side. The door opened with a creak and he folded himself in half and climbed in.
Kane didn’t seem fazed by her mess or the minor cracks in her dashboard. He just slid his long legs into the passenger seat. His knees almost touched his chiseled chin. He reached between his powerful thighs to ease his seat back and smiled at her. “That’s better. Now I’m not kissing your windshield.”
Oh, she wanted him to be kissing something. Just not her car windshield.
Chapter Six
A few blocks later, Kane was settled on an old metal stool, watching her don a pair of clear plastic goggles. He’d spent the whole ride over to the garage trying to think up clever ways to get Anna to go out with him, and instead they were finishing work on his father’s car.
Tonight was the least romantic date he’d ever been on and it was all his fault.
He should’ve just fessed up to his father and risked losing out on the summer show.
But without him, Anna might not get a chance at being featured.
He felt completely torn. He wanted his father’s respect, but he wanted Anna’s too. He just hoped that after she finished the fender, Anna wouldn’t kick him out of her life as easily as she did her garage.
“Buffing compound.” She tied up her long hair in an elastic, then put on a pair of leather gloves. She slathered a reddish substance onto a cone-shaped ivory felt wheel the size of her fist attached to a rotary machine in the corner of the garage. “It’s called rouge. Can you hand me the fender?”
She pointed to where the aluminum chrome fender from the precious Dino lay atop a drop cloth. “Sure.”
He hefted the piece easily and helped her get it into position while she cranked up the motor.
“Just stand there and help me balance the back end so it doesn’t flop.”
“’Kay.” A pleasant whirring filled the garage as he watched her, marveling at how easily he fell into the routine of working alongside her. How she made him want to do so much more.
Like, teaching the kids. Or dreaming of cleaning up the community center. Stuff that made his heart swell—almost as much as being beside her.
Anna carefully buffed the remaining spots on the fender for the next half hour. He was amazed by how precisely she handled the parts and heavy equipment. The girl had some serious muscles, which made him wonder how well she’d handle his equipment if she ever gave him the chance. Being alone with her meant he was in a perpetual half-aroused state, which was ridiculous. Who got hard in a salvage garage?
Apparently he did. That’s who.
“Okay, I think that’s the last of it.” She cut the power to the rotary machine. The wheel spun to a stop as they carried the fender over to the Ferrari. When she finished reattaching the piece, she rolled her shoulders and gave it a final swipe with her rag.
“Done!” She beamed at him.
“It’s perfect.” Kane bent low to inspect her work. “You’d never know there was damage. Not a scratch.”
“Yeah, it really is a beauty.” Anna tossed her polishing cloth at him with a mischievous grin. He caught it before it popped him in the face.
“So are you.” He tossed the cloth back at her.
She’d saved him. Now he could face his father with the damage completely erased.
“Ha. You’re hilarious.” She caught it. The weight of her stare rested on him like a fifty-gallon barrel.
She avoided his compliment, though, and wiped a few imaginary specks off the car’s hood. The more time he spent with her, the more he wanted to be with her. She was completely unlike other women he’d dated. With them, he’d craved a fast interlude and a faster goodbye, and none had really protested. None had wanted more from him.
But it wasn’t like that with Anna. In the fluorescent lights of the garage, her eyes were almost the color of charcoal. He’d never get tired of trying to come up with an apt description of them.
“How are you still single?” He shook his head. “I don’t get it.”
“You and me, both.” She chuckled ruefully. “Introverted artist. Power tools. Not the sexiest combo. Why, you interested?”
“Maybe.” He laughed. “Have you always been a one-woman show?”
She sobered. “Not always. I’ve dated in the past.” Her tone sharpened, and he wasn’t sure if it was a memory of past boyfriends or something else. “Once my dad died, there just wasn’t time.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
“Was it a long illness?” He wished he’d known her back then.
“Half a year?” She shrugged. “Prostate cancer. I was twenty-one, so I immersed myself in my art to cope. Afterwards, I just buried myself in the garage and focused on keeping my head above the sea of hospital bills.”
No wonder she had so many defenses. She’d probably needed them to protect her tender heart. “I’m glad I was able to draw you out for a little fun.”
Suddenly, her gaze became disconcertingly direct. “Is that what I am, Kane? Just some…fun?” Her playful expression changed, like a welding mask slamming into place over her eyes.
“Anna, I…no,” he confessed.
“It’s fine if that’s all there is. I just want to be clear on where we stand.” There was no pouting, no posturing. No theatrics.
“If I’d only wanted a good time, I wouldn’t have lasted through a week of summer camp, and I wouldn’t be looking forward to another one. I have fun with the kids and I have fun with you.” She was definitely not a game-player. From the way his heart was pounding in his ears, he wasn’t either. Not any longer.
“You’re square with me, Kane. Our bargain is finished. You don’t have to do the second week. You can drive that Dino home tonight. Your father will never know.”
But he’d know. Right now that didn’t matter. Not the car, not his father, none of it. “This isn’t about our deal and you know it.”
She made a non-committal noi
se that said he still hadn’t convinced her he was genuine.
He’d be able to park the Dino in the garage tonight with no one the wiser. The thought nagged at his conscience a little. He wanted to tell his father how talented Anna really was. Hell, he wanted to tell the whole world how awesome she was.
“I know who made that happen, and I’m grateful.” She didn’t understand how hard it was for Kane to measure up in his father’s estimation. To impress him. Much as he hated to admit it, he wanted to show his father he was capable. To show the whole world he was worth more than a torn-off T-shirt and a few laughs.
“Thanks.” She toed a bit of dirty rags into the corner. “Ready for some food?” Her tone reminded him of someone offering a handshake.
He straightened. “I guess so.” But he didn’t feel much like eating.
“Cool. I’ll go wash up.”
Cool? She was cool, and he was over here practically on fire for her. Kane waited for her to scrub Lava soap into her rouge-stained fingers before they loaded themselves back into her Chevelle.
A few blocks over, Anna pulled into the parking lot of a noisy, rounded, glass and neon building with more multi-colored lights than a Christmas tree. The rotating sign out front screamed “Don’s Drive-In.”
The parking lot was packed. Not a spot to be found. One whole section of the cracked blacktop was sectioned off by two rows of serious motorcycles—all Harleys. Near the back was a news van emblazoned with a local Fox television channel.
“Must be some biker event.” Her brow furrowed. “I’ve never seen this place so crowded.”
His stomach twisted. “Yeah.”
“I don’t see anywhere to park, do you?”
“Nope.” Music blared from the half-opened double doors, as a camera man and a leather-clad dude spilled out. Kane felt a stab of worry. Not that he might be seen with Anna—but that she might give up and drive him back to his truck.
“Hmm, I’m not hungry enough to brave that.” She blew a strand of her hair out of her face.
Oh boy, here comes the let-down.