by Lyssa Layne
His head shakes slightly. “I don’t think I was telling you that at all.”
“Well, maybe you should.” I adjust my seat for a better angle of his skin. “What was your reason?”
“A need to breathe.”
Lucas
It sounds stupid when I say it out loud now. It seemed like the end of the world back then. “You know my dad, the senator. Third generation politician. He’s represented the same party, Republican, his entire career, same as his father did before him. Suffice it to say, it’s been a given my whole life that I would grow up and run for some office or another like every other male born to this family.”
Soft gauze runs over my skin. “I take it becoming an elected official didn’t seem as obvious to you as it did to everyone else?”
I sigh. I can’t believe I’m sitting here spilling my guts to her about my petty teenage bullshit, but I’m not about to stop either. “That’s the thing, it might have been. No one ever gave me a chance to figure it out, and no one was about to give me that chance either. When I brought it up, both my parents flipped. According to them, choosing between Harvard and Yale was the only choice I needed to have access to, so I took school out of the equation completely. I joined the Army and made sure I volunteered for any gig that would take me as far away from here as possible.”
I can sense her smiling even though I can’t see her face. “Get plenty of fresh air while you were gone?”
“You could call it that.” I wish I could see her. See her expression. It’s killing me that I can’t even attempt to read her right now.
“What made you decide to come back? Ready to take on the family business now?”
I shake my head. “No. I mean, I’m pretty sure my parents are still holding out hope I’ll come to my senses. They’re still convinced joining the Army was all part of my grand plan to run for president someday, but that’s not why I came back. I came back because somewhere in all my efforts to make my own way, I lost track of where I was going. I need to start over, and I figure the best place to do that is where I started to begin with.” And her. I came back for her.
“I get that.”
“You do?”
“Yep. Wasn’t that long ago I was in the same position.” She stops what she’s doing for a moment and with the break comes a temporary relief from the burning in my skin. “When I left, it was for a lot of the same reasons. Not that my dad ever expected me to take over the family business, but between Marcus and his constant drama, and my dad getting sick, it seemed like everything was blocking me in, backing me against a wall I couldn’t climb or break through, you know? So, I took off, thinking I was following some magic yellow brick road that would lead me onward and upward, and help me make things better for my family in the process. Then shit fell apart anyway, and the magic road I thought I was on brought me right back here. But you already know all about that part.” She leans around me to face me, a quirky half-smile on her gorgeous lips. “What you don’t know is that sometimes coming home isn’t so much about finding your past as it is about having another go at making your future.”
“Are you happy with yours?” I want her to say yes. I want her to think staying here and opening this shop was the best thing she ever could have done. But I also want her to say no, because she doesn’t see me in it yet, and she needs to, because she’s all I see in mine.
“I’m fairly optimistic… most days. Having my brother back in town does worry me a little.” My face tightens and she adds, “But it’s nothing I can’t handle.” Then she swings back around to stab me with her needle again. In silence.
Liv works on my piece for nearly three hours before she decides it’s enough for today.
“Mouth’s up front,” she says, nodding toward the desk in the waiting area and Johnny Bravo. Mouth. Makes sense. “Stop by to see her on your way out and she’ll set you up for another appointment so we can get this finished.”
She presses down on the edges of the plastic wrap strapped across my skin once more before giving me the thumbs up to put my shirt back on.
“I’m guessing you have another client coming in?”
“Not for a couple hours.” She tosses her gloves into the trash.
“Perfect.”
She frowns. “Maybe you don’t understand what makes a business successful.”
I laugh. “Your business seems to be doing just fine, and, personally, I think it will help keep things that way if you let me take you out to lunch.”
Her brow arches exceptionally high. “How exactly will that help?”
“Well, for starters, you won’t pass out from low blood sugar.”
“Did you see how I take my coffee? Low blood sugar isn’t something I ever have to worry about.”
“Are you really going to be an ass about this?”
Finally, her face takes on an expression I haven’t managed to put there before this instant. Surrender.
“Fine. Let’s eat.”
It’s not the emphatic yes I was hoping for, but I’ll take it.
“What’s good around here?” I ask, following her down the narrow aisle between the stations back up toward the front door.
“The new Mexican joint up on tenth is pretty decent if you’re still craving guacamole,” Mouth yells out from behind the desk as we pass by. It’s almost scary how accurately they assign nicknames around here. Makes me wonder about Liv’s.
“We can swing into the Garlic for some Italian,” Liv says grimly, ignoring Mouth in such an obvious way it can hardly be considered ignoring anymore.
“Italian works.” And then we’re almost running out the door.
“You want to follow me there?” she asks, her keys already in hand.
“I kinda figured we could ride together,” I admit, somewhat confused.
“This isn’t a date, Lucas.”
“I’m pretty sure it is. I asked you to lunch. You said yes. Sounds like a date to me.”
“You don’t want to take me on a date.”
“I don’t think you get the point of asking someone out.”
“I’m older than you.”
“I remember. First time you sat in my mother’s kitchen, I was eleven. You were twenty. The age difference was pretty obvious.”
She sighs. “I’m raising a teenager.”
“Again, I’m aware.”
“I’m running a business.”
“Which I suggested you do. I dig that you used my name by the way.” I grin. I can do this all day.
“My brother and his bullshit. Not to mention your mother and the shit storm she’ll rain down on us if she ever found out.”
“Are all of these random statements meant to sway me in some way? Because they’re not going to. I’ve waited fourteen fucking years to be old enough to ask you out, Liv. This is happening. The sooner you get on board, the better.”
Her nostrils flare and her eyes narrow. She’s pissed. And hot as hell. At this rate I may decide to piss her off on the regular just to see her get like this.
“We can take your car. If your shoulder starts leaking, I don’t want it to happen on my seats.”
“You’re sweet, you know that?” I smirk. I’ve never seen anyone try to hate me and fail as much as she’s doing that exact thing right now.
“Fuck you.”
“On our first date? What kind of guy do you think I am?”
“Oh my Gawd,” she groans loudly as I open the door for her. “You’re going to make me crazy.”
“Really? You think you’re going to be able to blame me for that?” I laugh, getting into the driver’s seat beside her.
“I hate you.”
“You love me.”
“Nope. It’s not love. Definitely not love.” She shakes her head repeatedly, lips pressed firmly together.
“It’s okay. You’ll get there.” Then I turn the key and let the sound of my engine drown out her response.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Heartbreaker
I hate him. I hate him. A
nd I hate the way he makes me feel. I really, really hate him.
“Why?”
The sound of his voice startles me right from my hateful rampage. Now I hate him even more.
“Why what?”
“Why are you so against this?” He’s smiling. I hate his smile. It’s infuriating.
“I’m pretty sure I covered a long list of reasons before you forced me into your truck.”
He laughs. It’s even worse than his infuriating smile. “So, you’re against going on a date, period.”
“No!” Although, now that he mentions it, it has been a while. Why is that? Maybe I am against going on dates. I probably am. Yeah. Yeah, I’m against dating. “Yes. Yes, I’m against it.” There. Solid out.
“Fine. After lunch we’ll never go out on a date ever again.” He nods, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel along with the radio, as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. As if this is nothing. Means nothing. “We’ll just stay in.”
“You’re insane.”
“You’re difficult.”
“Says the toddler who is taking out an older woman just to piss off his parents and avoid doing what they want.” There. That was a good one.
His jaw tightens almost instantly. Suddenly I miss the smile that pisses me off so much.
“You really think that’s what I’m doing?”
I resort to flipping my phone case back and forth in an awkward attempt to seem nonchalant. “I was just kidding.” Sort of. I’m still trying to pinpoint his motivation for wanting to go out with me, unless it really is a matter of realizing some sort of childhood fantasy he’s had about me all these years. I guess weirder things have happened. Of course that leaves me to ponder my motivations for saying yes, and I’m not quite comfortable enough to do that yet.
“Look,” his tone is softer. Deeper. Good God, it’s so damn smooth I want to wrap myself up in it. Is that a thing? Can one do that with sound? “I get that this is freaking you out a bit, but for the sake of giving this a fair chance, could you just drop the comments about our ages…and my parents?”
A fair chance? There’s no way in hell I’m giving this one of those. “But…what else is there for us to talk about?”
He shakes his head at me, but his lips quirk upwards at the corners. He finds me amusing. I suppose that’s acceptable. “How about we talk about the shop. Or all the weird-ass nicknames you all have there.”
I shrug. “Honestly, I’m not even sure how it happened. Sketch and I got saddled with ours back in high school, but I think the girls figured we picked them up back in our interning days, like a rite of passage or something. When Mouth and Princess started with us they kept asking when they’d get their names. We thought they were joking at first. When we realized they weren’t, we decided to go with it. It’s become kind of our thing. Even if a girl winds up leaving, the name goes with her.”
He seems to be mulling this over as he pulls into the parking lot of the restaurant. “Mouth and Princess I get, and Sketch is obvious, but why do they call you Heartbreaker?”
I smirk. “Because Ball Buster doesn’t sound as pretty.” Then I reach for the handle and get out before he gets any noble ideas about getting the door for me.
Lucas
After we have the fastest lunch in the history of lunches, Liv wastes no time in running back out to the truck, where she rests her hand on the door, impatiently waiting for me to open it. In spite of her obvious desire to rush back to the shop and get our date over and done with, conversation is surprisingly good. Good enough to convince me that I have a fighting chance with her.
I don’t hold out hope for any sort of physical goodbye, and am only slightly offended when she gives me a backhanded wave as she walks away, never once looking back in my direction. It could have been worse. She could have given me the finger.
Without any real plans for the afternoon, I head home to jump in the shower and clean up my shoulder. Shortly after I get out, I can hear all three girls down the hall, all worked up over something I’m sure I’ll regret inquiring about.
“What the hell is going on in here?”
All three of them stop what they’re doing to gape back at me.
“Nothing. Why?” Hailey’s blasé expression is a stark contrast to the squeals I heard her produce not two seconds ago.
“Cut the bullshit. I could hear you all the way down the hall.”
Ash starts bouncing up and down without ever moving her feet from the floor. “Seven Straight is coming into town.”
“Who?”
An explosion of disbelieving moans erupts all around me.
“You don’t know who Sev Straight is?” If it wasn’t clear from her tone, the way Madi just rolled her eyes into her skull is a pretty clear indication of how stupid she thinks I am right now.
“Is this a person?” He’s a musician. I’m not as big an idiot as I sound. I just like fucking with them.
“Not a person. A god. A rock god to be more specific.” Hailey swoons and falls dramatically to her bed.
“He’s twenty-one and a ginger. God of anything may be a stretch.”
All three of them gasp in horror. I don’t know when I’ve had this much fun, other than a couple of hours ago when I was busy harassing Liv. That was a pretty damn good time as well.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Madi scoffs.
“He’s not twenty-one? Or a ginger?”
She scowls. “Well, obviously. I’m just saying, it’s entirely possible to be both and be a god. Provided you also have his voice and mad skills. And, for the record, he’s smoking hot.”
I grin. “Yeah. Because the red hair makes his head look like it’s on fire.”
“You’re an asshole.” Ash shoves me, then looks even more annoyed when I don’t move from the impact.
“Pushing and name calling? What would Mom say?”
“I don’t know. Let’s ask her.” She skips past me toward the door and stops. “While we’re at it, we should find out what she thinks of your new tattoo.”
I draw my lids in, squinting. How in the hell do these little rats know about that already?
“What new tattoo?”
“Cut the bullshit,” Hailey taunts, throwing my own words back at me. “We know you got one and we know it’s massive.”
“It’s not massive.”
“Heard it’ll take at least another session to finish. Maybe two.” Madi’s got her hands on her hips and a smug expression to match her tone.
“You talk to your aunt?” It seems both unlikely and also like it’s the only possible explanation.
“Tried to. She was busy working on your piece when I called. Mouth filled me in.”
“Fucking Mouth.” It’s like the name suits her for so many reasons.
“Her too, huh? And here I thought you were just after my aunt.” Madi’s grinning from ear to ear, far too amused by her own crass humor.
“Never mind me and your aunt,” I growl. I’m regretting this for so many more reasons now than I initially thought possible. “Do me a favor and keep the squealing down. It hurts my ears, and it’s annoying as fuck.”
“Touchy.” Hayes grins. She used to be my favorite. I don’t know what the hell happened to her. “Hey, know what would totally guarantee you a squeal free zone for the rest of the night?”
“What?”
“If you drove us over to Madi’s house.”
I frown. “You have a car. Drive yourself.”
Her lips scrunch to the left, put off by something I don’t yet know about. “My car’s at the shop. I hit some sort of a tree stump when I drove through the field behind campus today.”
“Why were you driving through a field in your Camaro?” That’s just stupid.
“The line out of the parking lot was ridiculous and I had to pee. The field seemed faster.” And she’s totally serious. There’s no point in arguing with her about her decision making abilities regarding the field and her low riding sports ca
r, nor the fact that it’s summer and there can’t possibly be enough nerds as excited about summer courses as she is to clog up the parking lot, so I turn toward Madi, the only other girl with a license here since Ash has a panic attack every time she even walks up to the doors of the DMV.
“Where’s your ride?”
She shrugs. “In my garage, I’m assuming. It doesn’t have an engine, so I can’t imagine it’s moved from the last time I saw it.”
Wait. What?!
“Come again?”
“Bonnie’s a bit of a fixer upper,” she explains, without really explaining shit.
“Liv told Madi she had a car budget of twenty-five hundred bucks. Said she could get whatever she wanted with the money, but that she was on her own on anything beyond that,” Ash starts to fill me in. “We found this really cool Bonnie and Clyde car on Craig’s List. Well, parts of it anyway.”
“It’s a 1931 Ford Roadster. It’s sexy as hell. Or, at least it will be when I’m done with it,” Madi boasts.
“You’re done with it? Like, you’re fixing it up yourself?” I’m not saying girls can’t work on cars. I’m just saying this particular girl standing in front of me, can’t work on cars. Or maybe she can and I’m a stereotyping sexist asshole after all.
“Yeah. Sketch is helping me.”
That I totally believe.
“And Princess.”
That not so much. At all.
“The point is,” Hailey returns to the conversation, “We need a ride.”
“Why do you guys even need to get over there? Liv is still working.” If she wasn’t we wouldn’t be having this argument. I’d be in the truck already waiting for them to catch up.
A simultaneous group eye roll ensues once more. I think they’ve practiced these. They’re really good at them.
“Because. Seven. Straight. Is. Coming. To. Town,” Ash says in slow motion. Because I’m an idiot who can’t keep up at regular conversation speed.
“I actually do remember fifteen minutes back, I just don’t see how it connects.”
“Sev is totally into tattoos,” Hayes picks up where Ash left off, “Gets a new one every time he comes here, always from one of the girls at Pink.”