by Shauna Allen
My heart bubbled up with newfound love as I thought about this child. It was like a gift, right when we needed it most.
I’d been struggling all these years to give my wife all she deserved. To be the man I promised her I’d be the day we said our wedding vows. I wasn’t there yet, but I was damn well trying.
I drove up to the garage and found everyone’s cars already there.
“Hey, bro,” Micah called to me as I strolled in, his head already under a hood.
“What’s up?”
“Not much.” He straightened, his nearly black eyes piercing. “How’re things with Delilah?”
I gave a one-shoulder shrug, my mind on the baby. “As good as they can be right now, I guess.”
“That’s cool, man.” He fiddled with the wrench in his hand.
I knew he’d about used up his dose of words for the day, so I sauntered off to my office to make sure I hadn’t missed a call from Mr. Henry, my potential buyer. Nope. No messages. I booted up my computer and scrolled through some email and billing information while I waited.
I checked my watch. He was late.
Trace popped his head in my office. “Mornin’.”
“Hey.”
“It’s that time again,” he said. “Ryder is selling cookie dough for school. You up for your usual?”
“Yeah, of course.” I pulled my checkbook out of a drawer. “What’s a tub of chocolate chip and a tub of Snickerdoodle going for these days?”
Trace laughed. “Twelve bucks a piece.”
I wrote out the check and scribbled my order down on Ryder’s sheet. “Thanks.”
Trace nodded and folded up the paper. “Thank you.” We both glanced into the shop at a loud clank. Trey was scrambling to pick up a tool or something he’d dropped. Trace turned to me again. “Trey working out okay?”
I studied the kid who appeared eager and enthusiastic about cars. I was well aware he’d come from the same shitty neighborhood that I did, but I refused to judge him for it. Nobody deserved to be held accountable for the stains on their lives that were out of their control. I’d seen him hanging out with a group of thugs one night outside the pool hall, but he didn’t seem to be causing any trouble so I never mentioned it. He reminded me a lot of myself at his age. A little lost and a lot hurt. I watched now as Trey slowed his pace as he passed my Spyder, his eyes eating it up. Yeah, I knew the feeling, kid.
I refocused on Trace. “Yeah. He’s doing great.”
“I’m glad.”
He sauntered away and I tried to focus on the crap on my desk, but it wasn’t working. Mr. Henry was my most serious looker to date. As much as I hated to part with the car, I wanted this sale really bad. With my blue ribbon from Austin, plus a kick ass car, I hoped I had enough to persuade him. If he’d just show.
Ten minutes later, as I stood at the bay doors texting Dee, a brand new red Porsche came rolling into the lot. I smiled. It had to be him.
I strode out to the parking lot just as a middle-aged guy in probably his late fifties, with silver hair and a ready smile slid out of the driver’s seat. I grinned and extended my hand as I got to him. “Blake Travers. You must be Mr. Henry.”
He grinned and we both glanced over as a very pretty younger woman slipped out of the passenger door. He focused back on me. “Call me Phil. And this is my lovely wife, Anna.”
“Nice to meet you both. I’m glad you’re here.”
We all met at the front of his car, its candy apple red paint job gleaming in the sunshine. “Sorry we’re a little late. I had a breakfast appointment that took a little longer than I anticipated.”
“No problem.”
He tucked his wife under his arm and they radiated love and happiness. Contentment. Like they belonged together and they knew it. Some strange emotion filled my chest that was a bit like jealousy. Dee and I used to have that.
“So,” Mr. Henry said. “How’s about you show me that beauty I’ve been drooling over on the Internet?”
I chuckled. She was definitely droolworthy. “Follow me.” I led the way into the back of the shop, where I already had the cover off and the car polished up. “Here she is.”
I glanced around the shop. Micah and Trace had made themselves scarce, and Trey was hanging in a corner, watching us at the car. I turned my attention back to Phil as he rounded the car slowly, methodically, as if taking in a piece of fine art. And, he was.
“She’s definitely a beaut,” he murmured, running his finger delicately along the hood.
I suppressed my confident smirk. I knew what I had done here was pretty damn special and I was proud. “Thanks.”
He circled the Spyder a few more times, taking in every little detail, as I’d expect a real enthusiast and collector to do. His wife made the appropriate murmurings, but otherwise, she kept to the side and watched him admire the car. I told him everything I’d done to get the car show-worthy and all the behind-the-scenes details I’d seen to.
“So, how much you asking for her again?” he asked.
I knew, and he knew, exactly what I was asking for it. Nobody looked at a car like this without knowing exactly what they were getting into . . . and having the cash. We talked figures, but he kept his poker face.
He hem-hawed a bit, keeping his gaze on the gleaming paint job. I shot a glance to Jesse, who’d just walked in with a bag of donuts in his hand. I tipped my chin up in a ‘what’s up’ and he did the same, his eyes shooting to Mr. Henry.
“Well,” Phil said, gaining my attention. “You’ve done an outstanding job. I don’t see any flaws. I’d love to have her. After I take her for a spin, that is.”
I grinned. “Of course. That’s great.”
I grabbed the keys and opened the driver’s door, dangling them in front of him. “She purrs like a kitten. You’re gonna love it.”
We slid into the ultra-soft leather and after examining a few more bits and pieces on the interior, he cranked her to a roaring start. God, I didn’t think I’d ever get tired of that sound.
He grinned over at me and I knew he was sold before we’d driven a foot.
I stifled my own smile, just waiting for the expression on his face when he felt her torque. I wasn’t disappointed. After a short run through the neighborhood and up on the highway to open her up, I was counting the cash in my head. Later, he was all business though, as we stood together next to the car. “Will you take a few grand less? Say ten?”
I blinked, keeping my face neutral. This Porsche was priced more than fairly. I pretended to think it over a second then shook my head slowly. “Sorry, Phil. I’ve put a lot of time and money into restoring this baby. I really don’t think I can take less.”
He stepped back and nodded his understanding.
I felt my heart drop. I was going to lose him.
“Well . . .” He met my gaze. Then he stuck out his hand. “I guess you’ve got yourself a deal.”
I let the grin break free that had been hovering for the last few minutes and accepted his handshake. “Awesome. Follow me and we can draw up some paperwork.”
We moved to my office and I glanced over into Trey’s frowning face as he studied us. He snapped to and moved off once he caught my eye.
But whatever had crawled up his butt didn’t matter. I was about to be a millionaire.
I couldn’t wait to tell Delilah. I would’ve loved to have stopped and got us a bottle of champagne, but I knew she couldn’t drink, so I bought us some sparkling cider instead. We had to celebrate.
I drove into the driveway and parked next to her ‘Vette. I grabbed the bottle of sparkly and jogged to the front door.
“Lucy!” I called when I entered. “I’m home!”
“Just a sec,” came her muffled reply from the back of the house.
I followed her voice, but she was locked up in the bathroom. “You all right in there, babe?”
“Yes.”
But she sounded frustrated. I frowned at the door.
Finally, it swung open and s
he presented me her back with her hair in her hand, scooped up away from her neck. “Can you please zip me up? I can’t get this freakin’ thing!”
“Sure.” I stepped closer and gripped the zipper of her black dress, catching a whiff of her sexy perfume that she only wore on special occasions. I took my time zipping her up just so I could get a deeper inhale. Pressing my nose to her nape, I scented her as the zipper reached the top. I cupped her shoulder and placed a soft kiss just behind her ear.
She shivered and let her hair fall to cascade down her back in loose waves. She spun slowly and I got my first look at her. My wife had always been the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. But tonight, she was exquisite.
She’d curled her naturally straight hair, did whatever girls do to have smoky eyes and red lips, and her dress hugged her curves in all the right places.
I wanted to say let’s skip dinner altogether and just feast on her.
But I’d promised her a date.
“You look stunning,” I whispered, allowing myself to caress her from bicep to wrist.
She brushed a self-conscious hand over her belly. “Thanks.” Stepping away, she broke the contact. “Do you need to shower or anything?”
I smiled, kinda loving that I was making her nervous. “Yeah. Then we’re going to toast with some bubbly, I’ve got news.” I ripped my shirt off and tossed it in the direction of the hamper.
She scowled when it hit the floor. “I can’t—”
“I know you can’t have alcohol, darlin’. That’s why we’re toasting with only the finest, Grade A sparkling cider.” I reached for the button on my jeans.
She blushed and spun away. How in the world had my own wife suddenly become shy about seeing me nude?
I showered quickly and dressed in the jeans I knew Delilah always liked on me and a black button-down. I shaved and splashed on a little of the cologne she’d gotten me for Christmas then found her in the kitchen.
She spun when she heard me, the bottle of cider behind her. “So, what are we celebrating?”
I studied her eyes. They were her bedroom eyes, but it was like she was trying to hide them from me. I wasn’t sure what to make of her mixed signals. Then I saw her pupils dilate, making her eyes giant rings of navy blue, and the pulse in her neck jumped. Her breath caught as I stalked closer, my gaze locked on hers.
When I was inches from her, I swept the hair off her shoulder, maintaining eye contact. “Us.”
“Us?” Her voice was a throaty whisper.
“Yeah.” I leaned in, and when her eyes drifted shut, I diverted and pressed an open-mouthed kiss just under her jaw, making her startle as her eyes flew open. I grinned. “And I sold the Spyder.”
She blinked as that registered. “You did?”
I nodded, my eyes on her lips. “Yes, I did.”
A genuine smile, the one I loved so much, broke out across her face, showcasing her tiny dimples. “That’s so great! I’m happy for you, hon . . . Blake.” Her gaze slipped down to my collar then back up as she caught her slip.
“Thank you.” I slipped my hands around her waist. “Honey.” I made sure to enunciate the word, loud and proud, just before I sunk into her ruby red lips.
She melted into me and I sucked her in like oxygen.
There was no way we were wrong together.
She was panting as she drew away and pressed her forehead into my chest. “God, Blake,” she whispered. Peering up into my face, her eyes captivated me. Then a tiny smile flirted with her lips. She reached up and swiped a thumb across my mouth, pulling it back to show me her red lipstick staining me.
I shrugged, making her giggle. Now, that was a sound I’d missed.
“Hungry?” I asked, basking in the fact she wasn’t acting hurt or upset with me tonight.
“Yes, I am. I didn’t eat much today, and you know how I get when I don’t eat. You’d better feed me.”
I patted my pocket to make sure I had my wallet then snagged my keys off the bar. “Baby, why aren’t you eating? You know you’re—”
“Eating for your future football team. Yeah, I know.” She smiled smugly and picked up her purse. Our eyes caught and held over our shared joke and her gaze grew serious. We’d always wanted a large family, and though I’d joked about a brood of boys, I’d secretly always kinda hoped for a girl who looked just like her mama.
I closed and locked the door behind us, putting my hand to the small of her back. After helping her into the Camaro, I rounded the hood, eyeing her. She really did look beautiful. When I told her so again, an adorable blush stained her cheeks. I kinda liked flirting with my wife. Now, why it seemed to affect her like it did when we first met, I had no idea.
I laid a hand on her thigh and caressed up to just past respectable. “My bride is hungry. I live to feed her.”
Delilah
My husband was on a roll tonight. First, he came home looking and smelling all delicious—yeah, I know I’m probably the only woman in the world who likes the scent of greasy cars . . . maybe it was just the way he wore it—then he flirted with me like he hadn’t in so long. Flat out panty-melting, he was. Too bad I had no intention of letting him anywhere near my panties. At least not until I sorted out my thoughts on the whole divorce issue. Something inside of me screamed this was all too good to be true, while another part of me whispered things could be different. Probably the part that had fallen in love with Blake ten years ago.
His thumb brushing my thigh as he drove seemed tame enough, but every third stroke or so, it would come dangerously close to my panty line.
I glanced over to his profile, but his jaw was set, his eyes glued to the road, as if the touch of his fingertips on the sensitive flesh of my inner thigh wasn’t affecting him.
I swallowed. It was definitely affecting me. I wiggled a little in my seat, not sure if I wanted to wiggle his fingers closer or further.
Finally, just as I was about to spontaneously combust, he turned into Mario’s parking lot. Something inside me melted. I became a gooey puddle of nostalgic love, right there in the front seat of his Camaro. We’d had our first real date here. We celebrated every milestone in our lives together here . . . our engagement, the opening of Jack ‘Em Up, each of our pregnancies. It had started as a little hole in the wall where he had memories with his mother, and morphed into our spot.
We hadn’t been here in ages.
I nearly choked on the emotion clogging my throat and had to look away from him as I blinked back tears. I should’ve known this was where he’d take me tonight.
He parked and I felt his gaze hot upon me. “Okay, baby?”
I nodded and reached for the handle.
“Don’t you move,” he warned, his voice low and gravelly.
I ripped my hand back and waited while he hopped out, rounding the hood, his eyes seeking mine through the windshield. He popped open my door and offered me his hand. I gripped it and stood, yearning with everything that was in me for the old us to somehow emerge from the fog that had been smothering us.
His chocolate gaze searched mine and I felt naked, exposed. He could always do this to me. But he didn’t push. Instead, he wrapped a possessive arm around my waist and led me inside.
Sofia, the owner and granddaughter of the original Mario, greeted us by name and Blake gave her a warm smile. He’d told me once she reminded him of his mother. Made me sad I’d never met her and that her death seemed to have ripped so much from Blake’s life. Plus, I had a feeling, if she were alive, she’d be able to help me when I couldn’t figure him out. His moody ways, his deep, inner pain. I’ve glimpsed pieces of it in our time together, but he’d never let me all the way in. It was as though he thought he was protecting me somehow. But didn’t he realize that as much as he would slay dragons for me—and had over the years—I would walk through that dragon’s fire for him? Or at least, I would’ve . . . before the need to save myself from our drowning marriage forced my hand.
He pulled out my chair and waited for me to sit.
We looked over our menus quietly, though I’m not sure why. We always got the same thing. Spaghetti and meatballs. I used to find that cute, but now it simply felt right. Like we were in sync again.
After we ordered and got our drinks from the new waitress with purple-streaked hair, he lifted his beer. “To a perfect day.”
I tipped my Sprite toward him, clinking bottle to glass. “To a perfect day.” I smiled after we sipped. “I thought we were toasting with your special bubbly at home?”
He set his beer down and I glanced at the forming condensation. “We are.”
I studied his face. Ten years seemed to have melted off of him, and I glimpsed the boy I fell in love with as he stared back. Selling the car must’ve taken such a load off him, and I knew he must be proud. I was proud of him. When I said so, his eyes darted away.
“Thanks, baby,” he said. “But I’m not just toasting the car. I’m so happy you’re home, that you’re giving us another chance, that you’re pregnant again.” His whole body oozed the sentiment like liquid gold. “You’ve made me happier than any car, Delilah. But I’m so glad the business is getting the boost and I have a start at giving you everything I promised.”
And there it was. I frowned. “Everything you promised?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
He lifted his beer for another drink, his face darkening. “When we got married.”
“Funny,” I said. “All I remember is you promising to love me ‘til death do us part. In sickness and health. Richer or poorer. I don’t recall—”
“You know what I mean, Dee. I swore to us both that I’d protect you. Provide for you. That I’d be more than . . .” His words trailed off like smoke though an inferno seemed to blaze through him.
Tears collected in my eyes and hovered on my lids. He hadn’t changed. Not really. Deep down, he’d always be the wounded boy, the son of drunk Dean Travers. A loser, unworthy of love. How could I compete with those scars? Those soul-crushing demons?
I couldn’t.
No matter how much we loved each other.
I let my gaze skitter away and plucked up a roll, popping it into my mouth to keep from spouting out all my fears. But the bread felt like a lead weight in my stomach.