The Bad Boy's Forever Girl

by Jessie Gussman

  Finally, he said, “Hi.”

  That was it. Like it was normal for him to be standing in her door. And normal for him to be talking to her. So he said something completely normal, of course.

  She wasn’t sure she could do normal. Not with Blade. But she’d try.

  “Hi.”

  Yeah, that came out awkwardly. Maybe it didn’t. She felt like it did. She felt itchy and restless and awkward. What did she do with her hands, what about the bulletins? What did she do with her eyes—they wanted to roam over his shoulders, across his waist, and down the long legs.

  What did she do with her body, the figure she didn’t have? The one that kept her from being “normal.” She didn’t know what to do with any of it, so she just stood there.

  If he could, so could she.

  A muscle in his jaw ticked in and out while the seconds ticked by.

  The bulletins rattled, and she realized her hands were trembling. She gripped them more tightly and willed her hands to stop.

  “I, um, I’m sorry...I’m sorry for what I said yesterday.”

  Her eyes widened, and her heart jerked.

  That was unexpected. Probably he could read that on her face, with her open mouth and her brows that felt like they were sitting in her hairline.

  This is where she was supposed to say, hey, don’t worry about it, I forgive you, it was nothing.

  Except she didn’t. Because he surprised her.

  She doubted he was expecting that.

  The seconds ticked by, more seconds, adding up to a minute, maybe two.

  He didn’t move. Maybe she should invite him in. Definitely she should say something. It was her turn to talk. They were taking turns, right?

  Her eyes dropped, and they caught on his hand hanging at his side. Brown and hard, and it looked capable, like a hand that could help her if she needed it. A hand that knew how to work. That could fix things, make things, do things with confidence and dexterity.

  But she really wasn’t thinking about all of those things, because she suddenly wondered how it would feel with the fingers on that hand sliding against the fingers on hers.

  The thought made her catch her breath. She didn’t even know him. Maybe, once upon a time, they talked, not much. Enough for her to know there was more to him than what she knew and to make her want to know more.

  She had to say something; the silence had gone beyond awkward.

  “You don’t need to apologize. I feel like I deserved it. Not because of anything I did necessarily, but because of my last name.”

  His eyes flickered at that. She got the feeling she’d surprised him too. She liked that feeling, because she didn’t want to be the only one who had been surprised and off-kilter.

  Fingers on that hand flexed and balled, but his feet stayed planted, and his lips stayed silent.

  Were they going to stand there and stare at each other again? Thankfully, she wasn’t feeling the pressure, since it wasn’t her turn to talk.

  She couldn’t think of anything to say anyway. Well, she could think of lots of things she wanted to say, but nothing that fit in the conversation, such as it was, that they were having right now.

  It had to be her imagination when he took a deep breath and seemed to let it out shakily.

  “That’s why I gave you the apology. Because it wasn’t your fault.”

  Something she’d been wanting to say for years slipped past her lips. “I was never convinced that you were guilty. In fact, I felt all along that you are innocent. But no one else believed it.”

  That time, his eyes did more than flicker. They widened and became expressive, and a whole slew of emotions crossed his face. But, like he’d gotten a hold of himself, they shut down again, and his face became blank once more.

  Maybe he got tired of proclaiming his innocence. Maybe he got tired of no one believing him. Maybe he didn’t want to talk about it. But he didn’t answer that comment.

  “Then maybe you’d be interested in taking a job after all?”

  Her brows pushed together, and her brain swirled.

  The job? He was here about the job?

  “The one at the Richmond Rebels’ shop?” she asked, feeling a little stupid, because that was the job he had to be referring to. But he’d been so sure, so emphatic, that she would not be working there.

  “Yes.”

  This was the answer to all her prayers. She’d been praying for a job, begging God to give her something, anything so she didn’t have to go back to her parents. Something so she could be normal. She’d never been driven, never wanted a big career or lots of money.

  But she had wanted to be independent. It had been her one goal.

  Well, maybe she thought about opening her own flower shop. But it seemed kind of redundant with the shop already in town. And she’d been content working there. The idea of owning her own shop, being her own boss was slightly appealing. The idea of being able to treat customers the way she wanted to was even more so.

  But not enough for her to leave the comfortable security of the life that she was living, to take the risk of opening her own shop.

  Blade still waited on her answer. Part of her wanted to jump up and down and say yes, heck yes, she was interested.

  Another part of her, a smaller part for sure, but probably the smarter part, recognized the situation for the oddity that it was.

  What was Blade doing here? And asking about her? They couldn’t want her to work there so bad that they’d send someone to talk to her, to ask her to work there, and especially Blade, of all the Truax brothers.

  Unless they were making him apologize. She didn’t really understand why they’d be doing that. They were his brothers, not his parents. Not that his parents, his dad, even had that much control over him, as far as she knew.

  He hadn’t moved, and she wondered how long he’d stand there if she didn’t say anything. Would he still be there tomorrow morning when the parishioners came for church? The thought almost made her smile.

  Regardless, the situation was odd; there had to be more to it, because Blade wouldn’t be here himself, asking her to work in the shop.

  But the adage “don’t look a gift horse in the mouth” seemed applicable in this situation. So she forced her eyes to meet his, and she said, “Yes. I’m interested.”

  Something flared in his eyes. Whether it was triumph or something else, she couldn’t tell. Not that it mattered. She needed a job; they were offering her one.

  “It’s just a temporary position. Two months.”

  That was odd.

  “Why?”

  Ms. Reva was moving, and they needed someone at the counter. Why wouldn’t it be a permanent position?

  Her question seemed to stump Blade as well because his eyes moved from hers and hooked on something behind her head. He blinked once or twice, and he shifted for the first time, like her question had made him uncomfortable.

  “Because it is.”

  Okay, yeah, there was definitely something fishy about this whole situation. “Are you getting a new computer system or something, and you won’t need someone behind the counter?” She could hardly think that was true. Computers were pretty nice to have, but as far as she knew, at the present time, they’d still need a person to run them.

  “No.”

  He’d stood for a really long time, waiting for her to figure out what she was going to say. She had patience. She could wait, too.

  “Then why?”

  She thought maybe he was going to say, “I already told you” or “because it is.” But he didn’t.

  Instead, he was brutally honest with her. She thought maybe she would rather have not known.

  “Because,” he said slowly, his eyes on hers. “Because maybe some of us think that having you there might not work out.”

  She would never have described herself as bold. And she was pretty sure that there was no one who knew her who would describe her as bold, either. But she tilted her head and said, “Some of us? What yo
u’re trying to say is you don’t want me there.”

  She almost thought, almost, that he was going to agree with her. Maybe it was the expression that seemed to float over his face, a little bit of surprise that she would say it, maybe surprise at her audacity, or maybe guilt. It definitely looked a little bit like guilt.

  Whatever it was, it was gone almost as soon as it appeared.

  It was almost like he had to talk himself into talking her out of thinking that.

  That was a thought she almost smiled at.

  “Think we already talked about your family.” His voice was low, almost like he didn’t want to say anything to offend her. But he needed to get the words out.

  “And I thought we established the fact that I didn’t necessarily agree with what they did.”

  One broad shoulder moved up almost imperceptibly. It was a small movement, but it said a lot. To her anyway. Basically, she figured he was saying maybe, maybe not. However she felt about it, her last name was Hopkins, and he was lumping her in with her family.

  She didn’t know where her boldness was coming from, but she wasn’t going to let him get away with the blatant disregard for her.

  “Don’t you find it odd that neither of us know each other very well.” A few early morning walks by the river. Sweet conversations. She had wanted more.

  Pushing those thoughts aside, she added, “But for years, I thought nothing but the best of you. And yet here today, you thought nothing but the worst of me.”

  Maybe her boldness came from anger. Because that’s how she kinda felt.

  Normally, she didn’t turn her bad side, her bad leg, toward people on purpose. Especially people she didn’t know. Not if she could help it.

  But she was done with this conversation. No one would ever accuse her of spinning; however, she turned as quickly as she could, took two halting steps to the desk, and slapped the papers down on top of it. The sound echoed in the small room.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she could have sworn he flinched.

  And rightfully so. If she was a different kind of person, she would have taken those two steps to him, and the papers would have slapped across his forehead.

  Maybe that was a little dramatic.

  She was angry, and that kind of surprised her. She’d had a lot of surprises in the last twenty minutes.

  He hadn’t moved, and she hadn’t picked up the rest of the bulletins from the printer. But she pretended like she had meant to do it all along and started folding the ones she’d slapped on the desk, setting them in a pile.

  She wanted to do it fast, snap those bulletins together, stamp out the crease, and slap them down on the pile. But she didn’t want to run out of things to do, because then she would have to walk back to the printer, which had been done printing for a while, and get the rest of the bulletins.

  Which, obviously, she should have gotten when she walked by the first time.

  Still, she couldn’t keep her hands from jerking as she worked with the papers.

  He hadn’t moved. She wasn’t sure if he was going to. She wanted to stop caring.

  Probably, she should’ve stopped caring years ago. But there was just the thing in her, maybe, that always rooted for the underdog.

  Oh boy. She almost snorted. That was rich. She didn’t care about Blade because he was the underdog.

  “I, uh, I owe you another apology. Sorry.”

  She still was unhappy. Angry. She took a deep breath through her nose and blew it out. And she didn’t even bother to look up when she answered him.

  “Sorry? Sorry for what? You throw apologies around all over the place, and I have no idea what you’re apologizing for. I also don’t know why you’re still standing there.”

  Wow. That was about the meanest she’d ever been to anybody. It took all of one and a half seconds for it to make her ribs hurt.

  She stilled her hands and closed her eyes, her head facing down at the desk. He’d hurt her yesterday afternoon. And probably, all she was doing right now was getting him back.

  Which was childish, immature, and definitely not her usual behavior.

  She lifted her head, trying to keep the mulish look off her face. It was easier for her to keep from doing things that she needed to apologize for than to actually apologize. But an apology from her was definitely in order. And he wasn’t going to wonder what it was for.

  “I’m sorry. That was very rude of me and unkind. You can stand there as long as you like. And I accept your apology.” But she couldn’t get her tongue to stop moving. “Even if I don’t know what it was for.”

  Really? Did she have to add that last part? It kind of ruined everything. And it had been a nice apology too. Considering that she didn’t usually give them, it really wasn’t bad.

  Her lips twitched; she wanted to laugh at herself. Her eyes swept across the room, looking for something to stare at other than the large man standing in her doorway, but then she saw a glimmer of something on his face, which made her sweeping gaze stop and back up.

  Yes. She was pretty sure that was a lifted lip, not exactly a smile, but he was laughing at her.

  She’d never done regal very well. Royalty didn’t limp. She lifted her brow and gave her best attempt. “I feel compelled to point out that my apology was better than yours.”

  His lips twitched. His eyes narrowed slightly. But the scariest thing, the thing that made her heart wake up and start to run, was that he moved forward a step.

  The room wasn’t that big.

  “I didn’t realize it was a competition. Because I play to win.” And he put one brow up. Not a regal look. It was a challenge. Yes, no doubt, it was a challenge.

  Well, she certainly wasn’t competitive. Much.

  “You lost that one.” She had no idea where that line came from. She wasn’t competitive normally, and when she did win, she never rubbed it in. Although she just had.

  She wasn’t sure what the twitching of his lips meant before they pursed. Then his jaw jutted out. “I’ll see you on Monday, at the Richmond Rebels’ shop?”

  “Yes.”

  Even her yes came out as a challenge. And really, she hadn’t given Pamela at the flower shop any notice. Regardless, she wasn’t taking it back. She would be there.

  “Then I’ll win the next one.”

  She bit back a gasp as he stared at her. His eyes were dark. Eyes that at one time she might’ve thought threatening. Now, she felt sure there was some humor lurking there. Still, the air between them felt charged. Actually, all the air in her small office felt charged. Full. Full of something explosive, just waiting for a spark.

  She wanted to tell him that no, she’d win the next one. But, really, she never worried about winning. This whole competition thing was just crazy. It wasn’t her at all. But Blade seemed to bring out that crazy side of her that she barely even knew she had.

  His lips moved just a little, and she thought he might be going to say something else. But he didn’t, and he turned around and walked out.

  Chapter 5

  Blade was still a little shaken the next afternoon. Normally, he might spend Sunday afternoon in the shop. Sometimes, he and his brothers went four-wheeling in the mountains. But it had been raining all day, and Blade had been searching the Internet and reading several different manuals on a new type of turbo.

  His street-racing days were behind him, but he wasn’t against helping out someone else. Their shop had made a lot of money from that over the years, even if it was something he’d just done on the side, after hours, after his normal job of welding.

  He just found it interesting. And he’d turned it into a side gig of his own, independent of the shop, as the Richmond Rebels were trying to focus on welding and repairs.

  The clouds had broken, and he was restless. It wasn’t very often that he didn’t have some project he was working on or something to do. For some reason, he was reluctant to go to the shop. There’d be something to do there.

  Maybe it was because he still
felt guilty about what he’d done. He’d fixed it, as well as he could. Libby was coming to work tomorrow.

  He hoped he could handle it.

  He wasn’t afraid he was going to hate it. That wasn’t the problem. Ha. Not at all.

  Before he went to prison, he’d met her a couple of times along the river. There was a path there, and it had been an accident the first time. She’d been walking as he drove by. He’d seen her face, and there was pretty much universal agreement that her face was actress perfect.

  He learned since then it didn’t really matter what a woman looked like. But at that time, he was still young and dumb, and her face had made him cross the bridge and swing his truck into the parking area directly on the other side.

  She hadn’t seemed to question the idea that he had been out for a walk, even though he wore work boots and had grease on his T-shirt. She’d been sweet and quiet, and there was just something about her. Something that made her different.

  Something that drew him.

  He’d screwed up though. And he paid for it.

  There was still something about her. He’d seen that yesterday. Felt it actually. No question whatever it was was stronger now than it had been all those years ago.

  Maybe that was why, when Chloe had texted him last night and wanted him to go out with her, he’d said no. And he canceled the date he’d had for this afternoon. Just sent a quick text, Hey, it’s not going to work out.

  He didn’t like hurting people’s feelings. Especially women. But he didn’t give it too much thought, because he figured those women were just the same as he was. Just looking for somebody to spend time with to keep from being bored.

  He’d been out of the pen for almost three years, and he hadn’t seen Libby but a handful of times from far away.

  All it took was that one time in the garage, then yesterday in her office. And he didn’t want to think about anybody else.

  And that made her dangerous.

  WHEN BLADE WALKED INTO the garage on Monday morning, Foster was already behind the counter with Libby. She was sitting on the high stool in front of the computer, and he was leaning over her shoulder, his hand on the mouse. He was talking, and she was staring at the screen, her brows puckered just a little and one finger tapping her chin.