“I do, but John’s got some cash saved up. Between the two of us, we can get approved for a small business loan.” he smiles proudly. “In fact, we already did.”
“A financial institution approved you?” I ask with some surprise.
“Why wouldn’t they? I’ve got equity and decent credit. Jared did the pitch, so they know we have what it takes to make it work.”
Jake’s face turns a dangerous shade of red for no reason I can figure out. “You put up the house as collateral?” John nods. “You’re seriously okay with that?” He nods again. Jake stares at him in disbelief. “You are?”
“Dead serious.”
“Like a heart attack,” Jared says.
By now, I’m on board, but this is more a family discussion. Jake is the only one who isn’t convinced, which is a real surprise, considering he’s has a tendency of chasing dumb idea, most of which are less than legal. He shakes his head and pushes his chair backward, placing one foot on the other knee.
“Naw. I can’t let you do that.”
Jared lifts his chin. “Why not?”
“Because fuck, you can’t let John put up his house for this. I don’t know how much money we’re talking about, but I’m damn sure it’s not pocket change. What if it doesn’t pan out?”
“It will,” Jared insists. “It’s an excellent business model. Getting the bank’s backing means a hell of a lot. They’re really excited about this. Look, this is our time. We can do this, the three of us.”
“And you’re sure people who know us will be lining up to hand over their car keys? With our records?” Jake purses his lips and looks down at his hands. He’s got a point. Even people who’ve known Jared and me for years look at us differently since we’ve been out. I’ve come home. Strangers who find out won’t likely be all warm and fuzzy about trusting us.
“Did you miss the part about where we set up near the industrial area where John works? Half of those blue-collar guys have family who have done time. They still need someone to work on their vehicles.” Jared leans forward in impatient excitement. “We’ve thought of that. It’ll work.”
Jake leans back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling to digest it all. He has no real reason to be hesitant, not if you add the fact that he hasn’t been able to hold down a job in the four months since he got out. My bet is that he just needs time to get over the idea that he’d be working for his kid brother, but that’s nowhere near as bad as being unemployed. He of all people should see that this just may be the lifeline we need.
We’re creating our own employment.
I’m all for it.
Jake’s gaze draws my eyes to his.
“Well?” he asks.
Pushing my chair back, I get to my feet. “Jake probably needs time, but I’m in,” I announce and shake Jared’s and John’s hands one after the other. “Thank for having our backs.”
I can’t get anything else out. My throat is too tight, so I nod and head back out to our apartment. John has already given me lots by letting me live here. And now Jared is willing to forego a stable high-paying job in the corporate world to start something that includes us. A legitimate business. Not some shady shit that’ll put me back behind bars. How can I say no to that? My life has been fucked up from the get-go, so what they’re doing for me is a pretty big deal.
I just hope that Jake comes around.
5
Katelynn
Two Months Later
I haven’t seen him.
Driving, walking, even jogging past his house have not been fruitful. There’s still no sign of him. Sometimes his truck is there, but most of the time it’s not, and I’ve never gotten a glimpse of gas station hottie. My interest in seeing him again has turned into a full-fledged fixation.
I’m obsessed.
Damn. That doesn’t sound stalker-like at all. Maybe Savannah’s rubbing off on me.
Did I mention I’m still a virgin?
Yeah, there’s that.
I have no explanation to rationalize why him. Sure, he seemed like walking sex appeal in a muscle shirt and blue jeans. And he was rather detailed as he checked me out. But there are lots of hot-looking men around Amarillo, and none of them had my core clenching or my body on high alert.
Which is why I stopped trying to understand it.
The real question is, why not him?
I glance at the dashboard clock on my way into work. Fifteen minutes until I’m due to clock in. My boss hates when I’m late on a Friday. He has a family and likes to leave on time for his son’s little league games. Because I’m running slightly late, I don’t take the route past that guy’s house this morning. There’s also a new auto detailing place a few blocks from my job that I wanted to try out, so I need to make the time count. I should have just enough time to hand over my keys and get to work. Assuming that my coworker, Will, is on time picking me up there. Just in case, I send him a quick text reminder when I get close.
‘Morning, Will. All set to pick me up?’
He replies with, ‘Howdy. Ya. Be there in five.’
I spot the shop and pull into the front drive. An Open For Business banner waves over the garage bay. Pulling my car into one of the spots near the office, I jump out. Will’s truck isn’t here, but he should arrive any minute. Just like me, he’s got a job to get to.
A bell rings as I push the front door open. The place smells good, like lemon-flavored cleaning products and new car smell mixed into one. It’s clean too, from the waiting room chairs to the coffee machine, everything shines. I’m impressed when the door behind the service counter opens. They’re prompt, which I need this morning. I’m halfway to the counter when a man in a serviceman’s onesie steps through the doorway.
And. I. Freeze.
It’s him.
Gas station hottie.
My breath catches in my throat as our eyes connect. A slow smile lifts up his lips, and his eyes drag down my body like it did once before.
He remembers me.
Maybe.
“Mornin’,” he says politely.
“Good...” I swallow and go for it again. “Good morning.”
It takes every ounce of willpower to make my legs move toward him. “I…I’d like to have my car detailed,” I stammer. “I noticed your sign says that no appointments are necessary. Do you have availability to get it done today?”
He keeps his eyes fixed on mine and nods. “Yes, ma’am.”
Jesus.
That voice.
The way he says “ma’am’” in that deep baritone timber sends a shiver through me. He makes what shouldn’t be anything other than another formality sound sexy.
“I’ve seen you somewhere before,” he states with one eyebrow raised.
A swarm of butterflies takes off in my stomach and my heart nearly leaps out of my throat. “I think so,” I lie. “Amarillo’s not that big.”
“Yeah, yeah. It was that gas station out on Southwest 34th. You remember?”
“Right.” I look down at the car keys in my hand, unsure what else to say. This dialogue stuff doesn’t come naturally for me. I’m even worse at flirting. “Filling up at the gas pumps leave plenty of free time to notice people you’ve never met before,” I tell him. Gosh, I really suck.
His full lips part, and he laughs. My cheeks burn from embarrassment. That wasn’t funny. He must be laughing at me, not what I said. He props an elbow onto the counter and leans into it. Biceps and ink pop out from under his shirt sleeve. “And some people are harder to forget,” he says, eyes filled with a new intensity.
The door behind him opens and another employee emerges. He’s just as handsome and buff as the one at the counter, but with light hazel eyes, sandy brown hair, and rounder facial features. Wow. Are all the guys who work here this hot?
“Hunter, what time are we supposed to have that Chevy ready to go?” he asks before he catches sight of me. When he does notice that I’m standing there, his eyes widen. “Mornin’ ma’am,” he adds.
“Eleven,” my gas station hottie who I just found out is called Hunter says. “And we’ve got another car to detail. It belongs to Miss...” he starts, waiting for me to add the rest.
“Katelynn. Katelynn Rafferty.”
“Katelynn Rafferty,” he repeats, slowly rolling my name on his tongue.
“Do you need me to pay upfront?” I ask, reaching for my purse.
“Not at all. Just leave a phone number so we can contact you…for emergencies and such. We’ll have the bill ready when you pick it up.”
“Great. My cell is 806-555-1234. Here are my car keys,” I breathe out, reliving the reason this guy caught my attention the first time. He looks at me as though I’m the sexiest woman he’s ever seen.
No.
The only woman.
That look twists my stomach, rattles my brain, and makes talking very, very difficult.
“Perfect. Will you need a ride into work?”
Damn, I can use a ride from Hunter, all right. His offer has me wishing that I hadn’t asked Will to come get me. “No, thanks,” I mutter with some hesitation. “I made other arrangements.”
Nodding, he extends his hand after putting my car keys on the countertop. “I’m Hunter by the way, and this here is Jake.”
I touch him and have to force myself not to react to the electricity pouring from his skin to mine, instantly spreading heat to my core. Goodness, I can’t imagine what I’d end up doing if those hands touch me in other places. Or if his lips make contact with mine.
Jake steps up to the counter and offers to shake my hand too. Magnetic heat pulsates in his palm and draws me in too.
Or is it just my hormones raging?
I’m hot for both of them.
This is weird.
“Just an interior detail?” Jake asks.
“And a carwash, please,” I correct him, noticing that my hand has wandered to my head and I’m twirling a lock of hair around my fingers like a nervous, immature schoolgirl.
Hunter fixes his gaze on what I’m doing with my hair. “Is there anything else we can take care of for you?”
His lips purse and twist as if he’s trying mighty hard not to smile. I want to come up with a witty reply, but having a man stare at makes me extra nervous.
No.
Two men.
I glance at Jake, who’s now wearing a wolfish grin. For a split second, he looks over at Hunter, who nods as though they have their own form of silent communication.
The bell dings to the front door opening behind me.
“I made it, Kitten,” says the voice at the door, immediately ending the moment. “Am I late?”
“Mornin’, Will,” I answer before turning around. On top of calling me by my pet name, Kitten, his South Carolina cadence is unmistakable. “No, we’re good.”
Will hooks his thumbs in his pants and stands at the door. “You ready?”
“Yes. Let’s go.” I turn back to Hunter. “Thanks for squeezing me in. I’ll be back after work…around five.”
“Sure thing, Miss Rafferty,” he answers more formally, probably because Will is here.
The timing is all wrong. I can’t very well keep the conversation going with Hunter now that Will is here, or with Jake standing there too, even if he is pretty hot too. I notice their grand opening flyer on one side of the countertop. It has a contact number on it, so I silently promise myself that I’ll phone over my lunch hour.
I can do this.
I have to.
As I leave, I can almost feel the heat of their stares at my back. I barely hear a word that Will says as he makes conversation for the walk to his truck or during the short drive into work. I think my brain is stuck. I’m completely distracted while answering phones, drafting memos, tracking orders and invoices, and taking messages for my boss. It’s a wonder I don’t screw up anything major. Hunter is on my mind for the entire day, and every so often, the image of Jake filters in. It’s not every day I run into a man who causes women’s panties to drop, let alone two. But over the lunch hour, I find out something about myself again.
I. Am. A. Goddamned. Coward.
So many times, I punch in nine of the ten digits in the number on the flyer. Fear stopped me from doing it. Fear and self-doubt, as well as the fact that I can’t figure out the best opening line. What am I supposed to tell him?
“Hey, I’ve passed by your house a couple hundred times and I think we have a connection.”
Or…
“I saw you at the gas station and had to know more.”
Or…
“Hi. You’re a lucky winner! I’m a virgin, and I choose YOU to pop my cherry.”
I hate myself for not follow through. There’s no way I’m bringing it up in person later if I can’t do it over the phone.
It’s hopeless.
6
Katelynn
At five o’clock on the dot, I wait at the front door for Will to drive me back to the auto shop. I’m edgy and for the whole ride there, unable to tamp down my combined excitement, anxiety, and disappointment in myself. Will is busy on his phone for most of the ride there, so at least I don’t have to put any extra effort into making empty conversation. I’m slightly more relieved that he’s in a hurry to get somewhere, so doesn’t stick around at the auto detailing shop to wait.
I walk into the customer waiting area to find that no one’s around. There’s an episode of some fifties show playing on the flat screen in the corner.
“Hello?” I call out. The double doors leading to the garage bays on the left are open halfway. I slowly walk towards it. “Anyone here?”
“Howdy,” someone says behind me, startling me so much that I practically jump out of my skin as I turn around. Hunter is standing just inches away from me. “Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you like that.”
Staring up at his face, I take a deep breath in an attempt to calm my wild heartbeat. “It’s okay. I scare pretty easy.”
The combined scents of motor oil, citrus, and his oh so masculine smell float off of him. It makes my inner thigh tighten, and my stomach does a little flip.
“Your car’s ready,” he tells me, wiping his palms on a rag in his hand while his eyes stay trained on me.
“Great,” I whisper, and follow him back to the front counter for my car keys. I can’t seem to speak more loudly when this guy’s around, and have no explanation for why I’m so lightheaded.
He steps behind the counter and checks through something on the desktop computer before turning to pull my keys from one of the wall hooks. “You’re just in time, too. We’re about to close up shop.”
“Oh! I’m sorry. Here, let me pay.” I fish my purse from my handbag, but Hunter gently places his hand over mine, stopping me. “It’s on the house. Consider it our grand opening discount.”
“No. I can’t have y’all work for free.”
“I insist. Just spread the word and tell your friends and coworkers that we’re open. That’ll be a big help.”
“Oh, I was already raving about this place with my boss and a few of my friends at work. I’d still like to pay, if you don’t mind.”
“I’d much rather buy you a drink…or a few, if you’d like to go out sometime with me and Jake.”
I rake my teeth over my lips and smile, but then the invite sinks in.
He asked me to go out.
With him and Jake.
I’m puzzled. Is this a date or some kind of friendly outing? Does he want me to bring a friend too? Whatever the situation is, I’m in.
“I’d like that,” I tell him. “When were you thinking?”
“How’s tonight?”
“Sure, that works,” I say, hoping my overeager excitement isn’t too obvious.
“Great.” He pulls out his phone from a side pocket, unlocks the screen, and passes it to me. “Let’s exchange numbers. I’ll call you later and set it up.”
“Okay.”
I have a date tonight!
Three hours.
That’s hardly enough time to hurry home, sit down to supper, shower, labor over what to wear, apply some makeup, get my hair blow-dried, and get out the door. But I make do. Parking my freshly cleaned car into McGraw’s Saloon about ten minutes late, I hope they don’t mind me being fashionably late. Hopefully I’m worth it. Hopping out the car, I run my hands over my stomach to smooth out my top, and glance at my distorted reflection on the side of the door. My hair falls onto my shoulder in natural loose waves. Makeup looks decent. I’ve got my tan Lucchese boots and lucky jeans miniskirt on. Add them to my brand new soft pink baby doll top and beige Stetson cowboy hat, and it’s the perfect outfit to impress a guy.
The trouble is, there’s not one guy to impress. There’s two. In the couple of text messages that we exchanged over the last few hours, I never got around to ask Hunter whether or not he wanted me to bring someone along. I don’t know just what to expect. With three of us, it’s not really a date.
It can’t be a date.
Right?
Maybe it’s a date with Hunter, and Jake is just along as his wingman. Or maybe I’m overanalyzing. Shaking my head, I push all thoughts away to avoid going off the deep end. It’s just drinks with Hunter and Jake. Coming out tonight gives me a chance to know Hunter, nothing more. It’s way better than when I was hovering around his house for a glimpse of him. I can leave whenever I want. And I’ll stick to my two-drink limit to be in control of all my mental faculties.
I loop my purse over my shoulder and head inside to the sound of a Blake Shelton hit playing through the speakers. The place is softly lit, with major league baseball and auto racing on the four flat screen TVs mounted at intervals on maple colored wood paneling walls. There’s a sea of Stetsons, Sheplers and Tony Lama cowboy hats around, making it more difficult to spot anyone I might know.
Taking a seat at the bar, I scan the tables for Hunter or Jake. Hunter waves from a booth at the other end of the saloon and my breath hitches. He has a warm, welcoming smile lighting up his face, drawing me in as I weave my way around tables and patrons to get to him.
Ex-Con Times Two Page 3