by Marie Harte
“Yep. I’ve been piecing together classes for a few years now, but I finally decided to stop messing around and fully commit. I’m now full-time, and seriously, it’s a bitch. We’re starting clinicals again, where we actually follow a nurse around and do what they do—on real people.” She smiled. “So you’re not my first bandage. Fun stuff, let me tell you. Fall term just started, and I got a little lazy, having the summer off.” She dabbed something onto a cotton ball and raised it to his cheek. “This might sting a little.”
Hell. His cock was hurting worse, so he didn’t much mind. Anytime around Lara, he ached with a fierce need to kiss her. Hug her. Slam her against a wall and fuck her until he passed out.
He’d never been so captivated by a woman before. He’d seen prettier women. But something about Lara Valley struck him in the heart, the brain, and yeah, right between his legs.
He hoped she kept her gaze on his face, because he couldn’t do much about his erection with her so close.
She dabbed his cheek, and it stung. When she leaned in to get a closer look, he swallowed a moan. Dear Jesus, she was killing him. He smelled the flowery soap she’d used to wash her face. Fresh and clean, the way he always thought of her.
“Sorry.”
“What?” He sounded hoarse and had to clear his throat.
“For hurting you. I saw you flinch.”
From wanting you too much. “Don’t tell the guys, okay? I have a rep.”
She chuckled and continued to be gentle with him. “I promise. I owe you.”
He stopped her from swabbing his cheek, his hand over hers. “No, you don’t. You don’t owe me a thing, Lara. I’m serious.” He didn’t want her gratitude. It made him uncomfortable, felt wrong, somehow. Taking care of her was no big thing. It just was.
Her slow smile warmed him all over again. “Okay. I don’t owe you. Then can you do me another favor and be a willing patient while I practice my nursing skills on you?”
“Well, if you put it like that. And you did insist I eat your cookies.”
“I did.” She tried to look solemn, but her smile ruined her attempt.
He sat, staring at her, while she took care of him. Man, she was something else. So damn beautiful it hurt to look at her. She’d make eye contact before quickly glancing away, her eyes dark, a fathomless brown, rich and addicting and impossible to deny.
His heart raced anytime she was near. And damn if he didn’t want to protect her from the world—himself included—while lusting after her all the same.
I am so totally gone on this chick.
He tried to act cool and collected but feared he looked like a love-struck ass. Not that love had anything to do with the way he was feeling—or so he’d been telling himself for years—but it probably described his expression better than anything he could come up with.
She put a bandage across his cheek. “There. You were bleeding a little, and you’ll bruise, but you should be all better soon.”
“Thanks, Nurse Feel-Good.” He wiggled his brows, and she blushed.
Hell. If she looked down, she’d catch a real eyeful.
Fortunately, she put her tiny medical kit aside and moved back to her spot across the table from him. Then she took a cookie and eased into the bite. “Oh, these are good.”
“I’m telling you. Whenever Ray puts your cookies on the menu, they sell like crazy. You sure you want to be a nurse? ’Cause I’m thinking you bake like an angel.”
“An angel?” She raised a brow, the one she normally used with him to indicate she didn’t believe a word of his crap. Another reason she’d captivated him. She saw through his bullshit. “That’s the best you can do?”
He pleaded exhaustion. “I’m sorry. I took a blow to the head. It’s all I’ve got.” He put on his needy face. “Careful. I might swoon.”
“Faker.” She snickered. “I know you don’t want my gratitude. So I’m thanking you with cookies.” Her amusement faded, and she looked down, then up at him, then away again.
“Lara? What’s wrong?”
She met his gaze and said in a rush, “How come you keep asking me out?”
Change of subject, but o-kay. “Because I wanted a date.”
“Wanted?”
“Want, wanted. Whatever.” He frowned. “Hold on. Don’t all of a sudden agree to go out with me because you think you owe me something. We settled that. Cookies for bruises. It’s a done deal.” He stood and took a few steps back from the table, not wanting to loom over her. She’d been assaulted tonight, even if she insisted she was fine. “Say what you want, but you’ve had a rough night. I should probably go.”
She just watched him with an expression he couldn’t read.
But he couldn’t leave just yet. “Lara, Ron’s an asshole. No one should ever touch you when you don’t want it.” He scowled, annoyed and unable to hide it, and reiterated, “And I sure as shit don’t want you going out with me out of some fucked-up sense that you owe me.”
Damn. Talk about some money to add to the swear jar.
Her slow smile confused the hell out of him. “What?” he snapped, aware his legendary calm seemed to have deserted him. And talk about the wrong person and the wrong time to act like an ass. First Ron, now him.
She stood and crossed to him, then took his large hands in her smaller, softer ones. Christ, she was smooth. Her silky palms felt hot against his, and he wondered if his scars and calluses reminded her of their differences. Around her he felt like a big, uneducated grease monkey. Lara Valley, bartender, waitress, and college kid. Well, college woman. He’d never thought of her as a kid, not with those curves. Besides, he only had two years on her.
“Johnny?”
“Yeah?”
“Ask me again.”
He stared down at her, at those eyes he could drown in. At that ripe mouth that looked so soft yet bore a bruise or two from fuckhead Ron. “Huh?”
“You know. Ask me.” She tugged him closer, until they stood so close he could feel her breath over his chin.
Lust and tenderness swamped him, and it was all he could do not to grab her and shove her up against the nearest wall, right now. “Ask you…?”
“For a date,” she whispered and pulled him forward.
To his shock, she kissed him. A soft taste of chocolate and Lara, homey goodness and sex appeal that had him hard and unable to think beyond getting more of her. She didn’t use any tongue, but he was leery of ending the moment by taking charge, so he let her lead the way.
Soft presses of her lips moved from his mouth to his cheek. When she kissed him gently over the bandage, he felt trembly. Unsure and confused and totally not himself. All his sly one-liners escaped him, replaced with a crazy need to hold her close and never let go.
She pulled back and waited.
“Lara,” he said, his voice husky. “Will you go out with me?”
“Yes. I think I will. How about dinner and a movie?”
How about I remember how to talk instead of staring at you? He swallowed audibly. “That would be nice.”
She smiled. “Great. It’s a date.”
* * *
Two days later, Johnny was still kicking his own ass. Nice? He might as well have said swell or nifty and sounded even more like a loser. The woman had been jumped by a dirtbag, seen Johnny pound the snot out of the guy, then taken better care of him than anyone ever had. She didn’t owe him jack shit, but she wanted to go out with him. And he’d lamely called the idea of a date with her nice?
“Hey, numbnuts, you still working on the VW?” Foley asked him.
“Yeah. Done the oil, now just a few more things to check off the list.” Though he wished the VW’s owner had taken his car to an oil-and-lube place. The simple stuff bored the crap out of him. He’d much rather rebuild an engine or fix a transmission. Something challenging. Johnny liked solving problems. Well, mechanical ones. Not personal bullshit.
He finished checking the car’s fluids, topped off what was low, then checked under th
e chassis. The thing looked beat-up but in good shape, though the steering components could use a boost. After greasing up the front axle, he set the lift back down and drove the car outside.
His return walk turned into a run as he nearly froze to death. Jesus, a few days, and Seattle had turned from warm to Arctic-cold. In early September. Man, it was going to be a long-ass trip through winter.
After he closed the bay door to preserve a little heat, he walked back to his station and announced, “Colder than a witch’s t—ah, hey there, Colin.”
Sam smirked. “Nice save.” He added a silent dumbass only Johnny would see.
The dick.
Colin McCauley stood just inside the side entrance, behind the low rope fence separating arriving clientele from the dangers of the garage. The little six-year-old waved like mad. Del’s future stepson was a cute kid full of questions. He had a brain like a computer, too. Kid didn’t miss much, and he never seemed to forget anything Johnny told him. Beside him, quivering on a leash, stood a lumbering puppy that seemed to have grown since the last time Del had brought Jekyll in. A few days ago.
“Hi, Johnny.” Colin kept bobbing his head covered in a Chicago Bears beanie. “Me and Jekyll are here with Dad. We’re visiting Mom.”
Del bragged that the boy loved calling her Mom. She was such a trip. Tatted and pierced, bandying tough love to her gruff mechanics—some who’d done time—with no problem. He didn’t think she’d ever been afraid of any of them. Like her father, Del didn’t give a shit. She had the heart of a lion, and she’d do anything for those she cared for. She sure seemed to like mothering little Colin.
Seeing the kid again made Johnny wonder what it would be like to be a parent himself. For a long time he’d considered himself too young for parenthood. But he was almost thirty. Older than Del, come to think of it.
“That dog looks huge.” Johnny wiped his hands and joined Colin and Jekyll. “Wasn’t he two inches shorter on Tuesday?”
Colin stared at the dog, considering.
Mike McCauley entered and quickly shut the door behind him. “Damn, it’s cold.”
Across the garage, Foley rattled the jar.
“Shi—oot. She’s got one here too?” Mike sighed.
The guys laughed.
Mike was built like a tank and did construction for a living but could have easily fit in with the gang at Webster’s. Probably why Del had fallen for him. McCauley didn’t put on airs, seemed like a solid worker, and had a thing about loyalty.
He wasn’t intimidated by her, either. Del needed a guy stronger than her, physically and mentally. Johnny had realized that the moment he’d met her. He was good like that, able to sum up most people at first glance. Women especially.
Well, most women. Lara confused him.
Was that what Lara wanted? Some big, buff guy? One who could take care of her, the way he had the other day with Ron? He felt good every time he remembered how satisfying it had been to punch that guy in the face.
He felt even better remembering the smile Lara had given him for it.
“Yeah,” Sam growled. “This pup is a keeper for sure.” Sam had joined them while Johnny was woolgathering. The big guy crouched, petting Jekyll, and induced doggie groans as Jekyll rolled over to show his belly.
“Total submission.” Mike chuckled. “He knows you’re dominant, Sam.”
“Sam, dominant?” Johnny huffed. “Please. He’s a pussycat.” Johnny had the nerve to tease, especially with Colin close by.
Sam just stared at him. “Cats have claws, Johnny.”
“That’s true.” Colin nodded. “But Jekyll likes cats. He was licking my friend Brian’s cat yesterday.”
Mike muttered, “More like tenderizing a meal.” In a louder voice, he said, “Dogs and cats don’t usually get along. We might want to keep Jekyll away from Furball.”
“Who’s Furball?” Colin looked puzzled.
“Isn’t that Brian’s cat?” Mike wore an identical expression.
It was weird and kind of cute, father and son looking so much alike.
If Johnny had a son, would the boy resemble him? Or would his daughter look more like her mother? An image of a mini-Lara sitting on his shoulders freaked him the hell out. Sure, she was hot. Sure, he wanted a date or three. But marriage and kids? Hell, he’d be lucky to call her a girlfriend.
Time to stop fixating on an impossible future and focus on the here and now. On his upcoming date. In just one more day. She had Friday night off, and he planned to take her out for dinner and a movie. He could do that. Be normal and low-key.
“Um, Johnny?” Mike frowned. “You okay?”
Johnny’s cheeks heated. He’d been staring at McCauley and once again daydreaming about Lara.
“It’s not you, Mike,” Foley said kindly.
Hell.
“Johnny’s got a girl on the brain,” Sam added as he stood. “One girl in particular. Isn’t that right, Romeo?”
Johnny glared. “Hey, girls are people too.” Oh, what he wanted to say to Sam but couldn’t…
“Johnny.” Colin shook his head. He seemed disappointed. “Girls aren’t really people.” He looked around, then added in a low voice, “They wear perfume sometimes. And they have—boobs.”
Mike blinked.
The guys laughed, Lou especially hard from his spot under a Camaro.
“Really? Is that what those are?” Johnny said.
“Devlin,” Mike growled.
“Hey, he said it.”
“And Mom and Aunt Vanessa and Maddie and Abby,” Colin continued. “Oh, and Grandma. I think maybe Brian’s mom has them too.”
“Has what?” Del asked as she joined them.
Everyone stared at her in silence.
Johnny elbowed Sam in the gut. “Tell her.”
“Shit, no. I mean, heck no.”
Foley rattled the jar, and Del glanced from Sam to it and back.
Sam muttered something not meant for little ears and stormed away.
“Sorry about that,” Johnny apologized for him. “His vocabulary is severely limited.”
“Around here I’m not surprised.” Mike sighed. “My fiancée can be a tough boss.”
Johnny shook his head. “You think she’s tough now, you should have seen her before you two started dating. Talk about mean.”
Colin nodded, looking serious. “That’s why she’s so awesome. She’s tough. Like a ninja!” He started doing karate moves and dancing around.
“See why I said no M&Ms?” Mike growled at her. “And that’s our cue to get you and go.” Mike stepped on Jekyll’s leash before the dog could join Colin in a frenzy. Then he grabbed it off the floor and tossed it to Del. “Your turn with the puppy from hell. Come on, woman, or we’ll be late for dinner.”
“And you didn’t invite us?” Johnny put on his sad face. “I’m wounded, Mike. I thought we were best friends.”
“Ass.”
“What did you say?” Johnny said loudly.
Foley shook the Rattle of Oppression jar just as Del swung Colin over her shoulder and turned back to scowl. “I heard that, McCauley. You know the rules. No cussing.”
Mike made a face. “Here too?”
“Go give Foley a quarter.”
“Hell.”
“Make that two.” Del narrowed her gray eyes.
“Fine. But we’re going to talk about this later. I don’t know why I have to watch my mouth when the things coming out of yours are turning my hair white.”
Mike left and returned fifty cents poorer.
“We call it ROP—the Rattle of Oppression,” Johnny said with sympathy. “You get used to it.”
Mike started laughing. Before Del could blister Johnny for it, Mike kissed the fight out of her. She melted into him, and Johnny couldn’t look away from his tough-as-nails boss in obvious love. A wave of envy hit him hard, surprising in its intensity.
So of course he had to make fun, anything to escape a yawning self-pity party growing near. In a singsong
voice, he belted out, “Mike and Del, sitting in a tree…”
“K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” Colin laughed, then giggled some more when Del tickled him.
“Traitor,” she said over her shoulder to the little boy dangling down her back. She set him down, then she turned to them once more. “Okay, slackers. I’m taking off early. Dad’ll be here in another forty minutes. You can kick off at five if you want. We have a lot to get to tomorrow through next week.”
Johnny nodded. “Sounds good.”
“Oh, and to whoever came up with ROP? Bathroom duty.”
A lot of moaning and groaning before Johnny found the obvious answer. “It was Dale.”
The service writer Del had taken under her wing a few months ago, a nineteen-year-old bored with life who’d somehow become a vital part of the garage. He was taking some time visiting family in Oregon, so he’d missed a few days. Thus the perfect guy to throw under the bus.
“Yeah, Dale,” Foley agreed.
“Yep,” Sam and Lou chimed in.
Del rolled her eyes. “Like I’m believing that one.” She poked Johnny in the chest. “I know it was you. But hey, you want me to pick on Dale? It’s done.”
She turned and walked toward the exit. “Foley, you have the shop,” she called before she and her family, dancing dog included, left.
In the sudden quiet, Lou wheeled himself out from beneath the car and stood. He wiped his hands on the towel tucked into his back pocket. “So, Johnny. Now that we’re alone, how about you tell us what went down Tuesday night at Ray’s?”
The guys circled him.
“Not sure what you mean.”
“So you what? Banged into a door for that shiner?” Lou asked.
Sam just stared at his bruised cheekbone.
“What shiner? It’s a little purple,” Johnny scoffed.
Foley laughed. “Yeah, right. So give us a play-by-play. Did you break the fucker’s nose or what?”
Johnny sighed. “Rena told, didn’t she?”
“Yep. Sang like a canary.” Lou grinned. “I barely had to ask her. At least you won.”
“So what exactly happened?” Sam asked.
“Some dickhead tried to force himself on Lara, so I broke his face.”