by Rin Daniels
Plans for the future. She hadn’t even known he thought about that stuff.
She hadn’t asked, either.
She caught herself holding her breath. “That’s…” Nadine steadied her voice before her excitement leaked out. “Dude, Lucas, that’s awesome.”
His shoulders moved, drawing her attention like a magnet. Focus, she thought, averting her gaze from the interplay of muscle beneath his skin. She was so hooked on it. On him.
If she had her phone on her, she’d sneak a shot just for Kat.
“Needs capital,” he said, a matter-of-factness to his voice that surprised her. “Can’t do it on credit.”
Capital? She frowned at the car. To her inexpert eye, it was a beautiful machine. He babied the glossy paint, fine-tuned things she never would have thought needed it. She’d heard him start it up a few times, and it purred like a powerful feline. Hell, he probably stroked it affectionately when he passed.
But she’d seen him work on her hybrid, too, and though it wasn’t a muscle car, his focus never wavered.
He was good. Way better than any of the mechanics at the local shops.
“Well, maybe someday,” he said quietly, like he’d forgotten she was there. “Somewhere.”
Somewhere?
She could do better than that.
“Hey,” she said. A total non-starter, but she forged ahead. “Did you know that most of my dad’s friends are into car collecting?”
Yeah, I figured.” Lucas grabbed a rag from the worktable beside her, slanting her a lifted eyebrow. “A lot of the shows here are put on by—”
“David Wellesley and his son,” she finished, grinning. She flicked a finger back at the flier. “They’re one of my dad’s clients.”
He nodded.
Enthusiasm replaced satiated lethargy. “It’s a great opportunity.” The possibilities unfolded in her head, and she all but bounced in place as she worked them through. “You show this car, and I can’t imagine anyone wouldn’t want to hire you. Lucas!” She caught his arm. “This is amazing. I mean, if capital’s the problem, I can always—”
The muscles in his forearm locked beneath her touch. “Don’t, Nadine.”
She went still, surprised. “What?”
His voice dropped an octave. “I don’t need help.”
“I was just—”
The wrench in his hand clattered against the worktable beside her. “I didn’t tell you,” he said, jerking his arm out of her grasp, “so that you could throw money at me.”
She flinched. Defensively, her arms folded over her stomach. “Excuse me,” she said tightly. “I wasn’t aware that my friendship had limits.”
“Well, it does.”
That hurt. She couldn’t even say why, not without sounding like a whiny brat. She huffed out a laugh. “Nice. You’d rather, what, never have help?”
“I don’t need your money,” he snarled. He strode for the side door back into the house, rag gripped in hand.
What the hell? That escalated fast.
Her temper spiked. She followed him. “I’m not trying to just give you money.”
Lucas flung the rag into the kitchen sink, strode past it to the bedroom.
She hated when he did this. “I’m talking investments, here. Business plans.” She struggled to keep her tone reasonable, level, but God, he made it hard. Why couldn’t he see what she was trying to do? “You need capital, and Daddy has all these friends who need a mechanic of your outstanding caliber.”
Lucas jerked open a drawer, snatched a T-shirt from it. Every move jerked. “I don’t need your family’s money,” he said, half of it muffled as he dragged the shirt over his head. “I don’t need investments from you or them.”
“Oh, come on,” she snapped. She flung a hand back towards the garage. “That car is gorgeous. You could make a living at this!”
“Yeah, I know.”
He strode toward her, his expression locked down to something inscrutable. Something…tense.
She stepped aside before he ran her over. “Then what’s the problem?”
“Leave it alone,” he growled as he brushed past her.
She paced him back down the hall, through the kitchen. “Where are you going?”
“Out.”
“Great. One mention of money—which you brought up,” she pointed out, spiteful for it. “And now you’re running away.”
Her stomach twisted as he grabbed his keys from the hook by the garage door. “I’m not doing this,” he growled.
“And why should you?” Nadine laughed bitterly. “No wonder you can’t hold down a steady job.” He froze in the door. Unable to stop herself, to swallow the angry—hurt—words, her jaw thrust out in stubborn, helpless anger. “Grow up, Lucas.”
He turned on her so fast, her heart jumped into her throat. A hand slammed against the wall by her head, fingers splayed so tightly they gleamed bone white. His eyes blazed into hers, mouth set into a thin line. “Don’t,” he said, so low, so desperately, that her anger drained away.
In its wake, a cold, hollow ache.
What the hell was she doing? What did she hope to goad him into?
She averted her eyes. “Fine,” she said, sick. “Go away. I don’t care.”
For a long moment, neither of them moved. She held her breath.
He hissed out a curse.
Seizing the side of her head, fingers tight at her scalp, he locked her down her for a kiss that was as hard and bruising as it was desperate. And so short. “I’ll call you,” he said tersely, and left her standing in his own hallway.
Nadine’s knees gave out as the side door closed behind him. She slid down to the floor, wrapped her arms around her upraised knees and didn’t know what affected her more. His unwillingness to take her help, or the fact she’d lost her freaking mind and he still said he’d call her.
He didn’t even like calling her.
Tears welled in her eyes. She blinked them away with a hard sniff.
She needed a second opinion.
* * *
“He’s totally a jerk,” Kat said, setting a ceramic mug full of coffee in front of Nadine. “Grade-A, no holds barred. But…” She put a container of flavored coffee creamer in reach. “I mean, I kind of get where he’s coming from.”
Nadine hunched over herself at Kat’s small kitchen table. The apartment her friend had managed to find and rent was too tiny for anything else. The one-bedroom floor plan boasted a cramped bathroom, a living room adjoined with a kitchen, and not much else. Nadine’s bedroom was bigger than the whole place put together.
When she was here with Kat, it was cozy.
Except right now, it felt like a pale comparison to Lucas’s garage.
She sniffed back a watery laugh as she wrapped her hands around the coffee mug. The warmth of it seeped through her fingers, which had felt too cold since last night. Everything seemed too cold. Too numb.
Too infuriating, if she thought about it too long.
“It’s so stupid,” Nadine said, pouting down into the black brew. The smell did a little to lift her brain out of the fog, but she couldn’t bring herself to drink it black like Kat did. Even if she felt like she deserved the punishment today.
“Maybe.” Her friend opened the creamer and poured a generous helping into Nadine’s cup. “I mean, yeah, it kind of is. But, sweetie, you’re so much more used to money than we are.”
“That just means I’m able to help,” she protested.
“Yeah.” Kat set the flavored creamer back down, snapping it shut with a sigh. “But you remember how long it took me to even tell you what was going on?” She propped a hand on her chin, elbow on the table. Her dark green eyes overflowed with sympathy. “Guys are worse about that stuff. They’re practically conditioned to believe that if they aren’t the top money-makers, they fail at life.”
Nadine drank the hazelnut-flavored coffee instead of trying to reply. She didn’t know what to say. How to make it clear that helping Kat—helping
Lucas—made her happy.
Her friend sighed. “Not that the Harrises can talk. If the people in my family had their way, they’d live like leeches forever.” She grimaced. “Which is the point, I think. Your mechanic doesn’t want to feel like a leech.”
“He’s not a leech!”
“I know, honey,” Kat said soothingly, the verbal equivalent of patting an overeager puppy on the head.
Nadine was being ridiculous, and she knew it. But she didn’t know what else to do.
So she came to Kat’s apartment. Where she could cry if she wanted to, rage if that was better, or just sit and watch TV until her brain rotted. The coffee was strong, the creamer helped soften the bite. It made her feel a little warmer on the inside, too—a little more real.
A little less like she would cry—or throw something—at any moment.
“I should’ve punched him,” she muttered.
Kat chuckled. “Yeah, that’d have gone over well.”
“I know,” she groaned, slumping over the table. She held her coffee in both hands, arms outstretched, and dropped her forehead to the surface with a thump. “Stupid Lucas.”
Her friend’s voice went thoughtful. “Lucas, huh?”
“Yeah.” Her voice dulled against the table surface. “Lucas the Stupid Mechanic. With his stupid pride and his stupid face and his stupid, stupid muscles.”
“Oh, honey.” A gentle hand ruffled the back of her hair. “He’s not stupid. I bet he’s just trying to work through all the feels his man-pride is suffering.”
She couldn’t help it. She looked up, snickering. “And there were feels. So many.”
“I believe you,” Kat replied, tilting her head. A lock of red-streaked dark brown slid across her cheek. “But I mean the soft feels.”
“Nothing soft about it.”
“Nadine,” she laughed. “Seriously.”
“Okay, okay.” Nadine straightened again. Her chest still hurt, but she took a deep breath and expelled her frustration on a long sigh. “So what do I do? I mean, he’s amazing at what he does. Like, completely blow your—”
“Nadine.”
“—mind,” she finished primly, “kind of amazing.” And because she could only be herself, she added slyly, “And his car is gorgeous.”
Kat sighed gustily, but didn’t answer right away. She sipped at the heavy ceramic cup in her hands, hummed a thoughtful sound around it.
Nadine wrinkled her nose. “You’re making that noise again.”
“Yeah.” She drew the word out. “You know, it sounds like the only problem he’s got is wanting to do it himself. Something,” Kat added dryly, “I can relate to.”
“Yeah, but you were dealing with loan sharks!”
“And he’s dealing with, you know, whatever it is he’s dealing with.” Kat sighed. “Face it, cookie. He’s going to have to work this out himself.”
“Boo.” Nadine rested her head on the back of the chair, stretched her legs out to brace her bare feet against her friend’s knees. “I don’t get it. How come he doesn’t just go to that car show?”
“What show?”
She told Kat about the vintage ride event, adding, “My dad’s clients run the thing. It would be so easy to get his car up there.”
Kat’s brow furrowed. “Yeah, hang on.” She leaned back in her chair, the front rungs coming off the floor, and swiped her smartphone from the counter. She thumbed the screen a few times, held up a finger as Nadine lifted an eyebrow, and held the device to her ear. After a moment, she said, “Hey, it’s me. I have a question.”
The faint murmur of Adam’s voice trickled from the speaker. Nadine laced her hands over the top of her cup, resting her chin on top, and couldn’t help the pull of wistful jealousy—of sheer, unadulterated envy—as her friend’s features softened.
She wanted that. Wanted the opportunity—the privilege—of calling Lucas because he was her lover. Because he wanted to talk to her, not just let her talk to him.
She wanted to feel like he wasn’t bothered every time she called.
“Yeah, Nadine’s here,” Kat said. “Listen, you know that car show put on by what’s-his-face?”
“Wellesley,” Nadine supplied.
“Yeah, that’s him,” she replied to both of them, probably. She winked at Nadine. “What’s it take to get a car in it?” Nadine’s eyes narrowed when Kat whistled. “No kidding? Uh-huh.” She sipped from her cup, raising her eyebrows at Nadine in some form of reassurance. Or the opposite. “Okay. Is it too late? Wait,” she added, and pulled the phone from her ear to touch the screen. “Okay, you’re on speaker.”
“Hey, handsome,” Nadine chirped.
“Hey, yourself,” Adam replied, his voice a shade scratchy. “You have exactly three minutes before my board meeting. Make it fast.”
“I’m so lucky you love my best friend,” Nadine replied, saccharine sweet.
“You really are.”
“Jerk.”
Kat laughed.
“Right, you want to know how to get a car featured in Wellesley’s event, right?” Adam’s voice flipped into the brisk, no-nonsense tones she imagined he used for his boardroom meetings. Did he use it on Kat in the bedroom, too? She sneaked a glance at her friend, but Kat was only drinking her coffee—no heaving panting or flushed cheeks in sight.
Lame.
“Like I told Kat,” he continued, “it’s a thousand to enter a vehicle and five to put it on one of the centerpieces. Wellesley Senior’s got a hard-on for era-appropriate materials, too. His son’s less strict, but if you want a centerpiece, you’ll have to pass the materials exam.”
Nadine winced. “Wow. I don’t even know if the car’s set up that way.”
“But,” Kat countered, “he could enter into the general show, right?”
“Who are we talking about?” Adam queried.
“Her sex god mechanic,” Kat said, raising her eyebrows suggestively across the table.
Heat shot into Nadine’s cheeks. “Shut up.”
Adam laughed, quickly muffled as second masculine voice murmured something too far to hear. After a moment, he said, “Look, I have to go, but if you need a line on a ticket, let me know.”
“Thanks, babe,” Kat said. “Good luck!”
“Thanks, babe,” Nadine echoed cheekily.
“Anytime, sweethearts.”
The line went dead as Kat rolled her eyes in good-natured resignation. “Okay, so, why don’t you surprise him?”
Nadine grimaced. “Isn’t that the same as forcing money into his hand?”
“No,” Kat replied seriously. “It’s a gift.”
“Would you accept it?”
She hesitated.
Nadine sighed. “Yeah. That’s kind of my thought, too. I just—”
Across the small living room, a pop song blared to sudden life.
“Crap,” she said, scrambling to get to the her discarded purse in time. She fumbled through the deep orange pocket. “I knew I should have brought a different purse.”
“Your parents?”
Nadine nodded as she finally grabbed her crystal-studded case and accepted the call. “Hey, what’s up?” she asked, a little breathless from her scramble.
Her father’s tone was mild. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“No, Daddy, I just couldn’t find my phone in my purse.” She waved Kat away as her friend lifted her empty coffee cup, shaking her head in denial of a refill. “What’s going on?”
His pause was telling enough. She braced herself. “So, dinner tonight,” he began.
“Ohmigod.” She fell back onto the small paisley sofa. It was too small to sleep on comfortably, but it didn’t take up much room, either. She drew her bare feet up into the thick cushion. “Don’t tell me it’s another blind date?”
“I’m afraid so.” His amusement was tinged with resignation. “Can you make it?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Yes,” he said, but in the way that said the choice wo
uld include making it, or suffering the consequences.
Nadine grimaced. “Okay. Fine. What time should I be home?”
“Six.”
“Who’s the—” Client sounded dirty. “Uh, guy?”
“The son of one of your mother’s book circle friends.” He cleared his throat gingerly. “He’s, uh, a doctor.”
Nadine groaned. “Daddy.”
“I know, pumpkin. But he’s nice, he’s got a stable job, and he loves dogs.” His tone turned wry. “And if you don’t like him, he has a brother a year younger who’s the CEO of a PR firm. Your mom says he likes to cook on Saturdays.”
Ugh. She knuckled at her eyes, frustration clawing at her throat. If she gave voice to it, she knew without a shadow of a doubt that she’d spill Lucas’s name—who wasn’t a doctor, or the son of a multi-millionaire, or an optometrist, or anything else that her parents deemed ‘nice and well-to-do’. He was just a mechanic.
A guy with a bit of a colorful past.
Kat passed behind the love seat, bending to wrap her arms around Nadine’s shoulders. She didn’t say anything, she just rested her chin on top of Nadine’s head in silent comfort.
It was like she knew.
Nadine hunched into the wordless hug.
“Okay, Daddy,” Nadine said, sullen. “I’ll be there.”
Her mother’s voice cut through her dad’s amicable acknowledgement. “Where is she?”
“Ah, your mother wants to know—”
Kat leaned closer to the phone. “Hi, Mr. Sherwood!”
“You remember Kat, right?” Nadine asked.
“She’s with her friend,” her dad said away from the phone, then said into the line, “How is she?”
Nadine raised her eyebrows at Kat. Her friend winked and pulled a sorrowful face. “Better,” she said slowly. “But you know how it is.” Or maybe not. She’d never owned a pet before, didn’t even know if her parents liked animals. It had just never come up.
“Our condolences,” her dad replied, in the same tone that he’d used to ask where she was. Maybe he really didn’t know what it was like to lose a pet.