Love Garage

by Liz Crowe

  Once they got the kitchen back in order, their father came in, ate something, and took a shower then sat in his recliner, clutching a cup of coffee and staring into it. “Need to spell Rosie. Antony’s headed over, too. You all keep things together here.”

  ”Sorry, Pops, I’ve got a hot date.” Dom emerged from the downstairs bathroom rubbing his hair with a towel. “I have Monday and Tuesday with Mama.”

  Anton pinched his nose. “Good Lord Almighty, son, I don’t need your swingin’ dick in my face. Get some clothes on.” He sighed. “Docs are saying we might have her back home by Tuesday.”

  Aiden stayed quiet, watching a late season Reds game without really seeing it.

  “You gonna ever publish that novel, Aiden?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, sipping lemonade. “It’s sort of back burnered now.”

  “Huh. Sounds like an excuse to me.”

  He studied his father, shocked by the comment, but not terribly surprised. Anton Love never expected less than one-hundred percent from his children, whether at school, in their athletic endeavors, or in terms of a tidy bedroom and a mowed lawn. “Can’t never did do nothin’,” was a many time stated and much hated phrase of his.

  “Maybe.” He wondered where this conversational line had come from. “I should tweak it some. Just go ahead and send it out to agents. My advisory board hated it though. Not terribly encouraging.” Unwilling to tread too far into that minefield with his father, Aiden left it at that.

  “Well, at least now you’ll be making money teaching the next generation how to write shitty books, eh?” Anton got up and stretched.

  Aiden was struck by how old his father seemed then. A strange sort of terror gripped his chest. “Something like that.” He knew better than to say more. His dad did not do well alone. He drew a lot of his strength from his wife. Holding it together by a thin string, worried sick about Lindsay, unable to focus on his brewery, all combined to make him more of a hard-ass than usual. “Still working with Antony though, three days a week.”

  “Good thing. You’ll need a real job to fall back on.” He patted Aiden’s shoulder. “It’s good to have you home where you belong. I’ll be in tomorrow.”

  Aiden couldn’t think of anything useful to say before his father left the house. He stretched out on the couch then woke on the floor, with the front door open revealing Rosalee, her face streaked with tears.

  “Where’s Jeffrey?” she asked, dragging him to his feet.

  “Uh, asleep? What time is it?”

  “Aiden….” She pulled him closer.

  “What?” He gripped her arms. Her eyes were half open. “Come on.” He tried to guide her toward the steps.

  Rosalee nearly collapsed against him as Aiden fought the urge to pick her up. He had no idea what had happened, but hurt, fury, and exhaustion rolled off her in waves.

  “He…he….” She gripped the back of his shirt. “He was…with her.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” She clung to him so tightly, he had to grab her arms and peel her off so he could hear her. He had an idea what she was talking about, though.

  “That therapist. Margot.” Rosalee stepped back, rubbing her arms. “Her. Antony was….” To Aiden’s surprise, the one woman on the planet he would never expect to be jealous of anything, or anyone, screamed like a banshee and stomped into the kitchen, leaving him slack-jawed in her wake.

  She drank water and he waited, unable to fathom what she must have seen. The tickle of guilt blossomed into a spike of pain in his gut over what he wanted to do—shit, what he’d done—with Rosie. “You must have imagined it. Antony would never—I mean, you’re tired and stressed out and….”

  “Shut up, Aiden. You weren’t there. You didn’t see what I saw.” She whirled on him. “This is my fault. I brought this on by screwing around with you!”

  “No, no, no, it’s not that.” He took a few steps closer, itching to get his arms around her, to comfort at least. But she dodged past him, and they switched positions in the room. He heated up at the thought Antony would do anything to hurt Rosalee, even as his logical brain rejected that entire concept.

  To his horror, she collapsed in on herself like a wilting flower, sliding down the kitchen wall in tears. Brain spinning, he hesitated then walked over and tugged her to her feet.

  “My fault,” she kept saying, even as he took her chin, tilted it up, and kissed her.

  With a sigh, she wrapped her arms around his neck and met him halfway for a few seconds. Despite the weirdness of the moment, he wanted nothing more than to just be here, with her. As he moved his hand down her back, a slamming door made them leap apart. She nodded at his tented shorts so he grabbed the first thing he could find to cover it.

  “Nice apron, Julia Child.” Dom sauntered into the kitchen wearing a smirk.

  “What are you doing here?” Aiden backed away, hoping to escape, and pissed off Dominic had chosen that night to hover around the Love family homestead.

  Rosalee smoothed her hair and wiped her lips, her gaze anywhere but on him. Dom took a cola from the fridge, popped it open, and drank half of it before setting it down and appraising the two of them, a knowing gleam in his eye.

  “I’m here to get Jeffrey and take him home,” Rosalee blurted.

  “Stay here,” Aiden said to her, then locked eyes with Dom. “I’m going to talk to Antony. He’s still at the hospital, right?”

  “Yeah.” Rosalee wore a defeated expression. “But the good news is your Mama is rallying, big time. She’ll probably come home by Tuesday.”

  “Great,” Aiden muttered, resolved as he untied the silly apron, hoping his boner had gone down enough not to show. “I’m still going there. Now. You should just stay here. Crawl in bed with Jeffrey. He’s in the back bedroom.”

  Dom gave him a high eyebrow as he pushed past. After he found a clean shirt in the laundry and pulled it over his head, he tried to ignore the buzzing in his ears. A strange sort of fury he had no decent explanation for gripped him hard. Grabbing his mother’s car keys, he headed out, driving the twenty minutes to the suburban hospital with all the windows open, fingers tapping the steering wheel.

  Chapter Sixteen

  He hadn’t known what to expect, but finding his mother wide awake, smiling, and sipping ginger ale at two in the morning, surrounded by Anton, Antony, and Margot, had not been among the options. When they all looked up at him as he pushed open the door, the spit dried up in his mouth. He had no business getting into this.

  Then again, he had even less business kissing his brother’s fiancée. He gulped, and pasted on a smile. “Just wanted to see the miracle for myself.” He walked over to kiss his mother’s thinning hair. Trying to get the adrenaline-fueled trembling in his knees to stop, he lost the battle and grabbed a chair to hide it.

  Antony moved ever so slightly away from the tall, blonde, exceedingly attractive Margot the Therapist. “Is Rosie out—”

  Aiden interrupted him. “No. She came to the house.” He kept his voice light and his gaze on his mother and tried not to let his dismay at the sight of her thin, sunken-in face show too obviously. “Do you mind if I talk to Antony a sec, Mama?”

  She smiled and patted his hand. “No. He and Margot were just keeping me company. I’m trying to get your daddy to go home and rest.”

  “Okay, I’ll drag him with me in a few minutes. Antony? A word?”

  Antony narrowed his eyes before glancing at Margot then back at him. The man’s face was one of pure deer in the headlights. Aiden had to repress the urge to tease him, or laugh like an idiot.

  Has Antony, the moody, self-declared bachelor, now betrothed to his dead best friend’s widow, fallen for the very pretty preacher-lady-therapist? Now? Dear Jesus, what a mess.

  Aiden led the way out into the hall. He waited until Antony had joined him in the empty family lounge, kicked the door shut with his foot then grabbed the older, bigger man by the collar and shoved him up against the wall, catching Anton
y off guard. His stunned expression made irrational giggles rise in Aiden’s throat, but he fought them back.

  “What the hell are you doing to Rosalee, hmm, big bro?”

  His face darkened in a way Aiden would normally run away from. Instead, he tightened his grip and shoved his face way up in Antony’s grill. “I mean it. I won’t let you hurt her just because you’ve got the hots for the preacher lady. That’s pretty much not allowed anyway, I don’t think—fucking your therapist.”

  Antony shoved him hard, so hard Aiden spun backward and tripped over a chair, landing on his hip, before scrambling back to his feet.

  “You’re an idiot.” His brother loomed over him. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh, really? Well then, maybe you can tell me why your fiancée ran to our parents’ house in tears over finding you here with…her…doing…I don’t know what, I couldn’t get that out of her.” Aiden rose slowly, chest heaving.

  “What? Rosie saw…I mean…there’s not anything to…fuck!” Antony raked his fingers though his hair and stared out the latticed window into the darkened hallway. Aiden grabbed the back of a chair. “She couldn’t see anything because there wasn’t anything to see, I swear it.” Antony turned back to face him.

  Aiden nodded, willing to accept that there had not been, at least, not yet.

  “Margot just came up to spell me actually. I had a shit day at the garage, had to fire Ben. You were off today. I had…she is….” Antony’s dark eyes were wild with anxiety. “I can’t lose Rosie, Aiden. I can’t let that happen.”

  Aiden closed his eyes a split second, unwilling to recall the taste of Rosalee’s lips, not an hour ago.

  This is a disaster in the making, Aiden Love. And you are in the middle of it. Best get the hell out now.

  “I’ll go get her. I’ll explain.” Antony dropped into a seat.

  “Okay, listen.” He attempted to rally his inner, not-obsessed-with-Rosalee, smart guy. “I think I get it. Rosalee’s overtired. She saw something, misinterpreted it, and got her back up. I just wanted to find out for myself from you.”

  Antony groaned and kept his eyes on the floor. “I do love her,” he declared into his palms.

  “I’m sure you do.” Aiden headed for the door, wondering how in the world this could possibly resolve well for anyone concerned. Antony grabbed his hand, jerking him back. “Hey!”

  “I know what you want, Aiden.” Antony’s low, menacing tone gave him a brief chill. “I’m not an idiot. I have eyes. And you need to understand one thing.”

  He jerked out of Antony’s grip and crossed his arms over his chest, hoping the other man couldn’t hear his heart pounding. “I understand everything I need to.”

  Antony rose, using his six-inch-height advantage to tower over Aiden. “I know you’re sniffing around my woman. And whatever this bullshit confrontation might be about, you better get it through your head now—Rosalee Norris is mine. There is nothing going on with me and anyone, but her. Keep your dirty paws to yourself.”

  Aiden shrugged out from under the heavy hand on his shoulder. “You’re crazy,” he muttered, needing to get out of there, and already calculating how he could afford his own apartment sooner rather than later.

  Opening the door, he spotted his father, standing with his arms crossed, observing them. Aiden shrugged and tried to arrange his face in calm lines. Anton frowned at him then at his oldest son, who glared at Aiden.

  “I don’t know what you boys are fussin’ over, but I’ll tell you now, it had better not be what I think it is. Go home,” he told Antony. “Sounds like you need to be there. Your mama’s good. She’s gone back to sleep.”

  “Where’s—”

  Anton clenched his jaw. “Your therapist lady left, and said to tell you she’d see you Tuesday. At your session with AliceLynn.”

  Antony seemed to deflate a little at that. But then he squared his shoulders. “I need to go see Rosalee.” He shoved past them. “I’ll talk more with you later,” he muttered under his breath to Aiden.

  “Go on, son.” Anton yawned and stretched. “I’ve got this tonight.”

  Aiden arrived back at his parent’s house about ten minutes behind Antony, but sat in the car awhile, gripping the wheel.

  No more. No more. Stay away from her. It’s not good and it’s causing more trouble than anyone needs.

  He finally climbed out and trudged up the walk. Dom’s car sat in the drive, along with Rosalee’s and, of course, Antony’s truck. Exhaustion blinded him by the time he hit the side door into the mudroom. The kitchen and the family room were dark.

  He drank some water then headed for the steps up to the bedroom hall, his heart heavy and his head fuzzy. After brushing his teeth, he stumbled toward an empty bedroom when he heard Antony’s voice.

  “Marry me, marry me now, Rosalee. I don’t want to wait anymore. I can’t stand it.”

  Aiden froze. Unable to make out her words, he tiptoed closer to his parent’s bedroom. The door gaped open enough for him to see Rosalee sitting on the edge of the bed, Antony on his knees in front of her, gripping her hands. Her thick curls curtained her face so Aiden couldn’t see her eyes. But he saw Antony’s, and the intensity in them.

  “We need your mama to get better first. She can’t be—”

  Antony slid his hands around her back and kissed her then, gently at first. When she made that small noise down her throat that Aiden had heard so many times it made him nuts, he had to step back to keep from barging in and telling them this whole thing had to stop—that Antony wanted to deny his feelings for someone else by diving in headfirst with the woman everyone expected him to marry. And that Rosalee wanted him, Aiden, not Antony.

  God, man, what are you, a romance novelist? Cut the crap and leave it alone.

  He took a long breath then peeked in again. Antony’s head lay on Rosalee’s lap. She ran her fingers through his hair.

  “It will be fine, honey. Just a simple misunderstanding. I know that now.”

  “I would never hurt you, Rosie. Never, ever.” Antony touched a finger to her lips.

  She gave him a weak smile and nodded. “I know.”

  He laid his head in her lap again, and she rested her hand on his hair. Aiden moved so he stood directly in her line of sight on purpose, for reasons he couldn’t have articulated, even if pressed. She caught his eye and shook her head. “Let’s move the date up.” She spoke to Antony while looking right at Aiden. “You’re right. We shouldn’t wait. No reason to.”

  He had to bite his tongue to keep from protesting, and had to watch as she turned Antony’s face up and cradled it between her hands. “So, let’s talk about December, instead of a June wedding.”

  He nodded, cupped a hand behind her neck, and kissed her. Aiden slumped against the wall outside his old bedroom, chest tight, but head clear for the first time since he’d laid eyes on Rosalee Norris at Love Garage. Serenaded by the sounds of kissing advancing to more, and yet more, he ducked into his old room and shut the door.

  “I told you not to go there,” Dom whispered in the darkened room they’d once shared, and now would again, until their mother returned home.

  “Fuck off,” he muttered, flopping down onto the twin bed he’d occupied every night for the majority of his life to that point.

  “Buck in the swear jar,” Dom said, with a yawn.

  “Whatever.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  October

  Aiden made a valiant attempt to focus on the words coming out of the female mouth across from him. Instead of giving away his newfound habit of drifting off and pondering Rosalee while with Renee, he sipped his wine and nodded, hoping that would suffice for a response.

  “You didn’t hear a word I said, did you?” Renee picked up her fork and speared a cherry tomato in a way that made it clear she wished it were one of his balls.

  Desperate to make amends and not sleep alone that night, he reached across the small table, using his best Aiden pup
py-dog eyes to get her to soften. She held the tomato to her lips and glared at him then blew out a breath and put the fork down so she could take his hand. Her smile made his chest loosen ever so slightly.

  “Sorry, Renee. Just have a lot on my mind is all.” He squeezed her palm, allowed his finger to trace the inside of her wrist then let go.

  “Did you submit to those agents yet?” She placed the tomato between her teeth and commenced chewing, as if pondering its future nutritional value. Eating slowly, one miniscule bite at a time kept her figure, she claimed. It drove him crazy, but he figured it for a small thing to tolerate, in exchange for her other charms.

  “Yeah.” He frowned down at the plate of food he didn’t remember ordering. “Sent out ten more yesterday. It’s hopeless.”

  “Oh, honey, no, it’s not.” Her eyes brightened as she sipped her wine. “It’s a lovely story, at least the bits I read.”

  Aiden pushed the sea scallops around on his plate. She’d read about three chapters of it, after begging him one morning, post-second threesome of his life then set it down and declared it “perfect.”

  “How would you even know?” he’d asked, miffed that she’d stopped.

  “I just do. It would be even better if you had more sex in it though.” She’d been lolling around on her couch, wearing nothing but that short, silky robe at the time.

  “More sex? Renee, it’s a story about a family of brothers. Not incest.” A tiny bit of misplaced superiority had crept in then. This, coming from a woman whose favorite books bore covers of shirtless men with impossibly perfect abs, had caused a thrill of irritation to shoot down his spine.

  “No, no, I mean the guys…they’re a little…I don’t know, not like real men, you know, in the real world I mean. They’re sort of, I don’t know, insufferably perfect. Getting all mad at each other when one of them does something not perfect. And that father…he’s just way too stupid to live.”

  Aiden had spluttered and self-justified it, calling it “literary fiction,” not “pulp for the masses.” She’d smacked his ass and told him not to be a snob. Something about her then, the tousled, well-fucked, older woman, lounging on her couch after a night of the sort of debauchery that would have made a central theme of one of her favorite novels, made him so horny he’d picked her up, tossed her over his shoulder, and made her squeal with pleasure for another few minutes. That had been the end of the book talk. But she reminded him daily about his goal to send it out to agents. Not to let it sit and rot on his computer, forgotten and unloved by anyone.