by A. M. Mahler
She looked up, surprised. “Really? A good-looking guy like you? I’d have thought you had tons of friends and a different girlfriend for each night.”
Wow. Was that the vibe I gave off?
“No, Sorry. Not a man whore. Furthest thing from it.” But let’s focus on the fact that she thought I was good-looking.
She lifted her shoulder again and popped another fry in her mouth. “See? That’s how much I socialized growing up and even now.”
“Maybe you feel more comfortable talking to me because you grew up surrounded by men. Are you and Jamie the only female employees that work for Willis-Reilly?”
“Two in the accounting department are women,” she said. “But they don’t come out of their workspace. The garage is too noisy for them. They have like white noise and stuff playing in their soundproof room. I guess I’m just used to hearing the sounds of garages.”
“And the men around here?”
“Oh, they don’t even notice me.” I highly doubted that. She went back to her burger. “They’re all in love with Jamie.” Not me. I’ve fallen into ... something ... with this woman.
“I think you underestimate your appeal,” I blurted out. Her eyes snapped up to mine and widened. Then she grabbed her glass and chugged her beer. Watching her throat bob with each gulp, I couldn’t look away. Wow. She was really going for it.
When she put her glass down, she stared at the table and swallowed hard. But you couldn’t chug a beer like that without—
Her eyes popped wide and her cheeks colored when a large, unladylike belch escaped her lips and she slapped a hand over her mouth.
Damn. This chic was all that. She was mortified, but I was charmed.
My mother was going to love her.
Maggie
I
could never, ever tell Jamie the story of that lunch from hell. I babbled on about myself like some kind of lunatic and then belched like a college freshman. All Jamie’s work spiffing me up was completely unraveled inside of an hour. I spent my life surrounded by men yet couldn’t seem to interact with them on anything but a professional level. My limited sexual experience had been as awkward as I was. I’d had to be lubed up pretty good beforehand—and by that, I meant half-way to drunk. You’d think by this point, I’d understand men—that I would know the way they think. But it wasn’t so. I talked with the guys at work, but it was all about engines and torque.
I had just been faced with a man that made my body hum, and he probably thought I was crazy. But there was something about the way he looked at me that made me think maybe ...
Shaking my head, I leaned back over my drafting desk. Today, I was back to the normal me—glasses, hair a mess after I pulled it back up as soon as my office door was closed. I left the flannel shirt Jamie hated at home today in favor of my Willis-Reilly Racing hoodie. The main lights in the building were dim, meaning there were no more mechanics working in the bays—though it was likely my brother was still down there. We lived in a safe town—hell, the chief of police was literally fifty yards away—but my brother would never leave me here alone. He was a mechanic, too. He knew just as much about cars and engineering as I did, but he was happy being under the hood. When I got hired, I worked out a package deal. My brother and I were close. He’s older than me by two years, but he has always looked out for me.
That’s probably why none of the guys here had ever asked me out. They must be afraid of Jesse. That on top of my normal lack of appeal, and I was destined to be an old maid.
My ear buds were in as I drafted, and the classic sounds of Johnny Cash filled my head. Colton-freaking-Donavan was coming in two weeks, and I wanted my design to be flawless. I was a woman in a man’s field, and though I was the best at what I did, I still struggled to be taken seriously by anyone that didn’t work for WRR. I knew that Colton and his crew chief, Beckett, knew everything there was to know about racing and Indy cars, but there were hundreds of differences between Indy cars and stock cars. I knew everything there was to know about stock cars and the requirements and updates set out every year by the racing commission. I had even consulted for the commission. I was happy right where I was, but I routinely got poaching calls from other teams and companies.
I was loyal, though. I was loyal to a ghost but still loyal. Jimmy Reilly was the first man other than my father and brother to take me seriously. His daughter, Jackie, was more of a silent partner other than when she tested the cars for us and got out of the machine with a mouthful of opinions. But she was an extension of him, and she was keeping his dream alive, a dream I always wanted to be a part of.
A Styrofoam tray of wings and a side salad slid along a part of my desk I currently had deactivated. When I looked up, I wasn’t surprised—but just a tiny bit, okay a lot—disappointed that it was Jesse and not Simon. It’s just as well. After my embarrassing performance at lunch the other day, I had been trying to avoid coming face-to-face with His Hotness. I’ve been failing miserably. He was everywhere. He was trying to learn the ins and outs of everything so he could get a vision for the website and other social media. Did the guy even know he had a desk?
Sitting up and stretching out my back, I turned on my exercise ball and faced the male version of me. The girls went nuts for my brother. Even Jamie once spent time panting after him. He had the same shade of brown hair and eyes as me, but he wore his cut close to his scalp. He was tatted up and had sleeves of ink that covered hard muscles. And I knew his t-shirt was hiding a chest and back of more tattoos. He spent a lot of time on maintenance of his body and the women noticed it. He was as meticulous in taking care of his physique as he was in tending to his 1969 Mustang. Me, I was a yoga girl. One hour in the morning, and I was good. I don’t know why sweat had to get involved with exercise. Jamie liked to run, but that seemed ... stupid.
I sat in lotus pose and perfectly balanced on my exercise ball—thank you very much, yoga. Resting my dinner in my lap, I dove into the salad first. My brother dropped down onto a loveseat that was crammed into my office, propped his dinner on his lap, rested his feet on the little table in front of the couch, and picked up my remote control, pointing it at the ridiculously large flat screen TV on my office wall. Ryan hadn’t bought this stuff. Jesse had. He had also put a bigger fridge in here, along with a microwave and extra clothes in my small wardrobe. Make no mistake, this was definitely our office. It didn’t bother me one bit. He usually set the sound on the television on low. I worked with my ear buds in, and he never brought any of the other mechanics in. If he distracted me in any way at all, I’d kick him out. And he knew it.
“No date tonight?” I asked, shoveling a plastic forkful of salad into my mouth. He shook his head. “What happened to what’s-her-name?” That might have sounded bitchy of me, but I really didn’t bother learning the names. He never kept them around.
“Lacy ... no, Stacy. Wait, Shannon,” he said. And this was why I didn’t bother. “Her eyes were too close together.”
“You’re such an asshole.” I chastised him, but I knew it wouldn’t do any good. “Was she nice? Funny? Smart?”
He shrugged. “She was okay. She didn’t do it for me.”
“Not a wildcat in bed?”
“Didn’t sleep with her.” He focused on his Styrofoam tray in his lap. The man was tunnel-visioned when food was in front of him. I put down the chicken wing I just picked up and cocked my head to the side. This was not how he operated with women. When the silence stretched, he looked up at me. “What?”
Shaking my head, I picked my wing back up. “That doesn’t sound like you.”
He shrugged. “She has a kid. Somehow, it seemed, I don’t know, wrong. I wasn’t looking for anything. I may like sex, but at least I make sure the woman’s going into it with no expectations of any kind of commitment.”
“You’re such a romantic.” I bit into my wing. It occurred to me that maybe my brother’s horndog ways were affecting my love life. Maybe I had trouble relating to men because the closest man in
my life was only after the great “one thing.” That was interesting. And worth pondering more.
“So, this is your Friday night then?” I asked, licking sauce from my fingers. “Watching your sister work? You can go. I’m not afraid of the boogie man, just set the alarm so I know if anyone comes in.”
Jesse shook his head and picked up his beer. “The new guy is still here, and I don’t have a read on him yet.”
“Simon? Simon’s still here?” I tried not to sound excited or, you know, desperate, but my brother knew me too well.
“You like that guy?” he asked, and my eyes did a quick slide to the door to make sure Simon wasn’t standing in it. “He’s so ... clean. His clothes look expensive, so put together. I’d figure him more of Jamie’s type than yours.”
My body tensed, and I felt my jaw tighten. An odd feeling settled in my belly—it was almost like dread or ... no. Was this ... was this what jealousy felt like? I knew Jamie thought Simon was hot. I couldn’t compete with her. Quite frankly, I wasn’t interested in trying. Maybe when I thought he was interested in me at lunch, he was really trying to get an in with Jamie.
But then again, our boss forced us into lunch together. So, it made sense that he was just being nice.
My dinner sat heavy in my stomach, and I picked up my beer and chugged. I was in no way embarrassed around my brother when I belched. These were the things I could do around him.
No longer in the mood to work, I powered down my desk and joined my brother on the couch. Having ditched the boots a while ago, I propped my bare feet up next to his sneakers. He already changed out of his coveralls and into jeans and a Mavs t-shirt. We’ve always been Mavs fans, but since moving here, he had somehow ingratiated himself into Zach Porter’s inner circle. It wasn’t hard to do, really. Zach loved Over the Hop. My brother loved Over the Hop. It was a match made in beer heaven. I didn’t mention any of that to Simon though. Once I found out he was a Mavs fan, I thought it best to downplay how well I know Zach, which isn’t as well as my brother, but we’ve been known to throw back a few.
I dropped my head to my brother’s shoulder and stared aimlessly at the baseball game on TV while I ate my dinner and drank my beer. We’d be much more comfortable at one of our apartments, but this was where we landed—at least until the dinner ran out.
After an inning, Simon appeared in the doorway. He arched a brow when he saw us on the small couch. “Burning the midnight oil?” he asked.
“Just finishing dinner,” I said, sitting up. Simon looked curiously at my brother, who gave him a half wave in acknowledgement. Simon nodded in return. They had probably met. Only twenty people worked in this building. WRR had a different facility for the race team that had its own set of mechanics, drivers, and pit crew that worked closer to the speedway. Most teams were based in North Carolina, but everything about WRR was different.
As Simon stood there, I perused his body. After a full day of work, he looked as fresh as he did when he came in this morning. A twinge of sadness filled my chest as I realized he wasn’t for me. He was for Jamie. They’d make a beautiful couple, and they’d have beautiful babies. And I’d stand to the side pretending to be happy for them. In my sadness, I dropped my head back down to my brother’s shoulder for comfort. I didn’t realize I was lonely until I met Simon. We spent an hour together over beer and burgers, and I was already mourning the loss of him. Maybe I’d head down to the animal shelter this weekend and get a new friend.
Simon cleared his throat, and I looked back up at him. “Well, I just wanted to make sure you weren’t going to be here alone. You look well taken care of, so good night.”
“Good night,” I replied with a heavy sigh.
“See ya,” my brother added.
After Simon disappeared from the doorway, I stood up to throw away the remnants of my dinner and down the rest of my beer. I might as well head home, too, and start researching cats. I’ve never had a pet before. Our lifestyle growing up literally didn’t have room for a pet. Ryan often brought his dog to work, and his brother, Ethan, never went anywhere without his dog. So maybe I could be that way, too.
“Mags, what just happened?” My brother asked as I started to pack up my tablet to take home.
“What do you mean?”
“Your mood just totally went down the shitter.” That was my brother. Always so classy. “He looked seriously into you. And I think he got the wrong idea about you and me, which is totally disgusting.”
I waved my hand and slung my backpack over my shoulder. “He’s Jamie’s.” But if he was Jamie’s, what was I supposed to do with this warmth that was still running through my body after just seeing him? Was that just going to always be with me?
My brother leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You realize you just fucked with his head, right?”
What? “Uh, no.”
“Mags, he walks in and your head is on my shoulder. Then you sit up and give him your full attention like he’s the only guy in the room, and then you cuddle down into my shoulder again.”
Cocking my head to the side, I furrowed my brow. “That’s a mixed signal?”
Jesse ran a hand down his face. “Forget it.” Standing up, he picked up his trash from dinner and tossed it in the garbage. “I got friends who have to beat men away from their sisters with a bat. My sister sends them running all on her own.”
Zipping up my hoodie, I slid my feet into my flip flops.
“I don’t understand.”
He stared at me for a moment, and I knew he was trying to figure me out.
“Never mind,” he said. “I’m out of beer, and the store’s closed now. Let’s stop at the Hop and fill some growlers then go back to your place.”
Stopping in the doorway, I turned to him as he shut off my office light.
“You say that, but then you meet a girl, and I’m on my own.”
“I’m not in the mood for that tonight,” he said, slinging an arm over my shoulder. “I’ll stick with my sis.”
Yup, I’ve heard that one before.
Simon
I
got the distinct impression that Maggie did not have a boyfriend. Okay, so she didn’t actually say she was single, but I just got that kind of vibe. That guy in her office was one of the mechanics, and they definitely looked cozy.
And whoa with the crazy mixed signals. Any other girl, I’d let it go and chalk it up to Cupid’s misfire. I had no idea if she was worth this confusion and frustration. I mean, I didn’t know her all that well, but my gut told me she was worth it. When she looked at me with those wide, expressive eyes, I didn’t care who that guy was. They could just be good friends or something. Maybe he was that one friend she talked about.
As I pulled to the end of the dirt road WRR was on, the hospital was to my left, and Over the Hop was directly in front of me. As had been my new routine, I pulled straight across the street and into the parking lot. These guys fed me both lunch and dinner. I didn’t have my nephews to keep me active anymore, so I was going to have to find a new form of exercise or I would start putting on weight at an alarming rate.
My mother didn’t raise slugs. I could cook. I could fend for myself just fine, but my apartment was so empty. There was no laughter, no little boys raising a ruckus, no fighting, and no, well, anybody. You’d think that was an introvert’s dream, right, but somehow, it wasn’t. I hadn’t finished unpacking yet. The space might have felt more like home if I put out the pictures, books, and other things that represented me. But I wasn’t sure if I was ready for it to be home.
And if that was the case, I had no business pursuing Maggie.
When I walked into the rustic brewery, the dinner crowd was mostly cleared out. Only bar patrons were left. People sat scattered around at the tables or high tops. I was told it was a lot busier in here when the ski resort was open, but the summer was kicking off now. There were maybe two dozen people in here at most. A lone man sat at the bar watching the baseball game. I thought that was a
nice way to spend the evening, so I headed up there and took a stool two over from him.
The bartender, Laurie, came over to help. She was a short brunette with a kicking body and sass from here to eternity. I found out my first night in town that she was part owner of the bar with her brother and cousin. She knew all the locals and what they liked to eat and drink. She was whip-smart, too. Her sexy curves added to her stunning face. Visually speaking, a guy could just look at this girl all night and be happy as a clam.
But she didn’t do it for me either.
Stopping in front of me, she leaned her elbows on the bar and was just about to greet me when the guy next to me let out a loud, “Fuck!” Laurie looked over to him then up at the television where the pitching coach and team manager were making their way out to the mound. This pitcher was done. Quite frankly, I couldn’t even understand why the Mavericks were playing him so much. He was a firecracker—explosive in the first few innings then fizzling out fast.
“I told you,” Laurie said to him. “Your boy McClaren just doesn’t have it this year. He’s too undisciplined.”
“And I told you he does,” the man replied, turning back to face the front of the bar and watching the television straight overhead, also showing the Mav’s game.
“I don’t know.” I jumped into the conversation because ... baseball. “He’s young. His splitter is sneaky as fuck, but when he gets tired, he’s all over the place. He never lasts more than four innings.”
Laurie gestured to me with her hand palm up. “See? They all can’t be Zach Porter.”
“That’s the fucking truth,” I said, taking a sip of my beer.
“Not everybody can be as lucky as me,” the other guy said.
I spit my beer out, narrowly missing Laurie’s face. The other guy looked over at me with an arched brow and dammit to hell, it was Zach Porter. Baseball legend. Coldest fucking pitcher I ever did see. I concentrated fully on setting my beer back down and dropping my hands into my lap, clasping them together to stop their shaking. My whole body started to tremble. Looking down, I focused on my beer and tried to will my body to be cool.