by Brook Greene
He notices it. “What?” he asks as he reaches for the key to start the engine. It purrs to life under us, and I have to admit, the smoothness of the sound makes me a little wet.
I collect myself and focus. “What exactly do you do for a living, Mr. Keagan?” I lift an eyebrow at him as I try to read him, but his stone features give nothing away. It’s like he’s trained his face to not show any emotion, aside from the satisfied smile he had given me when I’d first opened my front door, or the devilish way his eyes had devoured my body when he thought I wasn’t looking.
“I’m a partner in Knights Garage on the other side of town,” he says without a hint of humor, but I bust out laughing at the absurdity of his profession and the particular luxury vehicle we’re riding in at the moment. “What’s so funny?” His question is laced with annoyance.
“Forgive me, but I’ve never met a mechanic who could afford a car like this.” My bullshit radar is ringing like a five alarm fire bell at the moment, and the doubts I had earlier have now turned to dread that I have agreed to spend the evening with the biggest poser on the planet.
He falls silent, and I fear that I’ve taken my ribbing a little too far, as in I bruised his precious male ego. But I don’t care. I’m tired of men portraying themselves as something they’re not. I learned that lesson the hard way. I have no patience for a person who lies, and he’s done it twice since we walked out of my house.
“I’m good at investing,” he grumbles, never taking his eyes off the road ahead of us.
I turn in my seat with a disgusted look on my face. “You have got to be kidding me? Good at investing?” I turn back around in my seat with a huff, crossing my arms over my chest. “This was a really bad idea,” I mumble under my breath.
“And how’s that?” I turn to him in shock. He’d heard me. I didn’t think I said that out loud.
Confronted with my complaint, I can’t turn back now. “You’ve lied to me twice in the forty minutes since we’ve met. And forgive me, Matthew, I don’t think lying to your date is the best way get to know each other.” My body jerks in my seat as he whips the responsive car into a parking space, slamming the gearshift into park.
He reaches across my legs to the glove box. Clicking it open, he fumbles with its contents, then pulls out a little zippered book. Opening it, he hands me a piece of paper. “Here’s all the proof you need to know I haven’t fucking lied to you once.” His eyes narrow as he shoves the paper at me again. “Take it, then maybe you can pull that stick out of your ass and stop judging a person you don’t know, who has been nothing but overly polite to you.”
Shocked at the change in his demeanor and tone with me, I lift my shaking hand to take the paper from him. I turn it over in my hand to see it’s a vehicle registration for the car I’m sitting in, and it is in fact registered to a Jackson Matthew Keagan Jr. I look at him out of the corner of my eye and see he’s waiting for me to eat crow.
I turn, handing the paper back to him. “I’m sorry for accusing you of lying about the car, but I still find it hard to believe you’re an investing mechanic genius.” Why am I being so fucking difficult with him? He’s been nothing but nice to me, just as he pointed out. This is the first time in a long time a man has shown any interest in me, and I’m throwing shit in his face.
He shoves his fingers through his hair, blowing out a long breath in what I have no doubt is frustration. “If I didn’t lie to you about the car, why would I lie to you about what I do?” He turns to me and he captures me with his intense gaze. “If I were going to lie, why wouldn’t I tell you I was a doctor? How about a billionaire mogul of a company I built from nothing with my own two hands?” Even though his eyes are burning me from the inside out, his features are cold, and not giving away anything that’s going on with him under his cool exterior. “If it were my intention to just get into your pants, would those professions not seem more feasible to get you hot and bothered, along with a rented Mercedes?”
I feel like such a fool. Everything he’s said has more logic than any reasons I can come up with for why he would be lying to me. I cradle my face in my hands, feeling the embarrassment burning my face for the second time in this man’s presence. I give my head a good shake before lifting it up to find him. He’s still staring at me, waiting for words I can’t find.
I shrug my shoulders, then slump them in complete defeat. “If you want to call it off and take me home, I understand. Taking a raging bitch out to dinner is probably not something you had planned on. I’ll contact the charity and tell them it was me, and that you held up your end of the contract.” I pause, then finish up with the words I should’ve started with. “I’m sorry for accusing you of being a liar.”
He smiles at me—fucking smiles—and there are those damn dimples. “Good. Now that we have that out of the way.” He turns in his seat, shifts, then pulls the car back out into traffic. “Let’s eat. I’m starving.”
I look at him, confused. “You’re not mad or upset?” Which he has every right to be.
“No. The way I see it is that I stepped up to you, albeit your mother bought me last weekend. You had no idea. You have every right to be leery of me. You don’t know me from Adam. I would think you’re a bit naive had you not been a little suspicious of me.” He sounds proud of me for acting like a bitch to him and calling him on his shit. “I take it you’ve learned the hard way to be apprehensive of men.” It’s a statement, not a question, so I don’t acknowledge or answer it.
I clear my throat, wanting the silence I’ve imposed on us to be over. “Where are we eating tonight?”
“My favorite, Mariano’s.” He glances over at me for my reaction.
“Sounds good. I’ve not had the pleasure of eating there.” I’ve only been in town a few weeks. My mother had set up my job for me and made sure I had a roof over my head. Other than that, I’ve not done anything outside of those two things. Laying low had been my norm for several months now.
Looking very pleased with himself, he replies with, “Well, Tessa, I’m very happy I can help you out with that.”
“It’s actually my mother who’s helping us both out,” I say with a hint of a giggle I catch with my hand.
He returns the laugh. “Yeah, it is. By the way, can I ask your mother’s name?”
I look at him, again confused. “It wasn’t on the bidding slip?”
“No, the bid was anonymous.”
“It wasn’t too anonymous. You were provided with the address of where to pick me up,” I point out.
“Well, I did have to pick you up, but I wasn’t given any names.” He smiles over at me.
“What are you smiling at?”
“It was you, wasn’t it? You were the one who bid on me and now you’re blaming your poor dear mother for it.” His smile is devious, and it ruffles my feathers.
“No!” I object, completely appalled he would think such a thing. “I don’t even know where the charity event was held or when it was. Well, now I do since you told me. Plus, I had no clue who you were until you showed up on my doorstep.” I fumble over my words, trying to explain my ignorance in all this.
He shakes his head. “Sure, sure.” He’s ribbing me now.
“Are you calling me a liar, Matthew?” I throw his jab back at him.
He throws his head back, letting out a bark of deep laughter. “Not so fun, is it?”
I chew on my bottom lip. “No.” I guess this is where he serves up the crow for me to eat. “Touché, Matthew, touché.” I return his satisfied smile.
“So, do you have a last name, Tessa?” he asks, making me think back over the two introductions we went through and not once had I given him my surname.
What could it hurt for me to give him my name? It’s not like he’s going to do a background search on me.
Chapter Six
Matty Boy
I wait for her to answer my question, which is taking her longer than I would expect over a last name. Yes, I have reasons other than just wan
ting to know what it is. The way she’d reacted to my honest answers has me wondering about her more now and wanting to find out what this girl is all about.
She continues to chew on her lip, contemplating if she wants to tell me or not. “Tessa?” I prompt her.
“It’s Kelly. My name is Tessa Kelly.” It seems to pain her to admit that.
I guide the car into the lot beside the restaurant and find a place to park. I turn to her in my seat. “Well, Tessa Kelly, you are about to put some of the best Italian food ever made into your mouth,” I tell her before getting out and rounding the car to her door. Once she steps out, I shut and lock the car, then offer her my arm. “Shall we?” She takes it with a smile and I lead her to the front door.
It being Saturday night, the waiting room for a table is packed, but I called ahead and have reservations for the whole night if we choose to take that long. I lead her through the crowd to the concierge desk and clear my throat, getting the attention of the young girl standing behind it texting on her phone. She looks perturbed until she sees me.
“Mr. Keagan,” she gushes as her face breaks out into a wide smile. I hear Tessa scoff behind me, so I give her hand a squeeze to shut her up before I speak.
“Emma, I have a reservation for two.” She looks down, running her finger over the marked-up table layout on the podium.
“Yes, Mr. Keagan, right this way.” She grabs two menus, along with a wine list, then turns to make sure Tess and I are behind her.
She leads us to our table in the back and waits as I pull out Tessa’s chair for her before taking my own seat. She lays our menus down in front of us and hands me the wine list. “Your server will be with you in a few minutes, Mr. Keagan.”
I smile and nod to her. “Thank you, Emma.” She turns and looks back once over her shoulder before hurrying back up to her station.
“Awe, that’s so cute,” Tessa quips as she opens her menu with a shit-eating grin on her face. “I think she has a little bit of a crush on you, Mr. Keagan.” She looks at me, pursing her lips, then smiles wide.
I lean back in my chair. “Jealous?” I ask her, taking up my own menu.
She scoffs. “Hardly.” For some reason, her answer bothers me. “So I take it you come here a lot?” She waves her menu in the direction of Emma. “By her reaction, you seem to be a regular.”
“I am. Like I said, it’s my favorite.” I take a sip of the ice water that had been left on the table and study her over the rim of the glass. She blushes when she sees me staring at her. God, she’s a gorgeous, tiny thing. Her sleek blonde hair hangs loosely around her perfect small shoulders. The little black dress she’s wearing fits her curves like a glove, exposing just enough skin to make me want more, but covering her adequately, leaving a shit ton of her body to my dirty imagination. I lay my menu down on the table in front of me, still studying the woman sitting across from me. “So tell me, Tessa Kelly, what brings you to town?”
I watch as she slowly traces her index finger around her own water glass. The motion of her delicate finger has my cock coming to life and wanting to be encased in her small hand.
Her brow furrows. “I never told you I was new in town. How do you know I haven’t been here my whole life?” She looks at me, all cocky and shit.
I take another drink of my water and set it back on the table, matching her smug smile with one of my own. “I know you’re new to town because one,” I hold up my index finger on my right hand, “you have no fucking clue who I am. And number two,” I hold up the second finger, “I’ve never seen you before today, and believe me, if I had, I would’ve remembered it.”
She leans in on her side of the table, holding up her index finger, matching mine. “Number one, arrogant much? And number two, your deductive reasoning skills are impeccable.” She taps the pads of her fingers against mine. “Cheers.” She’s a feisty one, but I knew that from the moment she flung the door open on me. She’s setting a fire in places that have been cold and dark for a very long time in me. Being around her feels easy. Nothing feels forced or awkward, even though I was bought for her at an auction.
“Speaking of cheers…” I motion for our waiter who comes to a stop beside me. I look at Tessa. “Any preference on wine?”
She shakes her head no. “I’m not much of a wine drinker. I’m more of a whiskey bourbon type of girl.” She gestures to me. “But please, order me something that you think might change my mind.” Damn, she’s sexy with her sassy ass attitude and those plump red lips.
I order her a bottle of Tenuta dell'Ornellaia vintage, 2013. It’s a great blend of Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot from Tuscany, Italy. The waiter flitters off to retrieve the bottle as I settle back into my chair.
She looks at me curiously. “What kind did you get?” she asks, shielding her face with the menu. I can see the apples of her cheeks are flushed a nice red, like the wine I’d just ordered her. It’s nice to know I’m getting to her as much as she’s getting to me.
“A nice red blend from Italy.” The price of the bottle I’d just ordered is a little bit more expensive than what I usually get when I dine here, but I feel like she’s testing me, and I never fail. I reach across the table, plucking the menu from her hands. “Now tell me what brings you to town?”
“Circumstances that I don’t wish to discuss if you don’t mind.” Her tone is clipped, but her eyes betray the pain my question has brought up. I decide to drop it. I’ll find all that shit out later when I can get a call in to Eno.
I hold up my hands, palms out, surrendering on the topic, for now. “Okay, didn’t mean to pry.” I point to both menus lying in front of me. “Do you mind if I order for you? I know just the right food to pair with the wine,” I claim. I give her an easy smile, hoping to get back to the light banter we’d been sharing moments ago.
“Please,” she concedes with a weak smile. Whatever my question has brought up for her, she’s finding it hard to let go. Who the hell is this woman? And what the fuck is she running from?
I’ve had my share of damaged women in my bed and they’re all the same. They all get that same look in their eyes when their past slams into them, starting a flame not even the strongest of bourbon could put out, and I’ve just done that for Tessa.
I motion to the waiter once more and order our food, along with two Pappy’s on the rocks. Her eyes widen when she hears the drink order. “I hope you like Pappy.”
Looking very pleased, I watch as she runs her fingertips lightly around the strand of pearls around her delicate neck. “I’ve never had it, but I’ve always heard that it’s a wonderful bourbon.”
“That, it is. Some of the best and hardest to get.” She seems to be coming out of the fog of her past now.
She clears her throat and sits up a little straighter. “So, Matthew, have you lived here your whole life?” She seems to be more comfortable shifting the topic of conversation to me, and I’ll give her that. She deserves it since I went and dug something up for her she seems to be trying her best to bury.
“No—” I start, just as the waiter brings the two ice filled tumblers with the amazing amber liquid in them. He sets them on the table, gives us a nod and removes himself once more. “I’m from a town two hours south of here.” I take up the tumbler sitting in front of me, gesturing with it for her to do the same. I clink her glass with mine, giving her a genuine smile that she returns. “Cheers.”
“Cheers,” she returns, and I watch as she raises the glass to her lips, taking the first sip. Her face flushes and her eyes sparkle. “Oh my God, that is so good.” She looks at the glass, and then to me.
Her smile makes my heart twist in my chest, and it has me wanting to make her do it more. This woman is hypnotizing me with her hot and cold, rough and soft, but mostly with the innocence she seems to be letting slip around her carefully built walls.
“It’s the best I’ve had. I’m sure there are more expensive, better distilled bourbons, but this one,” I say as I hold up my tumbler to the light, turning
it in my hand, “is my favorite.”
She takes another sip, slowly letting it slide down her throat. “So, since you’re not from here, how did you end up here?” She swirls the liquid in her glass.
“After I graduated from college I joined the military and was assigned to a unit where I met a bunch of hometown high school best friends.” I stop, taking another drink. “So when we served our time and were discharged, I followed them back here.”
“How long were you in the military?” she asks. I’m glad she didn’t linger on the college years and went straight to what everybody went to, my service years.
“Long enough to know I was ready to get out when they released me.”
I’m pleased she accepts my explanation, but I can see the curiosity in her eyes. I expect her to google me when she gets home tonight, much like I’m going to do to her, but I’ll be doing more than googling her. But, unlike me, she’ll find nothing.
“And you’ve been a mechanic since then?” She finishes off the last of her liquor and I gesture to the waiter for two more.
“Yes.” It’s a half-truth, not the full truth because let’s face it, I can’t tell her everything I’ve been doing since I’ve been Stateside, now can I? “We opened up a security business a few years ago too,” I add.
I watch her as the waiter sets another tumbler full of Pappy down in front of us. I toast her once more before taking another sip.
She does the same then sets the glass down, leveling her eyes across the table at me. “You know, one would think you’re trying to get me drunk with this.” She points an accusatory finger at the glass.
“No, I’m not. I’m trying to loosen you up a little bit though. Remember that stick we talked about earlier? I think it’s working its way out.” I smile at her before I take a big gulp. She stays silent, and I can see she’s fighting a smile from breaking free. “What? No snappy comeback? I told you it was working.”