Zero to Sixty

by Marie Harte

“Stop thinking so hard. It’s just a beer. Relax.”

  “I know that.”

  “So why are you so nervous?”

  “I’m not.”

  “Bull.”

  “She’s a nice woman,” he admitted. “I don’t have a great track record with nice. Not that it matters, since we’re not dating.”

  “You spoke with her for how long and you know everything about her already? Maybe she’s secretly bitchy and not nice at all.”

  She had put up an attitude when he’d questioned her about the dog. But when she’d looked at Cookie, when she’d petted him, he’d seen her heart in her eyes.

  Sam scowled. “She’s not bitchy. Don’t ask me how I know. I just know.”

  “Fine. But check out the dog.” Foley pointed to Cookie, staring at the mess he’d left. “He’s as sweet and innocent as they come. Dumb animals seem to love you, and they can sense evil.”

  “Up yours.”

  “Hey, look at it this way. I doubt Ivy will throw up her food while you’re out tomorrow.”

  They watched as Cookie stepped closer to his regurgitated chow and sniffed. Then he leaned nearer and…

  Foley made a face. “Though if she eats her own puke, that might be a sign to dump her.”

  “You think?”

  * * *

  Foley watched Sam clean up the mess on the floor. He took the dog out for a walk. When he returned, he went to bed, the tired pooch snoozing in his big arms.

  After cleaning the few dishes and wiping down their already-clean counters, Foley turned in early as well. It had been a long day, and he already missed Cyn, even though she’d only just left that day for the baby shower.

  He readied for bed and slid under the sheets, feeling lonely without her by his side. Unlike Sam, Foley appreciated having a woman in his life. He loved Cynthia Nichols with his whole heart, forever and all that shit.

  But he knew it wasn’t that Sam didn’t want a woman. Sam didn’t think himself worthy enough to have one of his own. A piece of shit like you doesn’t deserve love and affection. A little snot who always demands too much needs to sit back and see himself the way others do. You can go or stay, whatever the hell you want, because I don’t give a good goddamn. Because—

  Memories of that woman dogging Sam always left a bad taste in his mouth. Man, Foley hated Louise Hamilton.

  Feeling unclean at thoughts of her, he dialed Cyn. “Hey, gorgeous,” he said when she answered. “What are you wearing?”

  “Foley.” His lover chuckled, her husky voice turning him on without her trying. “I miss you.”

  “Me too.” He sighed. “You coming back Sunday?”

  “Yep. Try not to miss me too much. Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

  “And my cock harder,” he mumbled, staring down at himself.

  “I know you did not just throw something sexual into my emotional confession.”

  “Big words, baby. Slow down, you’re confusing me. Remember, I’m just a lowly mechanic.”

  “Lowly my ass.” She snorted. “So what’s going on with you?”

  “Remember those cages in Sam’s room?”

  “Of course. So is he?”

  “No.” He blew out a relieved breath. “He’s not hoarding animals and hiding them in the house, thank God. He’s rescuing them.”

  “Oh, that’s so sweet. I told you so.”

  “You did not.” He grimaced. She really had. Cyn saw the real Sam, the one he allowed Foley to see. That loving, kind soul under all the bluster, muscles, and badass. And the god-awful beard Foley had been on him to lose.

  “Please. You’ve seen him with Johnny and Lara’s dog. That puppy loves Sam. Heck, so does Jekyll.” His boss Del’s giant puppy. “Like you said, animals love him.”

  “Because beasts stick with their own kind,” he drawled, and she laughed. “He brought home a puppy today. I finally caught him at it.” He relayed their conversation, and she agreed with him.

  “This Ivy. He’s got a thing for her, hmm?”

  “Yeah. I think so.” Foley knew his bud, and the way Sam had talked about her, the way his eyes had glazed over in remembrance… “He hasn’t been that way about a woman in a long time. Even Shaya, the chick he was seeing a few months ago, was just casual.” He paused. “Ivy couldn’t have come at a better time. I think he’s been fighting again.”

  “Oh boy.”

  Sam had a lot of buried anger. He took that rage out by using his fists. Underground—illegal—matches where people made crazy bets gave him an outlet Foley wanted to condone. But if the guy got busted, he was screwed. Prison had been difficult for both of them, but Foley knew going back would break Sam. They’d both worked so hard to become better men. Without Foley to guide him, to help him stay on the right path, Sam might never recover. And despite their close bond, tighter than brothers, Foley wouldn’t go back to prison again for dumb shit. To save his buddy’s life, sure. But for illegal fighting? Hell no. Not even for Sam. Cyn would kick his ass, for one. And Eileen would finish the job.

  “What do you think?” Cyn asked.

  “I think the last time Sam got so wound up, Shaya was here to fuck the fight out of him. Er, ah, to take away the rage with some lovin’.”

  “Gee, thanks. I wasn’t sure what you meant for a minute.”

  He chuckled. “But this Ivy… I don’t know. He won’t admit he likes her. Keeps saying it’s not a date. But he looked nervous.”

  “He never looks anything but angry or stoic to me.”

  “I know him.” Better than Sam knew himself, Foley liked to think. “He’s into this chick. She seems okay on the surface. She wants to rescue a stray dog, and you know how Sam dotes on animals.” Animals, kids—he protected the innocent. Though Sam would never see it that way, Foley knew his friend needed to do for others what had never been done for him. Not until Eileen had gotten her hands on him.

  “That’s good,” Cyn said. “Sam needs softness in his life. Romance, love.”

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself, woman. She likes dogs, yeah. But that’s all we know. I want to feel her out.”

  A pause. “Oh?”

  He chuckled at the frost in her voice. “But if I go check her out, he’ll get mad. It’ll get back to him one way or the other, and then he’ll freeze me out. Then there’s my girlfriend. She’s not the sharing type, and she’s nasty when she’s mean. I’m a little scared of her.”

  Her throaty laugh turned him on even more. “Your girlfriend is a right bitch. And yeah. You do tend to stand out.”

  “But if you went in, Ivy the massage chick wouldn’t think anything of some tall, gorgeous redhead with a kinked-up neck needing bodywork,” he suggested.

  “Hmm. How kinked up?”

  “You get home and we’ll try that position from that book you showed me. I can kink you up good, baby.”

  She laughed. “Okay. For you and for Sam, I’ll sacrifice my body.” Then she lowered her voice. “In fact, I’m in a mood to sacrifice it right now. I’m not wearing much, you know.”

  He jackknifed up in bed. “Keep talkin’…” Long-distance phone sex. Was it any wonder he loved her? “I owe you big-time when you get back.”

  “Yes, dear, you do.” Then she made him groan.

  Chapter 3

  Ivy sat in the semicrowded bar and felt way out of her element. Sam had given her good directions to Ray’s, even though the dimly lit sign outside read Mazatlan. The place smelled like a bar, with the odor of stale beer and greasy food wafting around the large, open room. Scarred wooden tables and chairs had been strategically placed for maximum seating, with a row of booths along the far wall.

  By the back corner, a tiny dance floor, if one could call it that, sat in front of a jukebox playing a random assortment of alternative, classic rock, and grunge music. While she waited for Sam to ret
urn with their beer, she studied Ray’s clientele. Most looked like blue-collar tough types. Lots of tattoos and piercings, scraggly beards, leather jackets—some with biker names on them, some without. More than a few scantily clad women hung around. The proverbial barfly was stuck to a seat at the bar.

  In the twenty minutes they’d been there, the crowd had only grown, more people getting off work as the hour neared seven.

  By far, though, the most interesting people in the bar seemed to be the staff. Most of them had tattoos everywhere—including the women—multicolored hair or no hair—again, including the women—and black shirts with their jobs stated plainly in white.

  Ivy had no trouble making out the bouncers. The two men standing by the front door looked like they could eat a half-ton truck for breakfast, plus they wore shirts that said Bouncer.

  She hid a smile and glanced away before a rather large, homely man swilling a beer caught her eye. He’d been looking at her for some time. Then again, so had many of the others in the place. Probably regulars not used to perky, blond massage therapists with no tats, piercings, or exposed cleavage darkening their door.

  Sam totally fit in with this crowd. She noticed him talking with a few big, scary men at the bar. As if they’d sensed her study, all three of them glanced over at her. Geesh, where do they grow these guys? On steroid farms?

  The one dark-haired man smiled at her and raised his beer in a toast. He was fierce, good-looking, and had sleeves of tattoos on both his muscular forearms. Sam slugged him in the arm and said something that caused him to laugh. The other man with them just watched her, his dark good looks a bit intimidating, as was the very direct stare that assessed her with a coldness she didn’t like. He seemed almost out of place, not having any visible ink on his body—almost being the key word. He had a real, raw, powerful quality to him. When he smiled, she felt flustered under so much male regard.

  A cute woman with bright, brown eyes, honey-colored, tight curls, and cocoa skin brought over a tray holding a pitcher of beer and a plate of…cookies? She wore jeans and a black T-shirt that said Waitress. “Hey, sweetie. You must be Ivy. I’m Rena.” She set the cookies on the table. “Sam sent me.”

  Ivy smiled back. It would have been impossible not to respond to the sincere pleasure in the woman’s eyes. “Hi. Is this for me?”

  “Sam ordered the beer, but he’s so busy jaw jacking that he’s ignoring you. What a moron.” Rena rolled her eyes. “The cookies are from Lara. She’s in the back baking tonight. I know. Cookies and beer? Gross. But Lara’s cookies are to die for, and Ray had a hankering. Ray’s the owner.”

  Rena waited, so Ivy picked up a cookie and bit into it, despite needing to lose another five pounds that continued to linger like a cupcake hangover. “Oh. These are amazing.” So soft and gooey.

  “Yeah. Just make sure to eat them before the beer, or else the effect is way gross.” Rena made a face and put two glasses and the pitcher on the table. “Enjoy.” She winked. “And try to be gentle with Sam. He may not look it, but he’s a pussycat.”

  “Thanks a lot, Rena,” Sam growled as he took a seat in a huff.

  “Anytime, handsome.” She sauntered away and was lost in the masses waving for her attention.

  “Getting crowded.” Ivy poured them both a beer, to be nice, then finished another decadent masterpiece. God, that made three. She eyed the lonely cookie left, thinking she totally had room for that one too.

  “Good, huh?” He nodded to the plate and snagged the last one.

  A good thing or she might have eaten it.

  “Lara’s dating Johnny. He’s not here tonight or he’d be flirting with you.”

  “Um, okay.” She watched him finish the cookie, swallowed a sigh, then had a sip of beer. She must have made a face because he almost grinned. She could see the corner of his mouth wanting to turn up.

  “Give it a minute and it won’t be so bad.” He drank half his glass. “Yeah. Better.”

  “Easy for you to say. If I drink that much, I won’t be able to drive.”

  Before he could say anything, she felt someone looming behind her.

  Sam’s expression went from what she’d consider amused to annoyed, though his eyebrows barely moved. “Hell. We’re talking. Go away.” Sam sounded mean.

  She hadn’t heard him sound like that before, and it startled her. But the man—men—behind her only laughed. The two guys who’d been with him earlier by the bar sat with them.

  “Hi. I’m Foley,” said the tattooed one. He had gray eyes and a wide smile. Foley. Sam’s best friend.

  She smiled back. “I’m Ivy. Nice to meet you.” She shook his hand, pleased he’d given her a gentle squeeze with that large paw.

  The man across from him oozed sensuality. “I’m Lou. And the pleasure is all mine.” He held out a hand and drew hers to his lips when she gave it to him.

  “Cortez, hands off,” Sam said, his voice cold.

  “Easy, Sam. Just welcoming your lady to the fine establishment that is Ray’s.” She caught his Latin accent, as well as a healthy dose of sarcasm. “Classy joint you brought her to. I’m sure she’s underwhelmed.”

  Foley coughed, to cover a laugh it seemed, because his eyes were shining with mirth. “It’s not a bad place. The people here only seem rough.”

  As he said it, a scuffle broke out by the front door. But the bouncers tossed the assailants out in no time.

  “Ah, just blowing off steam,” Foley explained. “So how did you two meet?”

  Sam shot him a look she couldn’t read.

  She might have been flustered if she didn’t feel safer with so much muscle protecting her from the rest of the bar. “I found this adorable puppy, and it turned out Sam was looking for him too.”

  “How sweet. Love at first sight?” Lou asked. When she flushed, he added, all innocence, “For the puppy, I meant.”

  “Lou.” Sam clenched his big fists on the table.

  Lou, like Foley, ignored Sam’s obvious mood.

  “He—Cookie,” she hastily clarified, not looking at Sam, “is adorable. I’m still waiting on an okay from my landlord that I can keep him. Pets are allowed per the lease, but you have to sign them on and get an okay before you bring them in.” Then she turned to him. “Sam, how is Cookie doing? You haven’t said.”

  “He’s fine. Just missing you is all.” Then he stood in a rush and hauled Foley out of his seat by the arm. “Go away.” He turned and said to Lou, “You too. Ivy and me got things to talk about.”

  Lou smirked but stood all the same. “Easy, Sam. Don’t blow a gasket. Didn’t want to be rude and ignore your guest. See you at work on Monday. Nice meeting you, Ivy.”

  Before he could grab her hand for another kiss, Foley dragged him away, chuckling.

  Sam sat with a grunt. “Assholes.”

  She watched the pair leave the table and head back to the bar. “Isn’t Foley your best friend?”

  “Yep.”

  “And Lou works with you.” So Lou had said, because Sam hadn’t exactly introduced them.

  “Yep.” Sam finished off his beer and poured another.

  She continued to sip from her first glass, not even a third of the way finished. Sam just sat, watching her. The guy didn’t talk much. That wouldn’t have bothered her except that he watched her with such concentration. She felt as he if were looking through her, instead of at her.

  “So about Cookie…” She’d called Sam earlier in the day, explaining that she still didn’t have an answer about the dog from her landlord. But he’d still planned on going for a beer, so they could discuss her possible adoption. Intrigued despite herself, she’d agreed to meet him. Now she just hoped she’d survive the night.

  “Yeah?”

  “Foley was okay with him being there, at your house?”

  Sam drank. “He was until Cookie puked up his dinner,
then ate it.”

  Ivy was in the middle of taking a sip of beer. She put it back down, no longer wanting anything food or drink related. “Oh boy.”

  Sam gave a sly grin that caused her belly to do flips. Stern, he looked dangerous and sexy. But smiling? He was beautiful. Not just handsome, but bone-deep pretty in a manly kind of way. His blue-gray eyes seemed to light up, and his firm lips curled just enough to make a woman want to fan herself until the heat died down.

  “Sorry if I ruined your appetite.” He didn’t sound sorry. “But it was funny as hell to watch Foley cringe. The guy is such a pus—ah, a pushover when it comes to dirt.”

  “And vomit, apparently.”

  “And that.” He nodded. “But the puppy is hanging with Johnny tonight, so we’re good.”

  “Johnny, who’s dating Lara,” she said, remembering the names he’d spoken of earlier. “Johnny works with you too.”

  “Yeah. Along with the assholes Lou and Foley. Foley and I have been friends forever. Worked together for the past ten years too. We met the others at Webster’s Garage. Lou is a pain in the ass, but not a bad guy.” That sounded like high praise coming from Sam. “He’s also a hell of a painter. A real artist. But don’t tell him I said that.”

  “I won’t.” As if she’d ever see any of these people again. Sam had been giving her a hot-and-cold attitude since she’d arrived. He’d been stoic and growly when escorting her inside. Then he’d introduced her to one of the bouncers. Earl, she thought, who’d acted nice enough. Sam had seemed glad to have her by his side. Until he’d dumped her at the table and gave her a command to stay while he found them refreshment. He’d said the stay part but nothing so sophisticated as “refreshment.” No, he’d said, “I’ll try to get us something that doesn’t taste like stale piss.”

  Lovely, was all she could think.

  “So what do you think of the place?” he asked, watching her.

  “It’s loud.” She glanced around, saw that old man and a younger, angrier one staring at her again, so she looked away in a hurry. “But the cookies are amazing.”

  He nodded, seeming pleased with her answer. “You got that right. Lara’s an angel in the kitchen, and Ray knows it. He’s gonna hate losing her when she gets her nursing degree and dumps this place.”