Zero to Sixty

by Marie Harte

  Thinking about Heller had done nothing but distract him, so that when Liam once again told him to get his head out from under that friggin’ hood, Sam was less than careful about hiding his black eye.

  “What the hell happened to you?” Liam planted his hands on his hips and stared.

  Foley and Johnny joined him.

  “Whoa. Nailed in the face, huh?” Johnny scratched his head. “It wasn’t Foley?”

  “Please. I’d never hurt poor Sam. He’d cry like a baby if I tried.” Foley smirked at him.

  Sam muttered, “As if you could.”

  “Believe it, Mary. I bet I could wipe the floor with you right now.”

  Sam gave him a mean smile. “Try it.”

  “Not in my garage.” Liam glared, then noticed the teasing smile Foley hadn’t quite hidden. “You’re a pain in my ass, you know that, boy?”

  “Yes, sir.” Foley saluted. “And that’s my cue.” He took off to the break room.

  “So are you,” Liam told Johnny.

  The smart-ass took a bow. “Yeah, but I try at it. Foley’s just naturally gifted.” He paused. “Was it Goodie?”

  Sam hadn’t realized Johnny was talking to him until Liam stared at his black eye and repeated, “Goodie?”

  “Yeah. I heard Sam pounded some sense into Goodie and Senior the other day at Ray’s. Did Goodie hit you back?”

  Liam raised a brow. It was where Del got the arrogant gesture, for sure. A hard man with muscles, good looks—according to himself at least—and amazing know-how when it came to cars and people, Liam was the man they all wanted to be.

  Sam didn’t like disappointing him, so he couched his answer. “Ah, no. Not Goodie. It’s no big deal, really.”

  “Uh-huh.” Liam stared at him, those dark-gray eyes piercing. “You aren’t fighting again, are you, Sam?”

  “Huh? Fighting?” Fucking Johnny and his big mouth. Sam scowled, but behind Liam, Johnny was shaking his head and mouthing, Not me. “Not sure what you mean.” Playing stupid often worked for him with Del. But then, she usually went easier on him than she did the others.

  “Please. I—” Liam turned to Johnny. “Get your scrawny ass out of here. Isn’t Lara feeding you anymore? Go eat a sandwich.”

  “Yes, boss. Sure thing, boss. Thank you, boss.”

  Liam pinched the bridge of his nose. “Is he still here?”

  Johnny danced away, laughing as he joined Foley in their crappy little break room.

  “He’s gone.”

  “Good.” Liam grabbed Sam by the arm and dragged him outside, into the cold spring air, through the back door. Away from Del and the office. Only Liam would have the stones to put his hands on Sam. Foley had a few times before, but they were friends. And that one time a few months ago, they’d nearly ripped each other’s heads off during one hell of an argument.

  “Damn, Liam.” Sam yanked his arm back but made no move to retaliate. He liked the old man. Not to mention he was smart enough to fear the wrath of Del and Sophie—Liam’s squeeze—should he even think about messing with the guy.

  “What the fuck, Sam? I thought you were done fighting.”

  “I, ah—”

  “Like I don’t know about the underground bullshit Jerry runs at the House. Please. Who the hell do you think works on all their cars? Owen’s ’62 Impala? Dixon’s Mercury Cyclone? Or Jerry’s fastback?” Oh yeah, that car gave Sam wet dreams. Jerry had a 1967 Ford Shelby GT350 fastback. A real thing of beauty. Figured he’d only trust Liam to work on it. “Jerry O. has been in the thick of shit for decades. Tried getting J.T. to fight a few years ago, but I set him straight.”

  “J.T.?” Sam snorted. “He’d get his ass handed to him. One pinky finger bent the wrong way and he’d cry like a pussy.” He didn’t care that he’d called Liam’s son a wuss. They both knew it was true.

  “I know.” Liam sighed. “He’s big and pretty. Like tits on a bull when it comes to fighting. He’s all about protecting his hands.”

  J.T. was one hell of an artist though. “Well, since he does my tats, I guess I can cut him some slack.”

  “But no slack for you.” Liam slapped Sam in the back of the head, coming close to making Sam forget he should never strike his boss. “Get that look off your face,” Liam hissed. “We both know you aren’t going to hit me back. What the hell are you doing fighting again, Sam?”

  Damn. No more pretending.

  “You don’t want to be there when the wrong people come to town. You know that. You sure as shit don’t want to go jail. Again.”

  Sam bit back a sigh. “I know.”

  “So stop it. Because if Del gets a look at that face she’ll—”

  “What are you two doing out here? Sam?” Del gaped at Sam’s eye. “What the fu—”

  “Language, honey,” Liam hurriedly interrupted. “Remember, the wedding is so close. Don’t want to slip up in front of your future in-laws.”

  She clamped her mouth shut and shot daggers at her father. “Fine. What happened to the eye, Hamilton?”

  Del didn’t deal with criminals. You worked in her shop, you toed the line. Liam bowed to her wishes, since she’d pretty much taken over most of the workload. He still came in to help, but he’d adapted to the idea of retirement better than any of them had thought he would.

  “I, ah, well…”

  “Apparently he got into a fight at Ray’s, and a friend of Goodie’s sucker punched him afterward.” Liam smacked him in the back of the head. For the second time. “Be more careful, boy. Never turn your back.”

  Sam bit back what he wanted to say, because Liam was giving him an excuse without having to personally lie to Del. “Good advice,” he growled.

  “Is that right?” Del didn’t seem as if she believed him. “Fine. But be more careful. We won’t get repeat clients if our employees look like they just broke out of San Quentin. You’re bad enough without the bruises,” she said to Sam, sounding gruff. But he knew she wanted only the best for him. “Ice that eye.”

  “Okay.”

  “Do you need to leave early or anything?”

  He snorted. “It’s a busted eye, not a broken hand.” He’d had a sprained wrist before and worked through it. Sam was no stranger to pain.

  “Good. Thought you were turning into a candy-ass, like my father.” She ignored Liam’s sputtering. “Take a break, then get back to work. And make sure Foley fixes the fridge like he said he would, okay? ’Cause we’re not getting a new one until after I finish my taxes. The fridge needs to last a few more months, I’m thinking.”

  “You filing an extension?” Liam asked, following her back inside.

  “Nah, just making sure I can cover it with this year’s projections.” She said something else, but Sam didn’t hear. He thought long and hard about Liam knowing about his fights. Foley, Liam, Johnny. Hell. Lou probably knew too.

  He couldn’t keep going there, possibly getting lumped with the other assholes and sent to prison when the cops busted them for gambling and whatever the hell else the House fronted for. Fighting was just the tip of the iceberg of what went down. He knew that. Hell, he knew better. With a sigh, he returned to the garage and sought Foley.

  He looked in the refrigerator running on its last legs for the sandwich he’d slapped together. Johnny had already returned to a scrappy yellow Honda in the bay, but Foley remained planted at the table, stuffing his face.

  “Liam knows,” Foley said.

  “You think?” Sam gave him a look. “Bastard slapped me upside the head. Twice.”

  “You deserve it.”

  Sam groaned. “I know. Look. I’ll stop, okay? Next time I need to handle my aggression, I’ll pound you.” He wouldn’t mention Ritter’s gun. That would only freak Foley out more. And to be honest, it had alarmed Sam. Ritter had seemed like a decent guy. So what the hell did Sam really know about
the people at the House?

  “Or you could go to that gym McCauley uses. I overheard Del talking to him one day. He works out there religiously. Imagine pounding him instead of the guys at the House.”

  Sam considered it. “Yeah, but what if I really hurt him? Del wouldn’t be happy about that.”

  “Hmm. Good point. We’ll come up with something else.” Foley paused. “Though if I remember right, you were pretty damn mellow when Shaya was around.”

  Good times. “Yeah, but then I was getting laid regularly.” A nice girl. A hell of a stripper, and a woman with plans that included her sister out East. He hadn’t minded, because he hadn’t wanted anything more than some sex with a friend. He’d liked her. He also hadn’t cared that she’d left, just wished her well.

  “So do what you did with someone else.” Foley talked in riddles sometimes.

  “Huh? So I should fuck the shit out of someone else?”

  Foley looked beyond Sam’s shoulder and cleared his throat.

  “What? You said it yourself that fucking or fighting relaxes me. So I should find some chick to bang? For how long? A few months on end?” He snorted. “That might leave her walking funny.” As he said it, he could only imagine one particular chick to have sex with. And doing anything that might harm her didn’t factor into his future. Nah, he only wanted to kiss Ivy. Touch her, pet her, bring her to a happy—

  “Ahem.”

  Sam whirled around and stared at Del. She must have overheard him, because she gave him a look. His cheeks heated. “Ah, what’s up, Del?”

  “Someone here to see you. In my office.” She paused. “What are you working on? The Tacoma in the back?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll take a look at it. Hurry up so I can get back to work on my spreadsheets, will ya?”

  He walked by her out into the garage, wondering if Ivy had come to see him, finally. Then he slowed down, rethinking all he’d rehearsed to say to her. If it was her, he couldn’t screw up again. He needed to sound sincere, apologetic. He’d grovel if he had to.

  Del must have followed him, because he felt her hard hands at his back, shoving him toward her office. Freakin’ pushy Websters. “Walk faster, Methuselah. We have a garage to run. But take your time with the convo.” In a lower voice, she added, “Iron out your issues and quit moping around like a girl.”

  He blinked. “Like a what?”

  “You heard me,” she muttered. “Tell anyone I said that and you get extra oil changes tomorrow.”

  Shaking his head at Del, because he could always bully Johnny into doing his work for him, he entered the office and closed the door behind him. As he’d both hoped and dreaded, Ivy stood waiting for him. Seeing her looking so fresh and pretty caused him to lose all train of thought, and he stammered a greeting. “H-hey.” He coughed to cover his nerves. “Uh, what can I do for you?”

  She blinked. “What happened to your eye?”

  He flushed, feeling like a huge bruiser compared to her and her gentle nature. “Ah, nothing really. Remember those fights I told you about? Needed to work off a little steam.” She said nothing. “Would it help if I told you I won?”

  “Oh, um, good.” She swallowed audibly. “Does it hurt?”

  “Nah. Seriously, I’m good. So what’s up, Ivy?”

  “I got your flowers,” she said in a soft voice. Well, shit. She still looked upset.

  “I meant to get more, but I didn’t want to overdo it if you can’t have them in the office.” Alarm filled him. “You aren’t allergic, are you?”

  She gave a sad laugh. “Oh, Sam.” Then she walked toward him and shocked him by grabbing his hand. She dragged him to sit next to her in one of the two chairs across from Del’s desk. “You have nothing to be sorry about. I’m the one who has to apologize.”

  “Huh?” He was totally confused.

  “Let’s get a few things straight. One, you will not fix my car for free. If you don’t want me massaging you, and I can’t blame you for that”—her cheeks turned a bright pink—“then I’ll pay you for your time. Two, you, ah…” She glanced around her before looking back at him and adding in a lower voice, “You were so sweet to me last night. I mean, you gave me a major orgasm.”

  “Yeah?” Fascinated at all she said and didn’t say, he just waited. His heart hammered inside his chest, even more so when she continued to hold his big, ugly hand in hers and squeezed.

  “I can’t believe I attacked you like that.” She sighed. “You were so cute.” Him, cute? “Teaching me to hit, making me swear.” Her slow grin turned her from beautiful to downright gorgeous. “I was having so much fun. Then, well, I’m not proud of it. I jumped you. I can’t believe I did that. Although, I kind of can. You’re so handsome. I mean, even the tickle of your beard turned me on. I bet you’re used to women throwing themselves at you.” She glanced down at their hands. “I shouldn’t have done it, but it’s like I couldn’t help myself. Around you, I feel this superstrong attraction. I mean, I feel it. I don’t know if you do.”

  He kept wondering when he was going to wake up. Or if someone had him on one of those prank TV shows. “Oh, I feel it. Trust me.”

  She bit her lower lip, and he stifled a groan. “The thing is, that kiss. It was so magical. Then I went too far. I can’t believe I…that I…climaxed from a little touching.” She blew out a breath. “You have no idea how embarrassing this is for me. I’m usually not that quick to, ah, finish like that.”

  He chuckled, and her gaze shot to his. “Ivy, relax. I was worried I forced you into something you didn’t want.”

  “What?”

  Relieved, he relaxed in his chair and continued to hold her hand, not wanting to let go. “I was the one who kissed you first.”

  “You’re not upset with me?”

  “Hell no. What gave you that idea?”

  “You left me so fast. I mean, one minute I was coming like some mutant, sex-starved fiend. The next you were racing out of the house.”

  “Ah, shit. I thought you were mad at me. The kiss got so hot, so fast. Before I knew it, I was touching you. Feeling you come drove me insane. I was two seconds from unzipping and shoving home.” He flushed at her wide-eyed stare. “You probably won’t believe me, but I don’t do that. I never take what isn’t offered. That’s fucked up, and I’m not like that.”

  He prayed he wasn’t. Hoped he’d never do what he thought he’d done. He was just so damn glad he’d been wrong about all of it.

  “Sam, you were gentle with me.” Her flush intensified. “Until you weren’t, and it was amazing. I don’t normally climax that easy or fast with a man. It’s been over a year since my last date. I came across as desperate, I know, but I’m really not,” she protested.

  “Never said you were.” Sitting next to her, so close while she held his hand, fixed all his doubts and fears. Nothing existed for him at the moment but Ivy, and he could do nothing but gaze at her with rapt attention.

  Seconds passed in silence.

  She sighed. “Your eyes are so pretty.”

  “So are yours.”

  They both smiled and kept on staring.

  The muted sound of Foley and Johnny swearing in the garage finally broke the moment.

  “I, um, I wanted you to know you have nothing to be sorry about,” Ivy said. “I do. And I promise not to jump you again.”

  He made a bold move, encouraged by her admission. He dragged his thumb over her hand, the lightest of caresses, the intimacy between them obvious. “You don’t have to promise that, Ivy. In fact, I’d like it if you’d promise the opposite. Feel free to jump me anytime.”

  “Sam.” She gave him a shy grin, and he wanted to hug and kiss her and never stop. “Cookie misses you.”

  “Yeah?” He cleared his throat. “I miss him too.”

  “I was thinking. Maybe…maybe you and I could share h
im for a while.”

  Best damn idea he’d heard in a long time. “You’d be okay with that?”

  She nodded. “That way he gets a lot of attention. And you and I could become better friends.”

  With benefits, God willing. Or without. Hell, he just wanted to be around her however he could. He was totally turning into a pussy, but he didn’t care. “Would you like to go out with me sometime? And not to Ray’s. Like, on a real date?” How he found the courage to ask her out, he didn’t know. But in her gracious mood, he could only pray she’d take him up on the offer.

  She smiled. “A real date? That sounds nice. But no more flowers. I have enough.” She leaned close and kissed him on the cheek. The one that she’d said tickled—he’d have to fix that.

  He froze in place, not wanting to do anything to ruin the moment.

  “I’d love to go out with you, Sam. Anywhere is good with me.” She drew back and stood, and he immediately missed touching her. “I’m sorry if I took you away from work. I just asked if I could talk to you for a minute. I hope you’re not in trouble or anything because I interrupted.”

  “Nah. Del’s good with it or she never would have given up her precious office.”

  She chuckled. “Well, I’ll let you go.”

  Which reminded him. “I worked on your car first thing this morning. Ordered the new clutch. Good news is the flywheel just needs to be resurfaced. I’ll do that, and when the clutch comes in, you’re good as new. Should be all fixed by Friday.”

  “Oh, thank you so much.”

  “How did you get here?”

  “A client gave me a ride. She owns the coffee shop a few doors down.”

  He should have known. Nosy-ass Mr. and Mrs. Foley. “Great timing, huh?”