by Niecey Roy
“No.” He laughed and switched on the radio. The car filled with metal, and he turned the volume on low.
“I’m sure she’s too busy to drive me to Sterling for a shopping trip.”
“There are a few women’s stores in town.”
“Really? Like a boutique?” She kept her gaze averted. Wasn’t it almost like ignoring him if she didn’t make eye contact when they spoke?
“If that’s what you call it.” He sounded amused, and she struggled not to glance his way.
“We even have a lingerie store.”
She whipped her head toward him. “Huh?”
“Lingerie.” His smile was devilish, and it hit her deep in the gut.
She sucked in a breath. This guy was out of control!
She swallowed. Hard. “Mia said your business is doing well.” She looked straight ahead. They’d just passed the Welcome to River Bend sign.
“It is.”
“That’s great.” She could feel his gaze on her like a hot iron. Shouldn’t he keep his eyes on the road?
“So how often do you ask Mia about me?”
She jerked again to shower him with an incredulous stare. “What? I don’t ask about you.”
“Mm?” He was back to safe driving, his eyes on the road, but she felt as if his full attention was zeroed in on her like a bullseye.
She straightened in her seat. “Honestly, I haven’t thought of you in years.”
Liar, the pesky voice in her head whispered on echo-mode.
“Not even once?” He didn’t sound as if he believed her, and he shouldn’t.
But still. A married man shouldn’t care if an old fling thought about him, ever. What they had together had never been fully realized. It had been a small moment in time, their chance, and over in a blink of an eye. Kensie appeared with a belly full of baby—a shock she hadn’t been prepared for. Without a backward glance, Jaden stepped on a plane and hadn’t been back since. Later, she found out Cole hadn’t known about Kensie’s pregnancy; it hadn’t changed anything. Whatever they had was over.
She tried her best to sound indifferent. “Nope, not once.”
They were now driving through town on a side street, passing a subdivision of new homes.
“Guess I was worried for nothing then,” he said, a resigned note to his voice.
“You were worried?” She swung her gaze back. Before this ride was over, she’d have whiplash. “I mean, it wasn’t necessary. Water under the bridge.”
“I’m relieved.” He pulled into the driveway of a gray two-story house with a large wood swing hanging from the porch.
“Me too,” she said, and she was. Six years was a long time. Long enough for this all to be behind them.
Cole shifted the car into park then placed his arm over the back of the seat. “So you’ll go to dinner with me?”
Jaden’s eyes bulged. “Are you serious?”
His brows quirked with confusion. “Yes. Is that not okay?”
Holy-what-the-hell was in this town’s water?
“No, it’s not okay. And definitely not a good idea. In fact, it’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard.” She opened the car door and set one foot onto the driveway. “Ever.”
He cocked his head like a bird inspecting a worm with two heads. “Okay?”
Why did she need to explain to him all the reasons dinner was a bad idea, immoral even? What is wrong with this guy? She jumped from the car, and tugged her bag and purse out after her. She shut the door and winced; she hadn’t meant to slam it.
“Not on your life, Cole Brooks. I don’t mess around with married men.” She snapped the case’s handle into place then stomped away, rolling her bag behind her.
She made it to the porch steps before he said, “Jaden.”
She spun around to glare at him. “Cole?”
He stood between the car and the open door, an arm on the roof. An amused smile turned his lips into a work of art. “She keeps a key under the creepy little statue.” He lifted a finger in gesture.
The garden gnome in the flower bed wasn’t Mia’s style, and not something she imagined Mia would purchase to display.
“What is that?” She bent for a closer look. It was hideous. Scary. Like it might come to life and assault someone with the miniature shovel in its gloved hands.
Cole laughed as he climbed back into his car. “Gift from her mother-in-law.”
“Oh, wow,” was all she could think to say. She tilted the gnome and retrieved the key underneath. By the time she stood, Cole was backed out of the driveway and on the street.
He lifted his fingers from the steering wheel in a wave. “See you around, Jelly Bean.”
He took off down the street before she could throw something at him, like the garden gnome. She’d been twelve and an idiot, and had gotten it in her head to prove she could hang with the boys. No dare was too big for her, so she’d eaten half a jar of jelly beans—then proceeded to throw them all up. Apparently, she’d never live it down.
When his car disappeared around the block, she turned to climb the porch steps. A cold shower and Jesus, that’s what she needed.
She unlocked the front door with a huff. There was nothing special about Cole.
True, over the years, curiosity had gotten the best of her. She’d scrolled through Mia’s pictures on social media, knowing she’d see Cole’s face there. She had no clue what possessed her to linger on his image, a man who was better left in her past. Every time she clicked off his image there was a small ache in her chest. He had a little boy who was a spitting image of him, with a mop of dark brown hair and a smile cute enough to make a woman’s biological clock tick in overdrive. Cole and his wife, the little boy—the three of them were a gorgeous family.
A long time ago, she fantasized about being the woman on his arm in pictures like those. Growing up, all she saw were stars when she looked at him; he was perfect. She couldn’t help it, even when he didn’t know she existed as anything other than his little sister’s best friend. She’d been head over heels for a guy who had a trail of heartbroken girls in his wake, making him all the more desirable to a teenage girl. Despite the trouble her feelings for Cole had caused her over the years, she could smile about it now. She’d been so ridiculous in her youth, scribbling their names inside of hearts in her notebooks, going to bed at night wondering if tomorrow would be the day he’d smile at her. So long ago.
None of it mattered—not their spotty history, nor how long it’d taken her to get over him. He was off limits, and she was dead set on avoiding him for the next two weeks. And since Cole, she’d built a life around simplicity. Her gypsy soul was untethered and happy.
At least she wouldn’t run into Ellie on this visit. The last voice message she received from her mother had been to tell Jaden she was going to rehab. Again. Not a surprise. She hadn’t spoken with Ellie in three years. Jaden ignored every single call, sending it to voicemail. Most of those voicemails were deleted without being played. What was the point?
Ellie’s words from their last conversation all those years ago still stung: “YOU did this to me! I’m like this because of YOU. You owe me your LIFE. I would never abandon you like this, you little bitch!” She’d been coming down off of drugs when she’d called, wanting money for an attorney. Jaden hadn’t even asked what she’d needed an attorney for. A DUI? Drug paraphernalia? It wouldn’t matter. Ellie would never change. The last thing she spat into the phone before Jaden hung up was how she hoped Jaden got pregnant and that the “little brat” ruined Jaden’s life as she’d ruined Ellie’s. Three years was a long time to go without talking to one’s mother, but that had been the last straw—she’d had enough.
Jaden forced Ellie from her mind. She wasn’t here for her, and she didn’t have to worry about an uncomfortable or embarrassing reunion with her mother. She’d be long gone before Ellie returned from her stint at rehab.
CHAPTER THREE
Trey was still at the shop when Cole returned. He sat on a blue
cooler beside his GTO, his ball cap perched sideways on his head as though he’d lifted it to cool his hair line. A bottle of beer was pressed to his lips.
When he finished swallowing, Trey said, “No black eye. That’s good.”
“No black eye.” But she’d made it clear she wasn’t interested; a huge disappointment.
Trey stood and lifted the lid of the cooler. He took out a beer and handed it to Cole. Ice water dripped down the bottle and onto the cement floor. “So, how does she look?”
Cole pictured Jaden, and his pulse picked up. “The same. Better. I don’t know. Good.”
“The one who got away.” Trey shook his head. “Made a mistake with that one. Should mean she’s fair game, right?”
“Forget it, man.” He sounded like a jealous ex, and supposed he was, in a way. There was so much regret when it came to Jaden—a past he couldn’t change; decisions he couldn’t come back from. And in the end, would he have made a different choice? Probably not. His dad had taught him that being a man meant accepting responsibility for your actions. Trying with Kensie had been the right thing to do.
He remembered the moment Micky was born; he cried as he held his baby in his arms. He was perfect, with his tiny pink fingers and button nose. He proposed to Kensie before they left the hospital. Being there for Micky had been the only option, and something he’d never regret. He hadn’t stopped trying, not until Kensie left town.
“Joking, man, you know that.” Trey cut into Cole’s thoughts. His friend was right—he was a moody fucker these days.
“Doesn’t matter. She’s not interested.” Despite that truth, he smiled. “She’s something else.”
Trey cocked his head and rolled the beer bottle between his hands. “You two have a thing, always have. If I were you, I wouldn’t let that go.” He raised his brows in critical regard. “Again.”
“She’s not staying long. A week or two.”
“Life’s a bitch, bro.” Trey knocked back another drink of beer. He lowered the bottle then said, “Speaking of bitches, your ex called while you were gone.”
Cole raised his brows, but didn’t argue. Kensie wasn’t the easiest person to get along with, especially the last couple of months. He knew why he’d dated her—rockin’ body, big breasts, and a pretty face. And she’d liked to party. Back then, so had he. They met after his dad died, and booze had been a big part of his life. Turned out he didn’t make the best judgment calls when he was drunker than piss, and having unprotected sex was on that list.
“What’d she want?” Cole swallowed half the bottle’s contents in one drink.
“What doesn’t she want is the question,” Trey quipped, and Cole threw his ball cap at him. Laughing, Trey caught the hat to his chest. “Serious. She’s trying to take you for everything you have. Woman’s crazy.”
“Can’t squeeze blood out of a turnip.” Cole sighed and pulled his cellphone out of his pocket. It was on silent and he’d missed her call.
“Don’t let her manipulate you just because she’s the mother of your kid,” Trey warned, but it was too late for that. Cole made every effort to keep Kensie happy—he didn’t want to give her any excuse to have one of her tantrums and not show for one of his visitations with Micky. She’d tried that shit after she left the first time, afraid Cole would take Micky and not give him back. Like what she’d done to Cole. It’d been almost six months since she left. He missed his son, but he didn’t miss Kensie at all.
“Only one more month and she won’t have a right to demand anything again.”
“And we’re throwing one hell of a party afterward.” Trey raised his bottle in cheers.
Grinning, Cole stood and headed across the shop to the recycle bin. “You make a celebration out of anything. But I think I’ll take you up on that.” He tossed the bottle into the bin. “I’ve got a car to haul. Coming with?”
“Nothing better to do. I tell you what, being unemployed is getting boring. Think I need a hobby.” Trey tossed his bottle into the bin.
“You have a hobby. Thought you were making furniture.”
“That hobby costs a lot.” He followed Cole outside.
“That’s why you’re supposed to sell it.” Cole headed to his pickup truck and the flatbed trailer parked side by side in front of the shop. “Hitch up the trailer, will you?”
“What’d she do to her car, anyway?” Trey stopped beside the nose of the trailer.
“It’s a rental. Probably the fuel pump.” Cole climbed into the pickup and let Trey guide him back.
“Where we taking the car?” Trey called up to him.
He waited while Trey hitched up the trailer. When Trey hopped inside the cab, Cole said, “Figured we’d leave it at Joe’s since it’s on the highway. He won’t be able to touch it since it’s a rental car, but he can call the company and let them know that the piece of crap is broken.” Cole headed out of the driveway. He looked down to the gas gauge. “I’ll fuel up and run inside to let Joe know we’ll be back to drop the car off.
“Wonder how many cars he’s got in the shop. Maybe I should help him out. Poor sap’s always swamped.”
“It’s because he fires all his help,” Cole said. Joe was the neatest mechanic Cole had ever met. He liked things in their place, and when new guys came in and turned out to be shop slobs, Joe gave them the boot. “You might actually last, though. You might be a dick, but you’re not a slob.”
“Thanks, asshole.” Trey grinned and flipped him off. Eight years in the Navy had whipped the guy into a neat freak; a side of Trey not many knew. Most couldn’t see past the guy he’d been before he went in—a hell raising, destructive kid who wrecked every car he owned, and been thrown into the drunk tank a handful of times. He had his own ghosts, his own scars, and joining the Navy had been an escape he needed. Cole was sure the military saved his friend’s life—Trey had been on a downward spiral his last few months before joining.
Joe’s Garage, one of two mechanic shops in town, sat on a corner lot right off the highway. He’d been coming here with his old man even before he could walk. Joe now ran the station, a spitting image of his father, Joe Sr.—a massive man with the heart of a teddy bear. Joe was a couple of years older than Cole and Trey, but they all had a mutual love of hot rods. Cole didn’t trust many others under the hood of his vehicles, but he trusted Joe.
A mint condition pea green LTD was parked at one of the pumps out front. Margie Nelson stood between the pump and the car wearing a scowl to accent her wrinkled brow. The pump towered over her and Cole lost sight of her when he parked the pickup on the opposite side of the pump. He shoved the door open and stepped out onto the pavement.
“How’s it going, Mrs. Nelson,” Trey asked. He shoved his hands in his pockets just as Cole rounded the front of the pickup.
“I’d be a lot better if Joe hadn’t put in this piece of junk.” Margie gestured to the pump with a wave of her hand. “Improvement my butt.”
Trey rounded the pump. “It’s not working?”
Cole looked up to the gas station door. Margie shouldn’t have been out pumping her own gas anyway. The cable across the parking lot triggered a bell inside the station whenever a car stopped at a pump. There weren’t many full service stations in the state, but Joe’s Garage had always been full service. If the attendant inside the shop couldn’t get to the pump, then the cashier came out to check on the customer.
Margie looked ready to beat the pump with the pastel blue handbag she clutched in one hand. “What was wrong with the old pumps?”
“Not a damn thing, ma’am. Pardon my French,” Trey said with a grin.
She narrowed her eyes, as though she might scold him for his language. Then she said, “Exactly. Not a damn thing,” she repeated, and Cole swallowed a smile. “I don’t understand why it keeps asking for a credit card. I don’t own a credit card. That’s the devil’s work and the reason this country’s gone to hell in a handbasket.” She turned to glare at the gas station door, and her culottes swayed around
her orthopedic hosiery. “Where is that man, anyway?”
“Probably taking a break,” Trey said, looking as if he were enjoying himself.
Sweat beaded Margie’s forehead and her cheeks were flushed as pink as her strawberry-hued lipstick. “A break.” She looked downright exasperated.
“Mrs. Nelson, why don’t you sit in the car and turn the air up. I’ll get your gas pumped,” Trey said, and Cole opened the driver’s door to the LTD.
“We’ll find out what’s keeping Joe,” Cole promised as she climbed into her car.
“It’s just too hot out here...” There was a note of relief to her voice as she settled in behind the wheel. “I’ve been out here five minutes trying to figure this thing out.”
Cole eased the car door shut.
She cracked the window and tilted her face up to the opening. “Only ten dollars. I’m heading out to Angela’s for a visit. The new baby arrived last week, you know.”
She rolled up the window before Trey or Cole could respond.
Trey chuckled and turned to the gas pump. “I got this,” he said. “You get your rig gassed up.”
Cole went around to pump his own gas.
A few minutes later, Margie called out, “You didn’t go over, did you?”
“No, ma’am,” Trey answered. “I’ll have Joe add it to your tab.”
“I don’t care what they say about you, Trey Thompson,” Margie said, and Cole peered around the pump and grinned in anticipation of what might come out of her mouth next. “You’re a good kid.”
The car fired up with a deeper rumble than the LTD should have. Trey jumped out of the way before Margie ran his foot over. Chuckling, Cole turned his attention back to his own pump.
“Hear that?” Cole said with a laugh. “You really aren’t that bad.”
“She’s a feisty one, that Margie.” Trey shook his head as he rounded the pump.
“Can you top off the tank?” Cole didn’t wait for his answer and walked toward the station. “I’ll run in and talk to Joe.”
“This thing’s as bad of a gas hog as my car.” Trey leaned against the truck, his eyes on the numbers racing upward on the gas meter.