She’d summed it up, basically. He knew this should end before feelings got involved and everything about Alex went from easy to extremely fucking complicated. But the thought of avoiding her presence didn’t sit well with him. He liked just . . . looking at her, which was maybe weird. But even being around her made him happy.
This was ridiculous. So he nodded. “Yes, that’s . . . about right.”
“Great.”
He pulled out his keys and her gaze shot to them. He held up the keychain she gave him. “I, uh, have interestingly enough gotten some questions about this in New York.”
She smiled at that. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Wanted to know if you did good work. Offered deals on oil changes. Things like that.”
She laughed. “Well, you know, I didn’t give you that as publicity or anything. More as something to . . . ”
“Remember you by,” he said softly.
“Sure.” Alex chewed her lip. “How long will you be in town, then?”
“Another week or two.”
She nodded and ducked her head. “Will you be back after that?”
“Probably not.”
She stared at her feet with her hands on her hips. “Right. Well, thanks for showing me the high life while you were in town, Posh.” She lifted her head then, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.
He smiled, remembering her words in the hotel room. “I appreciate your hospitality.”
She laughed, her blue eyes bright. “Don’t tell too many people. We like our town without outsiders, ya know?”
“It’s between you and me.”
She was backing up now, and his instincts screamed at him to tug her back, align her petite body with this. But that would just delay the inevitable. He needed to get away from here. He had a life that wasn’t in Tory, Maryland. A life that didn’t involve Alex. And he needed to remember that if he was going to get out of this town with his heart intact.
And why all of a sudden did that life not seem as appealing as it used to?
He cleared his throat and took a step back, the distance between them growing. “Right, then, I’ll be going. You take care, Sprite.”
“You too, Posh.”
She pressed the button to open the garage door, and then she was gone, closing the office door behind her. All he could do was get in his car, drive back to his hotel room, and do something, anything, to take his mind off Alex Dawn.
Chapter Seven
SPENCER LEANED AGAINST his car and crossed his arms over his chest. He gazed at the back of Payton and Sons Automotive and thanked God it was Sunday so no one could see him standing there as Penny and Nick evaluated the location for the umpteenth time that week.
Penny was frowning, which Spencer thought was a good sign, as Nick talked about where the grocery store would sit, where the parking lot would be located, how they could tear down Payton and Sons and place the gas pumps there.
Spencer resisted the urge to chain himself to the brick building to prevent an imaginary bulldozer from razing it.
Penny turned to look at Spencer, her finger tapping her lips. “What were your reasons for not recommending this location?”
“It’s in the report,” he answered gruffly.
Her lips twitched. “Humor me.”
He huffed out a breath and straightened from the car. “Because as it stands now¸ it’d sit behind this garage. Taking over property isn’t easy, so I don’t see why we’d make it difficult and try to get this land from the Paytons. A hotel would be a nuisance to the community here rather than an aid.”
“We have a lot of hotels that are in the business district,” Nick said.
“Business district?” Spencer echoed. “There’re a couple of stores on this main street but I think it’s a big stretch to call it a business district.”
“I still think this is our most visible location.”
This would be the first Royalty Suites in Maryland, and although Tory was a small town, it was a main thoroughfare for travel from Baltimore to the busy northeast cities.
Spencer had to admit, he was starting to fall for Tory. When he’d visited a couple of weeks ago, he’d spent some time at local parks and restaurants. The town had its own vibe, which was peaceful and yet full of hope. There were a lot of entrepreneurs and small businesses—like Delilah’s Drawers. Weeks ago, it had annoyed Spencer how much it reminded him of home. But when he’d been back in New York, he’d realized that wasn’t home either. Once he set foot on Tory soil again, he’d enjoyed breathing this air into his lungs. What did all that even mean?
Penny was looking at the land, her hand shading her eyes from the glare of the morning sun. She was giving nothing away. “Okay, now let’s head to the location Spencer recommends.”
He sighed and got into the car, waiting for Penny and Nick to settle into the Mercedes with him.
This was going to be a long day.
SEVERAL HOURS LATER, Spencer turned his grocery cart around the corner of the aisle in Souter’s Grocery and nearly crashed into a tiara-wearing little girl staring at the cookies on the end cap. “Oh, I’m sorry.”
The girl looked at him with big blue eyes and Spencer recognized her right away as Violet. He looked around for her mother and father and—good Lord, her aunt.
Violet smiled. “Oh! You’re the British man we met! Hello! Do you remember me?”
He didn’t know how to talk to children. He was an only child and he wasn’t sure he’d ever really been . . . a child. His father didn’t believe in coddling. Spencer cleared his throat. “ ’Course I remember you. And how are you?”
“I’m good. I just really want some cookies, but Brent said I can only have them if I also eat my vegetables.”
Spencer nodded awkwardly. “Erm, that’s a good deal, I think.”
Violet sighed and stared longingly at the cookies.
A male voice called out, “Vi? Where’d you go, Princess?”
“I’m here!” Violet called out.
A second later, Brent rounded the aisle, spotted Violet, and then lifted his gaze to Spencer. “Oh, hey man. You following us around or something?”
Spencer jerked in alarm. “Oh, uh, not at all, I—”
Brent laughed. “I’m just kidding. Small town. How’s it going?”
“It’s, um, going.”
Brent glanced at Spencer’s cart full of snacks. “You stocking up?”
Spencer shrugged. “I’m a little tired of takeaway, although I don’t have a kitchen so . . . trying to come up with some snacks and things I can put together in my hotel room.”
“You should come to our cookout!” Violet piped up.
Brent’s face brightened. “Hey, that’s a good idea. We’re having a big thing tonight with family and friends to celebrate . . . uh . . . nothing really. We just like to grill meat before the weather gets too cold. You should come by.”
He’d tried for a long time to beat the British out of him, but the instinct to never turn down an invitation, to always accept and be polite, was something he’d never been able to cure. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose . . . ”
“You can bring your friends too. What were their names? Nick and Pam?”
“Uh, Penny.”
“Right,” Brent said. “So what do you say?”
“Please?” Violet batted her big blue eyes and Spencer floundered. He had no excuse. None. It was Sunday and he’d decided to stop at the grocery store after dropping Penny and Nick off at the hotel. Tonight he’d planned to . . . well, he wasn’t sure, really. Watch TV in his big hotel bed and eat cheese and crackers.
“Well, I guess we could swing by for a bit—”
“Great!” Brent cheered loudly. “You want Cal’s address? That’s where the cookout is.”
Oh, God. Cow. “Um, are you sure he won’t mind—”
Brent waved a hand. “Nah, he won’t care. Just pull up in the flashy Mercedes and we’ll all know it’s you.”
“Yes, um, okay.”
/> Brent stared at him expectantly. “You wanna take out your phone and get the address down?”
“Oh, yes.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and typed in the address as Brent gave it to him, still trying to think of a way to get out of this. “And it’s not just family?”
“Nah, we’ll have all kinds of riffraff there. Just swing by. There’ll be food and beer, although I can’t promise sophisticated conversation.”
Spencer smiled at that. “Sophisticated conversation is overrated.”
Brent grinned. “Now you’re talking my language.” He patted Violet on the shoulder. “All right, Princess. Let’s get a move on. Your mom is going to think we got kidnapped.”
Violet giggled and skipped ahead of Brent. “See you tonight, Mr. Spencer!”
ALEX HELD THE bowl of broccoli salad against her chest as she walked toward Cal’s backyard. His house sat on secluded acreage that was perfect for Cal and perfect for backyard barbecues when they sometimes got a little rowdy. Sunday dinners at his place had become a tradition lately, and Alex couldn’t say she didn’t love it. For once, she felt a part of a family—albeit a flawed family with too much testosterone. But it felt like hers nonetheless, and Sunday dinners were a part of that.
She rounded the corner of the house and found Asher and Violet throwing a tennis ball with Honeybear. Jenna and Ivy were drinking beer on chaise lounges and Cal was manning the grill. Brent stood next to him, clearly directing him how to cook while Jack stood nearby, arms crossed over his chest, a scowl on his face as he occasionally barked orders at his two sons.
Max was there, the youngest Payton, with his fiancée, Lea. Alex had met him only once or twice since he was a teacher in Pennsylvania. He stood with his arm around Lea, watching Honeybear as she twisted in the air to catch the ball. Davis sat next to them in his wheelchair, the beer in his hand resting loosely on his thigh.
A warmth, an unfamiliar but comforting contentment, settled in Alex’s gut. Yeah, this was home.
She set her broccoli salad on a foldout table near the house and walked toward Ivy and Jenna. They were laughing as Alex approached. Ivy looked up, blue eyes bright. “Hey, you.”
“You guys started without me.” Alex pointed toward the beers.
“It’s five o’clock somewhere,” Jenna said, sending the girls into another fit of giggles.
The sound of gravel pinging and loud music sounded from the front of the house. Alex cocked her head as an engine shut off. “Delilah must be here.”
Soon enough, the tiny dynamo bounced around the corner of the house, wearing a large tunic, leggings, and purple platform sandals. “How do you even walk in those?” Alex asked as Delilah strode up to them. Alex noticed her eyes darting toward the man in the wheelchair.
She shoved her sunglasses on top of her head. “I walk better in these than in my bare feet,” Delilah said. “So, what’s to drink?”
“Cooler’s over there.” Jenna pointed. “Take your pick.”
In the next half hour, Gabe showed up with his brother Julian, who immediately paired off with his boyfriend, Asher. A couple of other friends came by, and then Cal hollered that the burgers were ready. Alex sat down at a chair with a full plate on her lap and Delilah settled in beside her, oversize glasses covering her eyes from the setting sun. Alex could still feel Delilah’s gaze on her. “Nice to see you dressed up for the occasion,” Delilah said with a smirk.
Alex stuck a forkful of broccoli salad in her mouth. “My Sunday best.”
Delilah grinned and crossed her legs, tilting her head back to take a huge gulp of beer. Alex owed a lot to the woman next to her. Delilah was a friend of a friend who’d told Alex about the opening at Payton and Sons. Delilah had also employed Ivy, so all around she was aces in Alex’s book.
Plus, girls’ night out was always interesting with Delilah present.
“So I heard your one-night stand is back in town.” Delilah’s glasses were on top of her head now and she eyed Alex.
So the downfall of Delilah was that she loved to gossip.
Alex sighed, pushing around her food, clamping her lips shut so she didn’t correct Delilah that technically it was a two-night stand. Or, a one-night stand plus a fuck on a car.
Jesus.
Alex took a sip of her beer. “You and Ivy are old gossiping biddies.”
“Look, this town never sees action, and the Kardashians are all getting knocked up now. I need entertainment.”
“Del—”
“He’s very attractive in this dark, frowning British way.”
“He doesn’t always frown,” Alex muttered.
Delilah giggled. “I guess not.”
“Oh, shut up.”
“Please go on, tell me what he does with his mouth besides frowning.”
“I hate you.”
“You love me and you know it.”
“Don’t you have some man of your own to worry about?”
Delilah waggled her eyebrows. “Worrying about your men is much more fun. Less mess.”
Alex sighed, unwilling to confess about the fuck against his car. “Look, he’s only here in town to work with his friend and her husband—”
Delilah’s eyes widened. “Oh, plot twist!”
“How is that a plot twist?”
“Because he’s in a ménage relationship?”
Alex cackled. “I’m pretty sure he’s not in a ménage.”
Ivy looked concerned. “What if he is? What if that’s, like, a weird New York businessman British thing?”
Delilah tapped her chin. “I think I read about this in a book or something.”
“Oh, stop.” Alex rolled her eyes. “No, you didn’t.”
“What’d you read about?” Jenna stopped in front of their chairs holding a beer bottle in her hand.
“Threesomes in New York,” Delilah said, as if it was a perfectly normal thing to be discussing over a Sunday dinner.
“I feel like I read that too?” Jenna said, her voice rising into a question. “Who was it by?”
Alex was done. “You two are ridiculous.”
Jenna pulled up a chair and sat next to them. “Why are we talking about ménages? Because Cal won’t be into that, Delilah. I guess you could ask Brent and Ivy.”
“How much have you had to drink?” Alex demanded.
Jenna stared at her beer. “Um, a bunch?”
“A bunch of beer?”
Jenna nodded, biting her lip, then dissolved into giggles.
Alex needed to drink more to deal with this. She was about to stand up and grab another bottle when the doorbell rang inside the house. She dropped the burger onto her plate and turned around to peer through the screen door into the house. “Who the hell are the newbies ringing the doorbell?” Alex asked Jenna.
Jenna frowned. “Huh, I don’t know, actually. Maybe Cal invited someone.”
Which made them both laugh. Because Cal didn’t invite anyone.
Jenna went to stand up, but wobbled a little.
Alex rolled her eyes. “Sit down, lightweight. I’ll get the door.”
“I can get it!” Jenna protested.
Alex was already walking into the house. “Too slow!”
She wiped her hands on her jeans and straightened her old, faded Metallica T-shirt. She opened the door, and was about to explain that no one ever knocked on Sundays, but her voice died in her throat.
Spencer stood on the porch, his mouth tight, while Penny and Nick flanked him. Penny was craning her neck behind them to take in the front yard, while Nick looked unimpressed with Cal’s house.
Spencer’s mouth was tight, his shoulders tense. “Um, hello, Alex.”
At the sound of Alex’s name, Penny whipped her head forward. Her smile split her face. “Hello again, Alex.”
Alex just stared, one hand on the door, the other hanging limply at her side. “What’re you doing here?” Which was rude, yeah, but honestly, why the fuck were they there?
Penny lifted her eyebrows but Sp
encer’s expression didn’t change. He cleared his throat. “I ran into Brent at the grocery store, and he invited us.”
The anger burned in her throat, and she had to count to ten so she didn’t bark at them to leave. All she could think was that Spencer had invaded her sanctuary. Her private, Sunday, family-friendly sanctuary.
He couldn’t have declined? Made up some excuse on why he couldn’t come? She narrowed her eyes a little. “I’m surprised you have time for something like this, what with all the work you have to do while you’re in town.”
A muscle in Spencer’s jaw ticked. “Seems we were able to spare a few hours.”
Penny cleared her throat and held up a paper bag. “We brought dessert, some cupcakes from the bakery outside of town. I hope that’s sufficient?”
Alex hesitated, but this woman didn’t deserve her ire. She took the bag and nodded. “Yes, that’s, uh, very nice of you. You can head down this hallway and out the back door. Everyone’s in the backyard.”
“Come on, Nick,” Penny said, her gaze lingering on Spencer. “Nice to see you again, Alex.” She set off down the hallway, her husband at her heels.
Spencer took a step inside after Penny and Alex shut the door behind him. His arm brushed hers, and he smelled the same as he had before.
He wore a pair of jeans and a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing his veined forearms. His clothes were casual, yet he still carried himself as Leslie Michael Spencer.
Everything Alex didn’t want to be attracted to, but yet she inexplicably was.
He gazed around the living room. “This is a nice place. Peaceful.”
“It is.”
“Look, Alex—”
“Don’t,” she said sharply and his head shot up. “There’s nothing to apologize for or explain. There’s nothing . . . between us, right?” Her stomach rolled as she said the words. “What we did—twice—is all there’s going to be, right? You’ll be gone again soon, so let’s just spare ourselves another repeat. It’s what we both want.” She forced herself to take a step back. “Food’s out back. Burgers are done.” And then she turned on her heel, willing her heart to stop beating out of her chest when she heard Spencer’s footfalls following her.
Dirty Deeds (Mechanics of Love #3) Page 8