by Devney Perry
“Londyn?” he called.
“Yeah?”
“Sorry about the car.”
I glanced over my shoulder. “I’m not.”
Chapter Seven
Brooks
I raised my fist and pounded on my ex-wife’s door. We’d been divorced for a decade but it still felt strange to knock after living here for years.
Moira’s heels clicked across the wood floor I’d installed the year before moving out. She had a smile on her face when she answered the door—it dropped when she spotted me.
“Hi.” She was wearing a simple black dress, as she did most summer days when she worked. In the winter, she’d add a cardigan. Moira was a receptionist at a dentist’s office, and to most, she looked poised and professional. But I knew a viper lurked underneath the surface.
Moira was incredible when she wanted to be. When she didn’t, her claws left a nasty mark.
“Why’d you do it?” I didn’t bother with a greeting. We were beyond playing nice.
She was lucky I’d waited until after five to come to her house instead of marching down to Dr. Kurt’s office and having this out with her at work.
“Do what?” She crossed her arms over her chest.
“Don’t play dumb.” I frowned. “That’s my place of business.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The last time you came in and messed up the place, you set me back a week. But you crossed the line here. You fucked with a customer’s car.”
“Are you drunk?” She leaned forward. “I haven’t been to the garage in months.”
It was always the same with her. Lie, lie, lie. Even when she knew she was caught, she never admitted defeat.
“Whatever. Stay the fuck away from my garage. The next time, I’m calling the cops.”
“I didn’t do anything, Brooks.”
“Sure.” Heard that before too. I spun on my boot and marched down the sidewalk.
“Brooks,” she snapped.
I didn’t answer.
“Brooks!”
I strode to my pickup.
“Fuck you.” Now the fangs were out. Was it really a wonder we hadn’t made it? I was almost to my pickup when she yelled, “Wait. Please.”
I sighed, pausing on the sidewalk. “Yeah?”
“Are you coming tomorrow?”
I scoffed. “No.”
“You promised.”
“I said I’d think about it. I have, and I’m not coming.”
“Grr,” she snarled, stepping inside the house and slamming the door. It echoed down the block.
Typical. That wasn’t the first time she’d slammed that door on me. I’d had enough of her bullshit to last a lifetime.
Moira had come over last night and asked me over for dinner. Her parents were coming to town tomorrow and had hoped to see me. It was something we’d done over the years, even after the divorce. I wasn’t a fan of my ex but her parents were good people.
I’d have to catch them the next time. Tomorrow I’d still be fuming mad at their daughter.
The key marks in the Cadillac had Moira written all over them. A year after our divorce, I’d dated the new kindergarten teacher in town. Things had been going pretty well for about a month, then she’d called me one Sunday morning and told me we were over without explanation.
I’d found out a week later it was because Moira had keyed the hell out of my girlfriend’s car.
I hadn’t dated for two years after that. But then I’d finally met a nice woman who’d worked with Dad at the hospital. Moira hadn’t even given us a month. Six dates in and Moira had slashed her tires. All four of them.
She’d admitted to that one eventually, after the nurse had moved away from Summers. She’d gotten drunk one night and called me in tears, begging for a second chance. When I’d assured her it would never fucking happen, she’d gotten nasty and vowed no woman would ever hang around for long.
Years later, I guess she still meant it.
Moira’s antics had cost me stress and money I could have used for much better things. I’d paid to have the key marks fixed and the tires replaced. But I hadn’t bothered to date since. No woman I’d met had seemed worth the drama.
Until Londyn.
Even after I’d admitted it was likely my ex-wife who’d trashed her car, Londyn hadn’t run away screaming. She’d asked me out. Then she’d let me kiss the hell out of her.
I grinned over the steering wheel. Londyn McCormack was one of a kind.
Traffic was light, per usual, as I drove across Summers toward my parents’ place. We had a standing dinner every Monday night—had for sixteen years. Tonight was one of the few times I’d contemplated skipping.
I looked forward to Mom’s cooking and shooting the breeze with Dad over a glass of scotch. But I had a limited number of nights with Londyn. More now than there had been this morning.
Moira’s plan had backfired. Maybe she’d meant to chase Londyn out of town, but she didn’t understand Londyn’s attachment to that car. Most wouldn’t unless they knew her story. That Cadillac was woven into her life. It was her childhood home brimming with fond memories.
She wouldn’t leave Summers until it was in pristine condition, which gave me time. It might even take a week.
I’d called Mack at the body shop and explained the situation to him. After a string of curses, he’d agreed to fit it into their schedule again as well as cut me a break. He knew what Moira was like. But he didn’t have the flexibility he’d had last week. I’d driven the Cadillac over and he’d promised to hurry.
We’d left it at that. My guess? Londyn would be on her way in a week.
One more week. Maybe she’d let me kiss her again.
Five minutes away from Mom and Dad’s place, my phone buzzed with a text. They lived on fifty acres about ten miles out of town.
Mom: I didn’t feel like cooking today. How about a pizza?
Pizza? I wasn’t missing one of the few nights I’d have with Londyn for pizza. I pulled up Mom’s number and sent the call through.
“I just texted you,” she answered.
“I saw that. How mad would you be if I didn’t make it for pizza?” My foot hovered over the brake.
“Hmm.” A frown invaded her voice. “You never miss Monday dinner.”
“Yeah, I know.” I put my foot back on the gas. I never missed Monday dinner. The guilt was too much to live with.
“Is this about the garage?” Mom asked. “I heard what happened. I’m so sorry.”
No shock Mom had heard. Tony had a big mouth. He’d come into the shop today, whistled and gotten right to work putting the place back to sorts. The two of us had had it all fixed before noon. While I’d spent my lunch hour catching up on everything I hadn’t done over the morning, he’d disappeared.
Now I knew where he’d gone—to gossip with Sally.
“It’s fine. No major damage.” Except Londyn’s car.
“Do you know who might have done it?”
Oh yeah, I knew. But Mom didn’t need to know it was Moira. “Probably kids.”
As far as the world was concerned, Moira and I had survived an amicable divorce. We were friendly in public. We supported one another though we lived separate lives. We smiled and played nice.
For Wyatt.
I’d been seventeen years old when my son was born. Moira and I had been high school sweethearts. Two stupid kids who thought they were invincible and that condoms were reasonable, not required.
We’d done our best as teenage parents. I hadn’t spent my senior year in high school submitting college applications and making campus visits. I’d spent my free time after class at the garage working because it was the key to my son’s survival.
Moira had lived with her parents until Wyatt was born, then she’d moved into my parents’ place. After graduation, we’d married but lived with Mom and Dad until Wyatt was two.
The reason I didn’t miss a Monday dinner was because Mom and Dad had helped us r
aise Wyatt those first two years. Mom had taught Moira how to feed him and rock him to sleep. She had taught me how to change a diaper and make a bottle for a midnight feeding. Dad had been Wyatt’s doctor from the moment he screamed his first breath.
When my parents had needed a break, Moira’s had stepped in to help.
Mom didn’t ask me for much. Monday dinners weren’t mandatory but I knew she looked forward to them. It was her special evening to spend with her husband, son and grandson.
Wyatt had been with Moira this past week. The great thing about us living in the same town, ten minutes from one another, was he had two rooms. He stayed with her for a week to ten days, then he’d come and stay with me for the same.
Now that he was a teenager and had his own vehicle, we didn’t dictate custody schedules. Plus he was a good kid, making sure he spent time with us both.
This stretch at Moira’s was going on seven days, and I missed him. We texted. I called him every day. But it was strange not to see him every night. With his summer football practice schedule and the job he’d taken running takeout around town, he was busy. It was the reason I ordered takeout most nights when he wasn’t at my place. He was forced to come see me.
That, and no matter where he was staying, he came to Monday dinner.
As much as I wanted to see Londyn tonight, I needed my son more.
“Want me to go pick up pizza?” I asked Mom.
“You’re coming?”
“I just pulled into the driveway.”
She hung up on me and had the screen door open before I’d even shut off my truck. As long as it was light out and the temperature was above fifty degrees, Mom kept her front door open with only the screen to block the bugs.
She shooed me away as I walked to the door. “You can go.”
“I’ll stay.” I met her by the door, bending to kiss her cheek.
“Go. Besides, your son just texted me. Apparently, no one but me and your father want pizza tonight.”
My forehead furrowed, taking my phone from my pocket. “Wyatt didn’t text—never mind.”
Wyatt: I got offered an extra shift tonight. Can I take it?
He was desperately trying to save money for college.
Me: Sure.
Wyatt: Coming home tonight. Be there about ten.
Me: Drive safe.
“He’s working,” I told Mom, tucking my phone away again. But I’d get to see him tonight.
“He’s a hard worker, that boy. Like his daddy.” She nudged my elbow. “Go. Do what you need to do. I’ll cook something fancy next Monday to make up for this week.”
“Are you sure?”
She smiled. “I’m sure.”
“Thanks, Mom.” I kissed her cheek once more, then turned and jogged to my truck. I waved goodbye as I pulled away, then headed toward town, calling the motel as I drove.
“Hi, Meggie. Say, I need a favor.”
“Is this seat taken?”
Londyn’s head whipped my way. “What are you doing here? I thought you were busy.”
“Change of plan.” I pulled out the stool by her side, leaning my elbows on the counter.
The diner was packed. Every booth was taken and all the tables in the middle of the room occupied. Besides the stool I’d just claimed, only two others were empty.
The waitress brought over a menu, but I waved it away.
“You’re not eating?” Londyn asked.
“I am, but I don’t need a menu. I’ve ordered the same thing in this diner for the past fifteen years. A cheeseburger with extra pickles and no onion. Fries. A chocolate shake. This waitress is new to town, otherwise she wouldn’t have bothered with the menu.”
Londyn blinked.
“What? I’m hungry.” I shrugged. “It was a busy day.”
“Uh-huh,” she muttered. “What are you doing here?”
I spun in my stool, giving her my full attention as I leaned in close. The vanilla scent of her hair caught my notice, the sweetness beating out even the grease wafting from the kitchen. The shuffle of forks and knives, the drone of conversation in the background, all disappeared.
Our noses were practically touching. No one in the room would mistake my intention, Londyn included. “I’m here for you, honey.”
A smile tugged at the corner of her luscious mouth.
The kiss in the garage had replayed in my mind on a loop today. The memory of her soft lips and the slide of her tongue had distracted me more than once as I’d worked. I didn’t care that we were in a restaurant full of people. I needed another taste.
“Here you go, ma’am.” The waitress broke the moment, bringing back the noise, as she slid a plate in front of Londyn.
“You ordered pie?” And not just one slice but three. The diner’s famous apple—my favorite—the chocolate cream and Wyatt’s favorite, cherry.
“I did.” She picked up her fork. “I used to go to the grocery store as a kid and buy the pies they had on sale. You know, the day-old ones they sell cheap. When I was living with my parents, I’d hide in my bedroom and eat the whole thing myself. At the junkyard, I’d buy one if I had the money and share. But then diets and exercise became a thing and I didn’t eat pie for dinner anymore. Tonight, I said fuck it.”
I chuckled. “Good for you.”
“When was the last time you had pie for dinner?”
“Can’t say I ever have.”
Her fork dove into the chocolate cream. She hummed and her eyes drifted closed when the bite passed her lips. She savored it, rolling it around in her mouth. The woman had a talented tongue—lucky pie. She moaned again, torturing me with the subtle sound.
She swallowed, then shot me a smile that was pure sex. “You’re missing out.”
I snapped my fingers, raising my hand in the air to flag down the waitress. When she came over, I pointed to Londyn’s plate. “I’ll have that.”
Londyn laughed, going in for another bite.
It didn’t take the waitress long to serve up my pie. I dug into the apple first. “Damn, that’s good. I’ll probably give myself a bellyache with this, but I’m not leaving a bite behind.”
“Some mistakes are worth the consequences.”
“True,” I said. “What was the last mistake you made that you didn’t regret?”
She tilted up her chin and cast her eyes upward, the way she did whenever she was thinking over one of my questions. When she had her answer, she looked at me with those bright green eyes sparkling. “I wasn’t paying attention to the road when I got that flat tire. I was mad at myself at the time. Now, not so much.”
“I’m rather fond of that flat tire, myself.”
Londyn giggled, taking a stab at the cherry. “Your turn.”
A mistake I didn’t regret? Easy answer. Wyatt.
I opened my mouth to tell her about him but stopped short. He was the most important person in my life. He was my pride and joy. And though I was fond of Londyn, before I shared him with her, I’d share her with him first.
Tonight. I didn’t need Moira to make an under-the-breath comment about how I was hooking up with a woman from the motel.
Wyatt had been after me to start dating again, probably because he’d had a string of girlfriends this past year. He was a star on the football and basketball teams and had inherited my tall build. After the games, the girls all flocked his direction.
Thankfully, he had more common sense than I’d had at his age, and he assured me he hadn’t had sex yet. And when he did, he promised to be safe.
I shoved another bite in my mouth to stop myself from bragging about my son. The praise was begging to be set free. Instead, I found a different answer to her question.
“The shop. About three years after I took it over from Granddad, I had a guy ask if he could buy it. I got greedy and asked for twice what he’d offered. He told me to shove it and left town. After that, I regretted it for years. Until one day, I just . . . didn’t. I wouldn’t give that shop up for anything in the world.”
>
Someday, I’d pass it down to Wyatt if he had any interest. At the moment, I was just glad it was me and not some other lucky bastard who had the only tow truck in town and had been sent to rescue Londyn.
“I’m glad you didn’t sell your shop,” she said. “We don’t know each other well, but I honestly can’t imagine you doing anything else.”
“Same here.” I’d found my dream job at eighteen. Not many could say that.
We ate the rest of our pies, talking about nothing, until both plates were clear and my stomach bulged. I paid the check, shooting Londyn a scowl when she reached for her purse. Then I followed her out of the diner, ignoring the eyes on us as I placed my hand on the small of her back.
“May I give you a ride?” I asked, waving to my truck down the block.
“How’d you know where I was? Wait.” She held up her hand. “Let me guess. Meggie.”
“You’d be correct.” I walked to the truck.
Londyn stayed on the sidewalk. “If I get in with you, what kind of payback can I expect from your ex-wife?”
I grumbled and kicked at a stone on the sidewalk. “I don’t know. I don’t know what she’s thinking.”
She wasn’t, that was the problem. Moira had likely done her worst already, but I also hadn’t had a woman in my life like Londyn. Sure, the others had been nice. I’d enjoyed dating them. But Londyn was different. There was passion and urgency. She was leaving and I was determined to make the most of this while I had the chance.
We were moving at warp speed here—no choice otherwise. That wouldn’t escape Moira’s notice. Neither would the hole left behind when Londyn left Summers.
“It doesn’t matter.” She stepped off the curb, meeting me by the door. “I’m not scared of your ex-wife.”
Of course she wasn’t. I grinned. “Good.”
“We have an audience,” she whispered.
“Yep,” I whispered back. “Why do people think that just because I’m standing outside and they’re sitting inside behind a window, we can’t see them?”
Londyn giggled. “I can feel them staring.”
“I want to kiss you.” I inched closer.
Londyn rose up slightly off her heels. “But you probably shouldn’t.”