Torque looked up into the crinkled blue eyes of a fellow in his fifties. He wore a button-up shirt that hung over his protruding belly, loose jeans. A chain, probably hooked to his wallet, hung down almost to his knees.
“Yeah.”
“Heard you were back in town. Name’s John.” He walked forward with his hand out. “Are you open for business, or what?”
Torque stood behind the desk and shook. “Depends on what you need.”
“Uh, okay. Not sure. I’ve got this vibration in my steering wheel. Had it for a while, but it got worse this morning. Called a couple different garages, and the earliest they can get me in is next week. ’Fraid she’s not going to last until then.”
Torque tried to still the jumping excitement in his chest. He kept his voice steady. “Make and model?”
“359 Pete.”
Nice. An old truck. “I can figure out what the problem is. Can’t guarantee I can fix it here. I don’t have any accounts set up, and I’m limited on parts.” He came around the desk. “Let’s see what it is first, then we’ll worry about how we’ll get it fixed.”
John shuffled his feet. “That’s great. I don’t want to lose any more work than I have to, and I definitely don’t want to break down along the road.”
Torque found the broken U-bolt right away. After digging around, he found one in the garage, so he made a note that he was using it—if he wasn’t able to come up with the money to rent the place, he was definitely going to pay back all the parts he used—jacked the frame up to remove the old one, and stuck the new one on.
By two o’ clock, John was gone. A check for the U-bolt and for two hours of shop rate labor lay in the top desk drawer in the office.
Torque looked around. He’d seen Mrs. Ford when he was in the shop a while ago, but she’d disappeared since he’d walked into the office and settled up with John. He headed into the garage and waited for his eyes to get used to the dimmer lighting.
She sat on a chair over in the far corner. Her hands were moving... Torque squinted then strolled over. “Hey.”
She looked up. “Oh? John’s gone. Were you able to fix his truck?”
“Yeah.” He hesitated before adding, “It was a U-bolt.”
“Oh. Not a big deal then,” she said.
Hmm. So, maybe she knew a little something about trucks. Made sense since her husband had a garage.
Her hands dropped to her lap, and her brows knotted. “Do you mind if I sit here? I’m not checking up on you, but after the girls moved out, I often brought my quilting down to the garage. I kept Tyke company, and he kept me company.” Her lip trembled slightly. “I can go back to the house if I make you nervous.”
“Love it.” He did. After his mom died, it felt like the hole she left in his heart never completely healed. Mrs. Ford would never be his mom, but her presence felt like salve over his wound. “If I stay, I’ll get you a table and a more comfortable chair.”
Her eyes filled up, and her smile trembled. “Thank you.”
He nodded. “Thank you for giving me this week.”
She looked down at her hands holding the material in her lap. Her voice came out soft. “Do you think you’ll stay?”
He took a breath, wanting with every fiber of his being to be able to say yes, but he had to be honest. “Not sure how I’m going to pull it together.”
She nodded. She’d been the wife of a business owner long enough that she surely knew hard decisions sometimes had to be made. The rumble of a truck interrupted his thoughts.
“Got company,” he said.
“Got a customer,” she corrected. “That’s Tom’s tow truck, or I didn’t spend twenty years sitting in this garage listening to diesel motors.”
He hardly thought that she could actually recognize Tom’s truck, but when he walked out the door, it was Tom sitting in the big parking lot, hooked to a yellow Freightliner. He was climbing out of his truck, and Torque walked over. A small bit of excitement built in his chest, like sprouts pushing out of an acorn. Could this really be more work?
“Torque.” Tom grinned as he walked over, slightly hunched as though his back bothered him.
They shook.
Tom lifted up his cap, shoving a calloused hand through his sparse hair. “Turbo called me a little bit ago. Said you’s opening up shop here, and if I had any business I could direct your way, he’d appreciate it.”
Torque’s throat tightened. Turbo had never said a word. Gosh, it felt good to be back out where his brothers had his back. Before he’d gone up, Turbo had been a gangly teen, full of fun and pranks like skipping class to go roof-surfing past the school. He’d followed Torque around at the garage, always with a grin and a joke.
But this wasn’t a joke.
“I happened to get a call today from the police. It’ll be an insurance job.”
Torque sighed inside. An estimate first. Good money if he got the job, but slow. It wouldn’t save him. Still, he wasn’t going to turn it down.
“I ain’t forgot what you did for my boy.”
Torque lifted a shoulder, brushing it off. “Wasn’t anything.”
“Was to him. You won that truck pull, took my boy down the track beside you for exhibition...you might not understand, but to someone like him, with that simple kind of mind...he sat in the passenger seat and waved. Thought it was the best thing ever. Believe it or not, he still talks about it.”
He’d had the option of taking Cassidy, since she was the fair queen, but he’d opted for the boy with Down’s syndrome. It was safer. Cassidy? Well, he’d seen her later that night. Alone. “I’m far from building a pulling truck, but he’s welcome here at the shop, as long as I’m here.”
“We’ll see. Maybe some Saturday. He’s got a program he’s in, lets him work a job that’s not too hard for him to handle. Boy does good.” He slapped his leg.
“Good.” Torque didn’t add that he might not be here. Might as well act like it was his. Maybe someday it would be. “’Preciate the business.”
“Ya need to get a phone.”
As soon as he could afford it. “It’s on my list.”
“You can charge yard fee on this truck too. Going rate’s anywhere from two hundred to five hundred a day.”
He hadn’t considered that, and he thanked Tom for reminding him.
Tom backed the truck into the garage and left.
At eight o’ clock that evening, Torque wiped his hands on a rag, feeling much better about his business than he had to start the day. He walked over to where Mrs. Ford, no, Miss Angelina—she’d insisted he call her that—was putting her quilting away.
“Word has sure gotten around,” she said with crinkled eyes and a big smile.
“Yeah.” For the hundredth time that day, he made a mental note to thank Tough who had sent a diesel pickup over and also a T Tag dump, both of which had stopped at his place to get worked on, but he didn’t handle diesels, and the dump was bigger than what he normally handled.
Torque also needed to thank Turbo who had apparently used his CB to tell everyone he passed that day that Torque Baxter was back in town. He needed to get his inspection license, since he’d turned two people away for that. He also needed to get a phone.
Miss Angelina tucked the piece she’d been working on into her bag and stood to go.
“I’ll drive up to the house with you then walk back down and lock up.”
Miss Angelina walked over to Torque, reached one hand up, and patted his cheek. “Thank you, son. This is almost like my Tyke was still alive.”
“I’m the one that needs to be thanking you. I don’t deserve this opportunity, but I’m grateful for it. Just hope it works out.”
“If it’s meant to be, it will.”
He drove her up, parked her buggy, and made sure she got into the house okay, declining her offer of a late supper. After walking back down, he went inside the garage, checking to make sure everything was away for the night. He’d not been entrusted with this much responsibilit
y for a long time.
His back hurt, and so did his feet. But he was wearing work boots and his own clothes, even if they were too small. His hands were dirty, and he’d spent the day in good, honest labor. He felt like a man again. It was a feeling he wouldn’t take for granted.
He also felt optimistic for the first time in ages. So long, he’d almost forgotten what it felt like—eagerness to get going on the next day. Excitement. The feeling of having a productive place in the world.
And, man...his brothers. They’d come through for him in a big way today. Neither one of them was completely normal. How could they be after their childhood? Felt good to be part of a family again.
He closed the door, pocketing the key. The only thing that could possibly make anything better would be if he were going home to his wife and children.
GRAM SAT AT THE KITCHEN table with an electronic tablet in front of her. Torque stopped and did a double take. His gram looked up over her glasses. “What? Ain’t used to an old lady that knows how to use the newfangled electronic gadgets?”
“Guess not.” Torque sat on the bench by the door and unlaced his boots. “I didn’t know you were into stuff like that.”
“Wasn’t.” She shrugged. “Cassidy Kimball convinced me to try it out.” Her wise blue eyes watched him shrewdly. “I wasn’t the quickest learner, but she came over a bunch until I got the hang of it. Kinda thought like she was in cahoots with Tough and Turbo taking her turn watching me, but I did learn how to work the thing well enough that I can read my Bible in big print and get the latest ladies’ Bible studies up. I order my groceries on it sometimes, too.”
Torque nodded, toeing off his second boot and setting them neatly under the bench. Turbo and Tough both had their own homes, but while he’d been gone, they’d taken turns caring for Gram. Apparently, Cassidy had helped.
A new and somewhat surprising picture of Cassidy was emerging in his head.
“Seems like since you went to prison, that girl’s been Dolly Do-Gooder. Any idea why?” Gram closed the cover on her tablet and set it aside.
Cassidy had said something about paying, hadn’t she?
“But I think she’s finally bitten off more than she can chew with those kids. Hard enough to raise kids with a husband in the picture.” Gram shook her head and reached into the cupboard to get a bowl out.
“I can heat up my own supper. Relax, Gram.” He tried to take the bowl from her.
“Sit, boy.” She pulled the bowl away from him. “I ain’t too old and decrepit to feed my grandson. Take it easy.” She scooped some vegetable soup into his bowl.
Torque’s mouth watered. Gram called it vegetable soup, but she always put a whole roast in with the veggies. Whatever spices and anything else she put in combined to make it taste amazing. It smelled amazing. They sure didn’t make stuff like this in prison.
She put the bowl in the microwave and pushed the buttons.
“In fact...” His gram turned and looked at him with that look he remembered well from childhood. She had a plan brewing behind her ice blue eyes, and he wasn’t going to like it. “In fact, I think once you eat, you and me ought to walk over to her apartment, and you can take her out for some ice cream. I owe her for all the help she gave me on that there electric thingy.” Gram nodded at her tablet.
“You owe her? So I pay her?”
“Yep.”
“With ice cream?”
“Don’t know too many girls that would turn down ice cream.”
Twenty minutes and a nice, leisurely stroll later, Torque knocked on Cassidy’s door. Gram hadn’t chatted much on the way over, and he’d had time to think. He’d told Cassidy to take it easy, get a new apartment, and a bunch of other things. Bossed her. But not helped her. Well, taking her out, even if it was just for ice cream, would get her away a little. Regardless, she needed support more than she needed him telling her what to do.
Gram stood beside him, impatiently tapping her cane on the ground. She didn’t really need the cane, but Turbo and Tough had cajoled and pleaded until she used it. Most of the time.
His hand was raised to knock again when the door opened and Cassidy stood outlined against the light, wearing soft, old jeans and a sweatshirt with the cuffs and neck frayed and the wording faded to unreadability.
Her eyes widened. His heart thundered. He took a breath to speak, but as was usual, Gram spoke first.
“Put shoes on. I told you I’d pay you back for helping me with that electronic thing, and Betty down at the post office has been telling me you’re needing a break. I’m sitting with the kids, and Torque’s treating you to ice cream.”
Cassidy stood statue-still, her hand still on the doorknob. Her spine straightened, and her chin came up.
Torque sighed silently. Sometimes Gram was a little much. Grown people didn’t appreciate being bossed around. Cassidy probably wanted to be ordered to take a break and get ice cream just as much as he wanted to show up at his gram’s side like an obedient dog.
But he’d been gone too long and not home long enough to have the will to fight his gram.
Cassidy, however, deserved better. He stepped forward, glad he’d insisted he needed to shower before showing up at her door. “I’m sorry I didn’t call. I—” He paused, realizing suddenly that he’d never asked a girl on a date before. Even an ice-cream date. He felt like a twelve-year-old with his gram standing beside him. His stomach tightened like a rusty motor with no oil. “I’d like to buy you ice cream.” Flashes of late-night rides, midnight air, and a big, fat moon shimmering on the horizon tore through his head. Exotic fruit scented it all. Standing here in the hall, he could breath it in, full and deep. “Walk with me for a bit?”
She swallowed. Her eyes closed, and her hand gripped the door. Then the starch came back, and her head bent regally, somehow making him feel like she was looking down rather than up. “I’d love to,” she said.
Her voice trembled ever so slightly, and he wondered which signal was the true Cassidy. The regal air? Or the vulnerable insecurity?
“Come in for a minute while I throw shoes on.” She opened the door farther, and Torque followed his gram in, pushing the door shut behind them.
He leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb while Cassidy rattled off instructions to Gram, even though the kids were all in bed. She pulled on worn, brown cowgirl boots with blunt toes. Torque didn’t bother to try to look away. Her graceful movement, her slim hips and the soft curve of her waist, her long, shiny hair which hung down her back in soft waves—he had dreamed about it all in prison. She was here now, standing in front of him, and he wasn’t going to deny himself the pleasure of looking.
“I got it. I have your number, and I’ll call you if anything comes up. It’s not like he’s taking you to France.” Gram waved them off.
Torque opened the door. Cassidy’s hand hovered above her purse.
“You don’t need it.” Torque held the door.
She gave him a tight smile. Was she nervous? Finally, she left the purse on the counter, pushing her phone into her back pocket, and walked out the door ahead of him.
He caught his gram giving him a shrewd look as he closed the door. Maybe Gram had ulterior motives for what she’d done tonight. Probably. Gram wasn’t slow. But he wasn’t sure what her thoughts were. He just knew his. He wanted Cassidy to have a good time. With him.
Chapter 13
Cassidy walked down the stairs in front of Torque. What was up with him just showing up? She couldn’t stop her heart from beating happily, but her head knew it wasn’t because he’d all the sudden decided that they were meant for each other.
He’d almost kissed her, then he’d walked away. After telling her everything that was wrong with her life, first, of course. She should be angry. Only, he was right.
He opened the outside door, and she stepped out onto the sidewalk. She turned and faced him. “You were right.”
His feet planted. “About what?”
She put her hands on her hip
s and tilted her head. “I wasn’t being fair to my kids. You’re out and free. I feel like I still owe you, but I need to stop making decisions based on whether or not I can enjoy my life.”
His jaw tightened. “You don’t owe me.” He looked out over the parking lot. In a tight t-shirt, his shoulders seemed extra broad. “I don’t want to make anything harder for you, but there’s nothing you can do to get those years back for me. It’s over. I didn’t do it thinking that you were going to pay me.”
“Then why?”
He touched her arm. “Let’s walk.” His hand slid down the sensitive skin on her forearm, past her wrist. Their fingers tangled and held. She breathed in the early fall air. Warm and slightly scented with the spicy smell of falling leaves and resting earth. Torque’s male scent, that one that was all his own, pushed the old memories of happier times and hot summer nights closer to the front of her mind.
“I’m not used to walking with you.”
“Yeah. We can drive if you want, but we’ll have to take your car.”
“I miss your old truck.”
He was quiet for a few steps. “Guess that’s the least of the things that were lost that night.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to apologize again, but he seemed irritated when she did and she couldn’t blame him. Apologies didn’t do any good. That’s why she’d made sure her actions counted.
“We don’t have to be serious tonight, do we?” he asked softly.
What was it like to not be serious? She couldn’t even remember. With law school, then her job, plus working to secure the mentorship program—it was a good program, but she did have an ulterior motive—now with the kids.
“I’m not sure I remember how.”
Torque changed direction, pulling her with him. “Maybe I can remind you.”
They were headed out of town. “Where...?”
He laughed. “It’s pretty warm out tonight...”
“No!” She laughed. “You are not getting me to go swimming.”
“Not swimming.” He laughed with her and swung their linked hands between them.
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