What He Wants

by Jessie Gussman

  He was right. She knew it. She probably knew it just as well as he, since she was a public defender. It was just that when one wanted something as badly as she did, rational thought had a tendency to disappear.

  “Thank you.” She wished there was more she could say or do.

  “I’ve figured out a way to keep those lips occupied, so you’d better stop saying that.”

  She smiled. “For a smart man, you’re awfully slow sometimes.”

  He grinned back. “I was too busy looking at you to think about what to do with you.”

  “Wish I could have seen you change those diapers tonight.”

  His ears turned red. “Get Jamal to tell you about it in the morning. Poor kid’s stomach muscles will be sore from all the laughing he did.”

  “I bet.” She could only hope Jamal took a video.

  “That and trying to get them stuffed into their sleepers.”

  She nodded. “It’s not easy.”

  His fingers trailed over her back. “I’m spending the week at Mrs. Ford’s garage. Know where it is?”

  “I think so.” She’d never been there, but she knew where the hill was that Mrs. Ford’s house sat on. She made a mental note to call the contacts that she’d made today back and let them know where they could send the work.

  “Jamal’s welcome to spend some time there after school if you want to drop him off. Can’t really watch the twins for you unless you have a cage to put them in.”

  “They make play yards.” She didn’t really need him to watch the twins, but it could be an excuse for her to see him.

  “Bring ’em.”

  “Just for this week?”

  “Definitely this week. I don’t know about next.”

  “Okay. Did someone open Tyke’s old garage?”

  “Me.”

  Her head popped up. “Torque, that’s wonderful!”

  “Yeah. Just everything has to work out.”

  “I’m sure it will.”

  He wasn’t as sure, but he had a lot of hope.

  “Listen.” He leaned back far enough to cup her cheeks in his hands. “I don’t want you to think I haven’t dreamed about us or that what I feel for you isn’t strong and beating on the inside of my chest like pistons in an engine.” His hands shook. “But those kids need you. And I’m in the way.”

  “I need you.”

  He shook his head. “Look at what you’ve done without me.”

  “I want you.”

  “I want you.” He lifted his hands from her face and held them up. “So much I’m trembling with it.” He backed up, and she let her hands slide away.

  “There’s got to be a way.” The words came out in a passionate whisper.

  “When you find it, you let me know.” He gave a little smile. “We’re friends?”

  Her throat clogged, and her voice sounded broken. “I know that’s what it has to be.”

  “Good. You come to grips with that, and I’ll try not to rip the throat out of whatever man you find to be a daddy to those little ones.” His smile looked more like a snarl with teeth.

  She wanted to say she’d find a way around. That there was a possibility for them. But it wasn’t true. And she wasn’t sure how far she’d actually go to keep the twins that she considered hers. Would she marry a stranger? What if that ended up like the nanny situation? She supposed she could divorce him, but there would be custody issues...unless she had an ironclad prenup. It would work. But that would mean walking away from Torque. She couldn’t forget that he’d not walked away from her. He’d stood among the wreckage and taken the hit.

  He was right. But she walked over to where he’d stopped by the counter and slipped her hands around his waist again. “Kiss me goodbye. Make it a long one.” She’d never tried to be seductive, but it came out low and husky and it worked on Torque like a torch to gas. And she went up right along with him.

  Chapter 17

  “How would you feel about going to the garage with me today,” Torque asked his gram when he walked into the kitchen before daylight the next morning.

  She sat at the kitchen table, her Bible open in front of her. Same place she’d been every morning of his life.

  Her old blue eyes lifted in surprise. “Really? You can do that?”

  “Sure. Probably. Mrs. Ford was there most of the day yesterday with her quilting or something. I remember you being a part of that years ago.” He’d missed so much time with his gram, and he’d figured last night—the small amount of time that he’d not spent reliving every second of his kisses with Cassidy—that he could spend time with Gram and she’d enjoy renewing her quilting friends.

  Gram nodded slowly. “Can’t believe you remember.”

  “How could I forget? They gave us boys all a quilt after Mom died.” A little pang always touched his heart when he thought about her dying. It didn’t hurt as bad as it used to. He supposed there’d always be a hole in his heart where she used to be.

  “Yes. Kind of them.” She rose slowly and reached for her cane. “I need to get ready and pack a bag. I assumed we won’t be coming home until late.”

  “You can drive us over and leave whenever you want. I’ve been walking.”

  “I know, son. I thought your license renewal came in the mail?”

  It had. He just didn’t have the money to get it. Actually, he had that check from John in the drawer. But he supposed his checking account at the bank had been closed due to inactivity, and he’d need to open another one.

  “Does Shelly still work at the bank?” he asked Gram as she puttered around the kitchen, getting ready.

  “Lands, no. She quit years ago after her second baby was born.”

  Well, he didn’t remember anyone else. Better put that on his to-do list. Right under “Forget about Cassidy” and “Don’t think about Cassidy” and “Definitely don’t think about kissing Cassidy.” There were other things on his list, but those were the ones running through his mind.

  “I’m ready whenever you are.” He opened the door to the fridge. His eyes landed on the eggs. Was Cassidy up cooking breakfast for the kids? It’d be more fun with two people in the kitchen. Heck, yeah, he could think of a lot of ways to have fun in the kitchen with Cassidy.

  He stared at the fridge. What was he even going to get? He couldn’t remember and shut the door.

  He was able to get Gram settled in the same spot Mrs. Ford had been the day before. Dragging the office chair out and placing it companionably beside his gram, he made sure she was fine then went back to the office and started the computer. He’d been dreading this part. He hadn’t worked with computers much before he went to prison, and now that he was out, everything seemed to be computerized.

  It was disconcerting to say the least. They had some old dinosaurs in the prison for the inmates to work on, and he’d put some time in there, just because he’d figured it was necessary. Thankfully the computer on the desk was about the same age as the ones in the prison, and he was actually able to get it on.

  Yesterday Tom had asked him to email his estimate to the insurance company. He hadn’t sent an email in years and wasn’t sure how to start. Out of desperation more than inspiration, he finally typed in “how do I send an email” and started to get things figured out.

  It felt like he was finally making some progress, although he still needed to type up the estimate from his handwritten notes, when a customer pulled in. Turned out to be someone Turbo had sent. He got right to work replacing the brakes and drums, waved at Mrs. Ford when he realized she was sitting with Gram in the chair he’d gotten for her, and promptly lost track of all time. Inmates had talked about getting in the “zone,” but none of them ever described it about their work. Kissing Cassidy had taken over the number one spot on his list of things he loved to do, as he’d figured it would, which is why he’d resisted for so long. But doing diesel repair was a close second.

  Gram and Miss Angelina made him stop for fifteen minutes and eat lunch. Another two customers ca
me in, bringing enough work for two more days, and Tough stopped by. After looking things over, he made a parts run, coming back with his old Ford—one or two models newer than a Model T, at least that’s how Torque described it—loaded down with boxes and hoses and clamps, nuts, bolts, and other odds and ends. Tough unloaded it all at the front of the garage. Torque didn’t realize what he’d been doing until he stepped around the back of the truck he was changing the airbag on.

  “What’s this?” He put his hands on his hips.

  Tough dropped a box, which sounded heavy, and strode casually back out to his truck.

  ’Course he wasn’t going to answer. It was Tough after all. Torque figured if you couldn’t beat ’em, join ’em, and he helped finish unloading the old pickup.

  Tough disappeared into the office for a few minutes, while Torque looked through the stuff on the floor. Several thousand dollars’ worth of truck parts.

  Tough came to the door of the office and stuck a hand against the jamb, leaning on it. “I left the receipts in the desk drawer. They’re paid. I’ll come looking for reimbursement after Christmas.” He slapped the jamb and walked forward. “I left a thousand bucks in cash beside those receipts. That’s yours.”

  “I’m not taking a grand from you.”

  “Figured you wouldn’t. ’Member that dent in the bumper of your pulling truck, you couldn’t figure out what happened?”

  Torque nodded slowly, vaguely remembering the big Texas bumper he’d had on his pulling truck. So big and low, it’d almost dragged on the ground. He’d spent hours putting hundreds of dollars’ worth of lights in it. Someone had taken it for a joyride and dented the bumper beyond repair. Since he’d been the one who left the keys in the truck, he was the one who had paid the garage he worked for, and who owned the truck, for the repairs.

  He’d never figured out who did it.

  “Me.” Tough gave a little grin. “Gotta get back to the shop.”

  Torque shoved his shoulder, turning him so he could grab his hand. Tough allowed it, grabbing Torque’s hand and putting his other arm around his back, pulling him in for a brotherly hug. Torque fought the sting of tears. His brothers had come through for him in a way he hadn’t imagined.

  Tough pulled back and started out the door. “Talk to Turbo. He charmed that lady at the bank years ago to do something special with your account. You’ll have to sign something to get it reopened, but all the money’s there, minus a few fees, probably.”

  “I’ll do it. Thanks.”

  Tough left, and Torque went back to work, back in his happy place where a man earned his bread with his hands and the labor of a strong back.

  Jamal’s voice broke into his concentration, and he couldn’t believe three hours had flown by. He grinned from the creeper when the little boy’s head popped under the truck. “I found him.”

  His grin faded as Cassidy’s feet came into view. How could a woman be so perfect that even her feet made his heart pound?

  He slid out and rolled to his feet. “Hey.”

  Her smile warmed his heart. “I left the twins in the car so they would stay clean. I can’t stay.”

  “That’s fine. I’ll bring Jamal home, probably around eight.” He wished he weren’t so dirty, because his hands itched to slide around her waist and ease the knots out of her back, but it was probably better if he didn’t touch her.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind?” Cassidy bit her lip.

  He looked at Jamal who stood to the side, listening. He grinned at the boy. Maybe Jamal wouldn’t end up being a mechanic, but Torque could remember his own childhood and how he’d loved hanging out at the garage. It had given him a sense of purpose and direction and had made him feel like he belonged somewhere.

  “Jamal is welcome to be here anytime.”

  She smiled again, and Torque’s heart quivered. “Oh.” She dug into her purse. “I got you this.” She pulled out a phone. “I got it during my lunch hour. I actually took a lunch hour. There’s a plan with it. If I stuck it on with mine, I got a deal, so I did that to begin with. We’ll work things out later. Anyway, if you need some help figuring things out, Jamal helped me figure out mine, so he’s gold with that.”

  Torque gritted his teeth. It galled to take something from her. He wanted to be the provider. But at the same time, his whole body felt gratitude that she’d thought of him and taken the time to do something this considerate.

  “Don’t even look at me like that. You’re taking this. And this,” she held up a sticky note, “has your new number and the passcode I had to put on your phone. It’s all set up and ready to use.”

  His mouth opened then closed.

  “Just say ‘thanks,’” she said, one hand on her hip.

  “Thanks.”

  “I’m taking it in and setting it on your desk.”

  “Okay.”

  The ladies had been quietly sitting in the corner, and Torque had kind of forgotten about them. “Come back out, and I’ll introduce you to the Kicking Quilters.”

  Her brow furrowed, but her lips tilted up. “Okay?”

  “Come on, Jamal.”

  Jamal skipped after him. He introduced his gram and Miss Angelina. By the time they’d asked him how old he was and what grade he was in, Cassidy was back.

  “And this is his mother, Cassidy Kimball.”

  His gram’s eyes narrowed, as though she was remembering something. He didn’t think she knew about him meeting Cassidy, and she definitely didn’t know about the accident, or at least shouldn’t. But Gram had ways of finding things out. When he was really young, he felt like she had spies out everywhere.

  “Good to meet you, Cassidy,” Miss Angelina said.

  They shook hands and chatted a bit.

  “I need to run. The girls are in the car.” She waved a paper in the air. “I assume you had this estimate in there by the computer because you needed to type it out and send it?”

  “Yeah.” Torque rubbed his neck. “I just haven’t gotten to it.” He’d rather be out fixing something than sitting in front of the computer, frustrated.

  “I think I can get that done at home before you get there.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “I have a few briefs I need to go over, and a couple of other things, but maybe if you stay and help Jamal with his homework?”

  “It’s a deal.”

  Jamal smiled and held his fist out. Torque bumped it. Cassidy gave them a look he didn’t quite get then waved the paper and walked away.

  Miss Angelina said, “Let me know next time if Jamal is going to be here after school. Little boys come home hungry and need a snack.” She set her quilting down and looked at Gram. “Want to come with me? I think I can still find something that would help a little stomach feel happy.”

  Gram nodded, and they stood up together.

  Jamal’s mouth opened like he couldn’t quite believe that someone so old could know so much about little boys.

  Torque turned back to the truck he’d been working on. “You ever been in a garage, Jamal?”

  “Nope.”

  “Well, this is called a creeper. There’s another one leaning against the wall over there. See it?”

  “Yep.”

  “Grab that, and you can roll under here with me. I’m just tightening the nuts up on this airbag. I’ll teach you what a wrench is.”

  “Rad.” Jamal skipped over and grabbed the creeper, doing exactly what Torque would have done at his age, which was to set it on the floor and use it like a skateboard to come back to the truck.

  Time flew by, and it was seven thirty before he knew it. Jamal had mentioned that he was hungry a few times, and Torque’s own stomach was rumbling.

  They cleaned the garage, took Miss Angelina up to her house, and drove Gram home where Torque took a five-minute shower and changed out of his dirty clothes before Jamal and he walked to the apartment. Torque had his phone and handed it to Jamal.

  “I’ve been teaching you some garage stuff. Ho
w about you see if you can crack my thick head about this?”

  “Piece of cake.” Jamal took the phone and started swiping and clicking.

  “Whoa. Slow down. Like way down.”

  “Old man.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Truth hurts.”

  “Sure does. Start out with something simple. Like, how do I make calls on it?”

  Jamal went slower, and by the time they’d reached the apartment, Torque was pretty confident he could at least make his own phone calls.

  Cassidy opened the door after their first knock. Immediately Torque could tell something serious was wrong. Her eyes were pinched and red, her mouth tight, her smile forced. She hadn’t changed from her work clothes and still wore her heels.

  Supper was on the table, however, and the twins were happy in their high chairs. Jamal didn’t notice anything amiss, and Cassidy shook her head at Torque’s questioning look. He didn’t have the right to reach out and put his arm around her as he longed to do, but it only took him three-quarters of a second to do it anyway.

  She sagged against him immediately. He wrapped both arms around her. He tilted his head down and whispered in her ear. “You’re telling me after the kids are in bed, right?”

  “Yes.” Her voice cracked, and Torque’s heart broke. Whatever had her so upset, he wanted to fix it right now. He fisted his hands behind her back, trying to resist the urge to do something.

  They sat at the table, and he helped her feed the twins. Jamal put away two platefuls in between rambling almost nonstop about all the exciting things he’d done at the garage. It made Cassidy smile, which eased some of the tightness in Torque’s chest.

  Jamal took a shower while Torque cleaned up the table and Cassidy got the twins down and ready for their bath. Torque helped Jamal with his homework, then Cassidy read to him. All in all, the evening flew by, but Torque could barely contain himself by the time Cassidy walked slowly out from the hall.

  He wasn’t used to seeing her shoulders slumped and her head down. The Cassidy he knew was confident. A problem-solver. Smart and resourceful. Whatever happened had blown all that away.