Just Kidding

by Vale, Lani Lynn

“That could’ve happened to anyone!” I countered.

  “Sure,” he agreed. “But wasn’t it also you that drove Mom’s Tahoe to the store last night and…”

  I gasped and pointed at him. “You said you wouldn’t tell!”

  Mom’s attention was now fully on me.

  “What did you do, Row?” Mom asked.

  I sighed, shooting my brother a murderous look.

  “Some guy dinged it,” I said. “He was old and could barely walk. So I don’t really think it’s something we should pursue, even though he gave me his information.”

  Mom scrunched up her nose.

  “I was hoping to fix it before you noticed,” I admitted. “It shouldn’t cost too much.”

  Dad turned to Dax then.

  “I’ll pay you gas money and pay for a hotel for the night if you can take her this weekend,” he said, taking the empty tea jugs from him and shoving them into a big black trash bag.

  Dax was already nodding his head, his eyes on me.

  “I can leave Friday around eight in the morning after my workout,” he offered. “That’ll give us about four workable hours during business hours. Is that enough time to get done what you need to get done?”

  I was already nodding my head, even though my knees were starting to feel weak.

  “Great,” he said as he walked to the sink and washed his hands. “It’s a plan.”

  With that, he shook my brother’s and Dad’s hands, then walked out the door and didn’t look back.

  “He’s such a good kid,” Mom sighed.

  Good? That wouldn’t be the word I would use to describe him, that’s for sure.

  Chapter 5

  I’m a F-bomb girl. I sprinkle that shit like confetti.

  -Rowen to Katy

  Rowen

  “Thank you for the ride,” I said to my dad the next morning.

  My dad rolled his eyes.

  “Love you. Be careful.” He paused. “And don’t run over any more curbs.”

  I sighed and got out of the truck but stopped to look at him before closing the door.

  “It’s not my fault,” I said. “I was distraught.”

  “And what happened when you hit my parked cruiser when you were sixteen? Or when you…”

  I held up my hand. “Must you bring those up every time?”

  Dad’s face turned into a grin.

  “Meet me for lunch?” he asked, sounding hopeful.

  Of course.

  “Where and when?” I asked, never one to turn down a lunch. Especially not one with my father.

  Luke hadn’t always been my dad.

  At one point, some man that hadn’t paid much attention to me had been. Then Luke had come along, and my father had passed away.

  Luke had treated me with kindness that he hadn’t had to show me, and over time, I’d learned to trust him as a daughter would a father.

  When I was around eleven, I’d asked my mother why I didn’t have the same name as everybody else, and she’d been shocked that I would notice or care.

  It wasn’t even a week later that adoption papers were filed by Luke—my dad. From then on, I was officially Luke’s daughter. Not that I needed his last name to have that proven to me. He’d been my dad since my mother and he had gotten together.

  After getting a few more details for lunch straightened out, I got out of the car and waved.

  Dad didn’t blow me a kiss like my mom would have, but he did wink at me, which was almost the same thing for my tough-as-nails father.

  Grinning at his antics, I turned around and surveyed the large shop that my dad had taken my car to.

  Free Custom Motorcycles and Mechanic Shop read on the sign out front.

  It’d taken longer than I thought it should have to get my car fixed for only a small wheel, but when I walked into the open garage bay, I saw the reason why.

  They were slam packed with cars.

  When I’d asked my father why he’d brought it to Free, he’d explained that they were the best in town.

  I mean, yeah, we’d always brought our vehicles here for everything.

  But I’d never really understood why.

  Until I walked in and saw all the shiny bikes, high end cars, and then there was my little Mazda.

  “Can I help you?”

  I blinked, startled to find myself under the scrutiny of a scarred man that looked a lot like the man I couldn’t stop thinking about.

  Dax.

  “I’m here to get my car,” I pointed at the red coupe next to the big blue lift thing that had a car about ten feet in the air. “That’s mine.”

  The man turned to look at it, then nodded.

  “Hey, Lenny!” he shouted.

  A man appeared from the office with grease all over his hands and clothes, and a red rag in his hand.

  “Yeah, Max?” Lenny asked.

  “Can you get the ticket for Luke Roberts?”

  Lenny gave a ’10-4’ from the office, and Max turned to survey me.

  “You’ve grown up since I last saw you…” he hesitated.

  “And lost some hair,” I finished for him.

  Max grinned and pulled me into a tight hug.

  He let me go a few seconds later, and I marveled at how big he was.

  Just like his son.

  “What happened to your hair?” he wondered.

  I told him what happened, and when he started to scowl, I couldn’t help it anymore.

  “You look exactly like your son right now,” I told him. “When I saw him at the police station that first day, he was scowling just like that.”

  Max shrugged.

  “Raised him to treat a girl right,” he admitted. “The thought of that happening to a woman should be abhorrent.”

  “How much do I owe you?” I asked.

  Max was already shaking his head. “Not a thing.”

  “But…” I started.

  “Your dad already paid me in beer,” he told me.

  I opened my mouth, then closed it.

  “But…”

  That was when a bright red truck pulled into the lot and parked right in front of the open bay doors that we were standing in.

  I knew who it was before he’d even gotten out of the vehicle.

  I held my breath as Dax got out, one strong leg at a time.

  My belly clenched.

  “What are you doing in the truck today?” Max asked, bewildered. “It’s a beautiful day out.”

  Dax grimaced.

  “I had to pick up some stuff for Mom.” Dax’s eyes came to me where I was standing next to his father. “And I agree, it’s a beautiful day to ride.”

  I felt his words in the pit of my stomach and shivered.

  “Rowen,” he said, sounding calm and in control.

  I waved.

  “You’re here to get your car?” he guessed.

  That was when Lenny came out of the office with a set of keys in one hand and a white sheet of paper in the other.

  He handed them to Max who then handed the paper to me.

  “Let me back you out of there so you don’t end up hitting my garage,” he said.

  I gasped. “What the heck? Does my dad tell everyone that I can’t drive?”

  Max chuckled and tossed me a look over his shoulder.

  “I was there when you backed into a tree when you were eighteen. Remember?” he told me just as he maneuvered his large bulk into the front seat of my car.

  I turned to see the man chuckling beside me. The witness of my embarrassment.

  “You didn’t remember him being there for that?” Dax wondered.

  I scrunched up my nose.

  “I remembered,” I admitted. “I just hoped that he didn’t.”

  Dax burst out laughing at that.

  “That’s funny,” he said when he calmed down.

  Seconds later he was crowding me over to the side so that his father c
ould get past us. His hand was warm and solid on my elbow as he moved me. When I was out of the way, he still didn’t let go.

  I didn’t remind him that he was holding my hand, either.

  Mostly because it felt really good where it was at, and I knew that the moment I brought attention to it, he’d let me go.

  He held me like that for long moments before finally allowing my arm to slip from his grasp, and the moment his hand left my skin, I felt like my soul did, too.

  I ran my hands up and down the length of my arms as I tried to make myself warm again.

  “Cold?” he asked.

  I shrugged and said, “I should’ve brought a jacket.”

  It wasn’t cold, per se, but it definitely wasn’t summer anymore.

  “I…”

  “Here you go, darlin’,” Max said, coming to me with a set of keys.

  My keys.

  Those were my keys.

  I smiled as I extended a shaky hand in his direction.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  He winked and tossed a look at his son.

  “Your mother’s at home, boy,” he said. “If she needs you…”

  Dax snorted.

  “I was going to get a bottle of windshield fluid,” he said.

  His phone rang then, forcibly causing him to take a step back to answer it.

  I took that as my cue to go and stop looking so starry-eyed.

  “Thank you so much, Max,” I said. “I really appreciate it.”

  He winked and gestured to my car.

  “You do need new tires soon, though,” he said. “I can order some.”

  I was already staring at my tires in annoyance.

  “I just got some pretty good used ones,” I paused. “Though, if you’re telling me I’ll need new ones, that probably means that they weren’t ‘pretty good’ like the tire shop guy told me that they were.”

  Max scowled.

  “Where’d you get them?” he asked.

  I groaned.

  “Somewhere in San Antonio,” I admitted. “And probably somewhere that I won’t ever get my money back from.”

  Max chuckled at my annoyance.

  “Sometimes men like to take advantage of women because they don’t know any better,” he said. “Look on the bright side. If they were here, they’d probably get the shit beat out of them.”

  I agreed.

  My father wouldn’t have been happy to hear that I’d paid good money for some tires that were unsafe.

  When it came to his kids, Luke Roberts was a force of nature.

  I was just about to reply when Dax cursed, forgot all about his windshield fluid, then started back to his truck.

  “Dad,” Dax said as he shoved his phone into his pocket. “You’re gonna have to cancel on Mom for me. Some guy decided to hole himself up inside of a Taco Bell and demand his money back. They wouldn’t give it to him, so he pulled out a gun and is holding the entire place hostage.”

  Max winced.

  “10-4,” Max said. “Stay safe, kid.”

  Dax’s eyes turned to me. “See you tomorrow.”

  I felt Max’s eyes come to me and stay there.

  Dax left, leaving me with his father staring at me consideringly.

  “What?” I asked finally.

  “He’ll see you tomorrow?” He grinned.

  I shrugged.

  “Apparently he has something to do in San Antonio and he can do that with me so I can borrow his truck to move my stuff,” I said.

  Max started to chuckle.

  “He’ll learn.”

  Would he?

  I wasn’t so sure that I wanted him to learn.

  See, I had a feeling that I could really have a thing for Dax Tremaine if I allowed him to wiggle into my life.

  The thing was, if Theo’s dating Shondra had hurt, what would I do if I started to care for Dax and he began to do the same? Not necessarily Shondra, of course, but another woman. What if he found someone, and I was forced to sit on the sidelines and watch?

  That would totally and completely suck.

  I scratched my head and thanked Max for finishing my car.

  “I really appreciate it,” I said. “Unfortunately, I have to go. I need to run over to those duplexes that my brother’s living in and see if they have any vacancies. I tried to do that yesterday, but apparently the maintenance man electrocuted himself and the manager of them, who just so happened to be his wife, was out. After I’m done with that, depending on whether they have any openings, I need to go look at other places. And I need to go buy some essentials. I’m hoping someone has something that I can move into as soon as possible. My parents…” I let myself trail off and shuddered.

  Max started to laugh.

  I shot him a glare. “It’s really not funny.”

  His eyes shone.

  “The fact that your parents love each other, even after all these years, doesn’t make you happy?” he wondered.

  I frowned.

  “Well…” I paused. “They don’t have to love each other so loud. Do they?”

  Max ruffled my peach fuzz hair, and I shook my head.

  “Be happy, honey.” He paused. “It could be worse. They could be like my parents before they passed away. They didn’t even bother to do it in their room. Do you know how traumatizing it is to walk in on your parents having sex on the couch you spend a lot of your time on?”

  I didn’t even want to contemplate it.

  Honestly, I had a feeling that my parents didn’t usually contain themselves to just their bedroom. They were at least being considerate for my sake.

  But still.

  “Whatever.” I laughed. “Have a good one, Max.”

  Then, for good measure, I leaned forward and hugged him.

  Surprised at first, he took a few seconds to respond.

  But when he did respond, he gave a good hug.

  “Be careful, darlin’.”

  With that, he let me go, patted me on top of my bald head, then sauntered off into the office.

  I got into my car and watched him go, wondering if Dax would look that good at Max’s age.

  My guess was that he’d look better.

  ***

  I arrived at the apartment complex with a sense of worry.

  I had a feeling that I literally was about to be told no.

  There was no way in hell that these duplexes didn’t have a waiting list a mile and a half long.

  They were way too nice.

  In fact, nice didn’t even cover it.

  Each duplex pair was a little bit different from the next. The yard was rather spacious, and the builders hadn’t skimped even a little bit on anything.

  The wood was real, genuine wood. Nothing was wrapped with wood to make it look real but still stay on the cheap side. Nope, there were real cedar beams running this way and that.

  Hell, even the office was beautiful.

  Getting out of my car with a dejectedness that made my face look like a child pouting, I made my way inside the most beautiful office I’d ever seen.

  When I arrived inside, a stunning woman with flowing raven waves cascading down her back looked up and smiled.

  “Hello.” She waved.

  I immediately allowed my hand to trail down my bald head, hating the way her hair was so perfect.

  Mine used to be that perfect…

  “Do you happen to be Rowen?”

  I blinked, surprised.

  “Ummm, yes?” I said. “How did you know?”

  The beautiful raven-haired beauty smiled wider, displaying perfectly straight white teeth.

  She grinned and pointed at a note on her desk.

  “My name is Hastings,” she said. “My mom, who co-owns these duplexes with my dad, had a note on the desk to be on the lookout for you. Apparently, your brother stopped by to talk to her? And then I just got a call from my mom again that you were coming here to t
ake a look at our duplexes. Apparently, an old friend of my dad’s called and said that you were on your way. I’m supposed to show you our available unit.”

  My mouth fell open.

  “I can see you’re surprised,” she giggled. “Trust me, we don’t usually do this. But when a cop’s kid, or a cop’s brother, or a cop’s girlfriend needs a place to stay, we usually make accommodations. See, Dad was on the force for twenty years before he retired. He was tired, though, and decided to retire and do something that didn’t take quite so much concentration… and look where that got him. Electrocuted.”

  I blinked quickly a couple of times before shaking my head.

  “Uhhh,” I said. “Who is your dad?”

  “Baker Hughes,” she answered. “Do you know him?”

  I shook my head.

  “I might know his face,” I admitted, staring as she moved around the edge of the desk.

  Just as she was about to make it there, she stopped, backed up, then deliberately knocked a cup of pencils off the edge of the desk.

  She stared at them, then dropped down to her haunches and began picking them up.

  I stared, wide-eyed.

  Once she had them all up and in the perfect order, and I say perfect because she separated the greens from the yellows. The yellows from the blues. The blues from the reds—she set the cup gently back on the corner of the desk and stood up, smiling weakly at me.

  “Sorry,” she said. “I’m a bit of a mess.”

  I waved her concern away.

  “I think everyone is in some way, shape or form,” I told her.

  She snorted.

  “I have Tourette’s,” she admitted. “I just… I can’t help myself.” She paused. “But I guess knocking a cup of pencils off a desk is better than shouting out curse words.”

  My eyes widened. “Do you do that? Shout out curse words?”

  She looked miserable as she nodded. “I do.”

  I stayed silent, hoping that she would say more.

  “The Tourette’s was worse when I was a child,” she said as she gestured for me to follow her. “As I’ve grown into an adult, my tics have gotten a lot better. I experience vocal tics and fine motor tics. The vocal tics only come about when I’m under extreme stress. The fine motor ones are usually just me clenching my jaw, or blinking rapidly. Sometimes I have these urges to knock shit off things I walk past. Most of the time I can handle it, and ignore it, but there are times when I don’t bother to control the impulse. It’s not going to harm me in any way to knock a cup of pencils off. You know?”