After Hours (21 page)

Oh Lordy. Did I really want Kelly meeting her and Jack? It felt too personal. But
then that thought made me feel like a guy, all leery and compartmentalizing.

Kelly looked to me and I nodded, knowing it was way too rude to refuse. We headed
for the house.

“I’m Amber,” she said as we reached the steps. She was using a toned-down version
of the annoying, helpless-little-girl voice she employed when flirting.
Find me adorable!
it said, like our apple-cheeked faces didn’t scream the message loud enough.
Protect me, you big, strong, capable man!

“I’m Kelly. Nice to meet you.” They shook, Amber’s hand gulped by Kelly’s giant paw.

“And that’s my nephew Jack,” I said, nodding across the room to where his huge eyes
blinked at the stranger.

Kelly waved. “Nice truck. Mine’s blue, too.”

“This is my boo truck,” Jack said, then went back to playing, apparently satisfied
by Kelly’s vehicular credentials.

“Awful nice of you to come out and fix my sister’s car.” Amber was doing that other
thing that annoyed me, developing a mild Southern accent, the auditory equivalent
of parasol twirling. Unseen, I rolled my eyes.

“You thirsty?”

Kelly shook his head.

“Need anything?”

“Nope. I’m good.”

“Well alrighty,” Southern Amber said, sounding disappointed. “I’ll let you get to
work, then. Come in and get cleaned up when you’re done.”

Back outside, Kelly opened my hood and we dicked around for at least twenty minutes,
with no luck.

“I can’t fix this. Not without getting underneath it, and a jack’s not going to cut
it.”

“Shit.”

“But I brought a bar. I can tow you. Your hair looks nice, by the way.”

I suppressed a reflexive urge to preen. “Thanks. Can you recommend a garage near work?”

“Not really. But give me ’til tomorrow or Friday and I can probably fix you up.”

My stomach sank. I didn’t want to be beholden to Kelly for this. Having to call him
in the first place was disempowering enough.
Dependent
enough.

“You don’t have to. Maybe there’s a cheap place in Darren that could do it.”

“Just let me,” Kelly said, leveling me with his stare.

“Okay, fine. But not for free or anything.”

“For the cost of parts, if you need any.”

“And labor.”

Kelly wiped his hands on a rag, real slow and thorough, with his eyes narrowed. “Pay
me in some other way, if you want.”

My inner fuse lit in an instant, and it was a short one. It always became shorter
when I was near Amber. Like whatever impulsive chemicals we’d inherited from Mom surged
when we got close. It must have shown on my face, as Kelly spoke before I could berate
him for basically inviting me to prostitute myself for automotive favors.

“Whoa now, crazy-eyes. Chill. I’m only trying to flirt. Not subjugate some vulnerable
woman who can’t pay her fucking mechanic.”

It pinched the flame off, right before I exploded. My shoulders slumped and I abandoned
my outrage. “I’m paying you in money.”

“Fine.”

“Including labor.”

“I said fine.”

Why was I acting like such a douche about it, when Kelly was probably just trying
to be chivalrous?

Because he was behaving like a boyfriend about the situation, I realized. And I couldn’t
start thinking about him that way. I couldn’t let things start
feeling
that way, because . . .

Because why not?

“Hop inside and put it in neutral. You steer and I’ll push. We gotta move you down
to the road so I can get at your front bumper.”

It took a while, but we managed to get the car onto the edge of the street, and Kelly
backed his truck in front of it.

He started pulling tools out of his bed. I watched his arms flex in the waning daylight,
all covered in bruises and scars and black grease. Did I
like
him, like him? Probably. Was being with him, romantically, really such a terrible
idea . . . ?

I didn’t have the first fucking clue.

He was a good guy, but he put me on edge all the time. Made it so I couldn’t relax,
always monitoring myself to make sure I was sticking to my guns, retaining my independence.

But the sex was fucking insane.

But,
he needed way too much control, and so did I. If we wound up in a relationship, it’d
be an endless power struggle.

But the sex was
fucking insane.

I shook my head. What a dumb thing to even be debating. For all I knew, Kelly had
absolutely no interest in me, outside of some fuck-buddy arrangement. Which was possible.
Probable.

Did fuck buddies drive two hours roundtrip to tow their lays’ cars? Seemed a bit beyond
the call of duty—

Then I heard a noise that pulled me straight out of my internal argument and dropped
my heart into my gut. The distant thump of car-stereo bass. And a glance confirmed
my worst fears—a shiny red truck turning the corner, with Marco’s stupid meaty forearm
flopped out the driver’s side window.

So Kelly had grilled me a steak, laid me soundly, rescued me from my automotive woes.
That left exactly one box to check off his manly to-do list before he had the set.

“Fuck me,” I whispered. Let the dogfight begin.

Kelly glanced up at the noise.

“Don’t talk to that guy,” I told him, and rushed up the lawn and into the house, screen
door slapping at my back.

“Amber!”

She was untwisting one of Jack’s socks on the couch. “What?”

“Marco’s here. And you better get him to turn around and leave. Kelly knows he’s the
reason I showed up at work with a black eye and I doubt he’s going to be subtle about
it.”

She sighed, clearly more annoyed by my barking than the situation. “Shit.”

“Don’t swear.”

“I asked him to come, but not this early.”

I blinked at her, but could I really act so shocked? The beer had told me everything
I’d needed to know. “Dear God, why?”

“I dunno. He’s been sweet lately. He said he wants to reconcile.”

“Honey.” I stared at her squarely. “Don’t.”

“Don’t,” Jack echoed, eyes on the TV.

“I don’t know what I want. But he’s so much nicer when he’s trying to win me back.”

“That’s charming. And so sustainable, when it means you have to have been fighting,
first.”

Amber made a puppet of her hand, miming
blah blah blah blah.

Through the window, I watched as Marco exited his truck across the street and slammed
the door.

“The fact that he thinks you’re a possession that can be
won
—”

She swept past me with Jack in her arms. “Give it a rest, Erin. Jesus.”

“Jeezes!”

I brought up the rear in the confrontation parade, marching down the patchy lawn.
Marco spotted us as he was striding toward the front door, and gave a stiff wave.
He could play nice all he wanted, but no way was I forgetting that the last time I
saw him, we’d both driven away bleeding.

He cast Kelly and the vehicular activities a glance over his shoulder, looking shifty
as he faced forward. Kelly’s cold eyes went to Marco’s back, then my face. There was
no question in that stare. He already knew the answer.
Yup, that’s the guy.

Amber was wise enough to greet Marco with her skinny arms still full of Jack, not
welcoming a hug.

“Hey,” he said to her, then tossed another wave in my direction.

“Hey.” Amber leaned forward stiffly so he could peck her cheek. Clearly, she liked
this cold-shoulder-versus-penitent-boyfriend shtick. Fucking foreplay.

“How’s my boy?” Marco touched Jack’s hair, the hair I’d so lovingly shampooed, and
I fought off an urge to slap his hand away.

“He’s been pretty good today. Right?” Amber cooed at Jack. “You’ve been real good
for your auntie Erin?”

Jack excitedly began recounting the incident with the monster ant, but Marco wasn’t
listening.

“Cool. So . . .” He glanced behind him, to the action blocking the driveway.

“My car won’t start,” I said.

“Why’d you let her call a mechanic?” Marco asked Amber. “I coulda took a look at it.”

“It’s fine.” Never in a zillion years would I put myself in a position to have to
say thank-you to Marco. I’d sooner paper cut my eye. Maybe the same eye I bruised,
getting pushed into the car he was now so graciously offering to fix.

“That’s not a mechanic,” Amber said, in a voice I didn’t trust one bit. Even in reconciliation
mode, she couldn’t resist taking a shot. She was winding up, and the pitch wouldn’t
be far behind.

“If he ain’t a mechanic, who is he?”

“That’s
Kelly
,” she said, way too sweetly, with her head cocked just so.

I watched Marco frown, Amber’s curve ball whizzing past his thick, predictable skull.

“He’s my coworker,” I interjected.
And no, Amber’s not fucking him.

But I am.

“Oh. Okay. You gonna invite me in or what? Work was fucking exhausting.”

“You’ve got to quit using that word in front—”

Marco plowed right over my nagging. “I need a fucking beer.”

“Yeah, fine.” Amber sighed, and turned to lead Marco into the house. I sighed, too,
silently, with relief.

I wandered back down the driveway to Kelly. He’d installed a wishbone-shaped thing
to his truck’s hitch, and was crouching with a jack now, lining the prongs up with
the front of my car.

“You work quick. Everything—”

“That’s him, huh?” Kelly didn’t look up from his chore, just hoisted my car another
inch with each crank on the jack’s lever. When I didn’t answer, he jerked his chin
up and stared me dead in the face. “That’s him? The one who gave you a black eye?”

I shook my head. “Don’t.”

“You can’t stop me.”

“Kelly, please. Don’t. It’s not your business.”

His eyebrow twitched, telling me he did in fact think it was his business, but then
he went back to the task at hand.

I leaned against his truck. “I’m asking you as a favor, please don’t make a thing
of it.”

He finished with the jack and brushed past me to dump it in his bed, pulling out a
mess of wires. “Why don’t you tell that guy to come outside, so I can have a word
with him?”

My arms locked across my chest reflexively. “I’m not doing that.”

And Kelly said nothing for the next ten minutes while he ran cords between the two
vehicles and tested my blinkers and brake lights. It was eating me up, not knowing
what he was going to do.

“We’re just about set here.” He wiped his hands on a clean rag, then tossed it in
the bed. “Lemme just take care of that other issue, then I’ll get you home.” He headed
for the house.

“Kelly, don’t. Seriously—don’t.” I grabbed his forearm, but he twisted loose with
a practiced flick of his wrist.

“Kelly. Please.”

He just kept striding, pulled the door open and held it long enough for me to precede
him inside.

Jack was playing on the floor, and Amber and Marco were sitting on the couch with
beers, watching something noisy on the television. Marco had shitty hearing from working
on road crews, and I hated how he blasted everything and said, “Huh?” all the time.
I hated lots of things about him.

“How’s the car coming along?” Amber asked. Marco kept his eyes on the screen. It was
embarrassingly obvious how little he relished being only the second-biggest man in
a given room.

“Car’s just about ready,” Kelly said. “But I need a word with your man here. Outside.”

Marco’s head jerked up. “Word about what?”

“Word about that black eye you gave my friend the other week.”

Marco got to his feet and set his beer on the coffee table with a
thunk
. “She—”

“You raise your voice in front of that kid and we’ll be having more than just the
one word,” Kelly said, deadly calm.

Foam had erupted from the beer bottle and Amber scrambled to pull picture books and
magazines out of its spreading tide.

Kelly had turned his back on us, heading for the door. Marco shot me a killing look.
I could’ve told him I had nothing to do with this duel, but fuck him for leering at
me that way. Let him think I’d sicced this bruiser on his sorry ass.

He left us, exiting thirty seconds behind Kelly.

“Oh shit,” Amber said softly.

“Ship,” Jack agreed, and held up a toy boat to show us.

I rubbed my face and took a deep breath. Outside, Marco’s voice flared with words
I couldn’t make out. “Just keep Jack inside. I’ll be back.” I pulled out my phone
as I shoved through the door, ready to call the cops if it got ugly.

It had already gotten ugly. The men were nearly chest-to-chest in the dusky light,
Marco seething and shouting, Kelly impassive.

“And exactly what fucking business is it of yours?” Marco demanded.

I couldn’t make out Kelly’s reply.

A deep shiver went through me as I imagined what must be happening in his head, smelling
Marco’s beer breath, feeling his warm spittle. Was he back in high school, scrapping
with his drunk stepdad?

“I didn’t give her no black eye. She fell. She keyed my truck and spat at me.”

I caught a snatch of Kelly’s stoic reply, something about, “Self-defense? Against
a hundred-pound girl?”

“Who in the fuck told you this was your business?!”

Holy hell. Was this my nephew’s future? Getting cussed out by his drunk father, same
as Kelly had? I turned, finding Amber watching from the window, Jack in her arms.
I glowered and waved at her to get the fuck away, get her son’s eyes off this train
wreck. She tossed her hair and disappeared toward the kitchen.

“Just like their momma,” Marco was saying, right up in Kelly’s face. “She is a goddamn.
Crazy. Psycho. Cun—”

And he never got that hard
T
out. It was swallowed by a grunt, his arm folded up behind his back, chest slammed
to the ground, then Kelly was on him, one knee on the lawn and the other jammed hard
into the small of Marco’s back. The side of Marco’s face was mashed into the grass.
His teeth were gritted and his eyes clamped shut, snot already slipping down his lip.