Not So Easy (The NOT Series Book 4)

Chapter 8

Fun was notthe word Becca would have used. For her, labor was anything but fun. Despite it all, she’d been a total trooper, and after ten intense hours, Baby Noah entered the world with a scream that could peel paint.

Bless his little heart. And lungs. And his perfect little toes and itty bitty fingers and the fullest head of dark hair I’d ever seen on a newborn. According to the nurses, this explained Becca’s bout with heartburn in the later stages of the pregnancy.

Once the little guy was cleaned up and had spent quality bonding time on Becca’s chest, we each got cuddle time of our own. When Josie, Megan, and I headed for the exit, the exhausted but elated new parents were video chatting with Jacob’s parents in South Korea. His mom’s tears of joy almost got to me.

The late night made getting up for the morning wedding that much harder, but I was at the church with plenty of time to spare. The day went off without a hitch, and I considered suggesting that the bride join Becca’s company, because she’d planned the entire thing herself. I’d never seen an event more organized in my life, and after more than ten years of being a wedding photographer, that was saying something.

As promised, the festivities ended just after noon, at which point the bride and groom, a lovely couple in their early fifties and both on their second marriage, headed for the airport to hop a flight to Paris.

I seriously wanted to be them when I grew up.

After a stop at home to change clothes and do a quick review of the wedding shots, I sent the best ones to the bride’s phone, as requested, then headed out to meet Calvin. I’d spend more time editing all of the photos into a beautiful collection at the start of the week.

Following where my GPS led, I was surprised to arrive at a non-descript garage with no sign to give away exactly why I was there. The only items I had left to choose were the appliances, but this did not look like an appliance store to me.

Far from it.

Checking the address again, I clicked back to make sure I hadn’t entered a number wrong in the GPS. Nope, this was it.

There were plenty of cars in the lot, but no people. In fact, the place looked deserted. Was this a joke? Seconds before I was about to leave, Calvin’s truck pulled into the lot. He pulled up close to one of the large bay doors. So close I thought he was going to drive into it, but at the last moment the door started to open.

Curious, I leaned forward to get a glimpse inside before Calvin pulled all the way in. Except he didn’t. Instead, he climbed out of the truck and motioned for me to come closer. I didn’t even think he knew I was there. When I opened my door and stepped out, he yelled for me to bring the car. Odd, but I did as asked.

As I put Loretta in park next to Calvin’s truck, a familiar face stepped out of the garage.

“Lucas?” I said, hopping out. “Lucas Winters?”

A gleaming white smile split his handsome face. “Donna B? Is that you? Girl, where you been hiding all these years?”

I was instantly sixteen again. Lucas had been my favorite person in the neighborhood. Other than my cousins, of course. Beautiful, ridiculously smart, and just as mischievous, he’d always been ready with a smile and a laugh. Especially for Bammy. I’d probably liked him so much because Bammy had declared him one of her favorites.

When he opened his arms, I walked straight in for the hug and found my feet dangling off the ground a second later. Laughing, I said, “I’ve been working on becoming a self-made woman.” Careful not to put too much weight on my left foot when he put me down, I leaned back. “What about you? I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“I’m a self-made man, darlin’. This is my shop. Repair. Restoration. A little comprehensive collision work. We do it all at Winters Body Shop.”

What were we going to get from a body shop that would work in the house? Looking to Calvin for answers, I caught the annoyed look on his face. We hadn’t even exchanged greetings so I wasn’t sure what I could have done to earn that look.

“Come on inside,” Lucas said. “I’ll show you around.”

He led us through the open garage and as he fell into step beside me, Calvin mumbled, “Why didn’t I get a greeting like that when we met back up?”

That had to be a rhetorical question. “You know why.”

He grumbled in reply and I ignored him. I didn’t remember young Calvin being quite this moody.

After seeing an older model Camaro they were restoring, the custom paint room, which was fascinating, and finally arriving at Lucas’s office, I was even more curious to know why we were here.

“So I hear you’ve got some car trouble,” Lucas said once we were seated around his desk.

How did I not figure this out sooner? Jaw locked, I fought the urge to rip Calvin’s head off.

“She has some issues, but nothing I can’t handle.”

“Cal says the engine dies at stop signs.”

Cutting my gaze to the man on my left, I said, “Cal needs to mind his own business. I’ll take care of my car.”

Sensing the tension in the room, the mechanic said, “Is this not why you’re here?”

Ears ringing, I kept my voice low. “I need to talk to Calvin alone for a minute.”

Our friend looked concerned, but he was smart enough to know when to back away. “No problem. I’ll be out in the shop.”

As soon as the door clicked shut, I bolted from my chair. “Are you serious right now?

“Donna, I?—”

“Who asked you to find me a mechanic?” I snapped, pacing the small office. “Did I in any way give you the impression I needed your help? Because I don’t believe I did.”

“I—”

“No. The answer is no. You had no business bringing me here and embarrassing me like this. I don’t need your charity.”

Calvin kept his mouth shut.

Furious, I turned on him. “Are you really not going to say anything?”

Dark brows arched as he met my eyes. “Are you going to let me talk?” Seething, I crossed my arms and remained silent. “Thank you. First, no, you did not ask for my help. Which is why I didn’t tell you where we were meeting.”

“If you knew I’d be upset, then why did you do it?”

“Because your car isn’t safe right now, and I’d rather you be mad at me than have you hurt in an accident. Or worse.”

How was I supposed to respond to that? “My car is fine.”

“No, it isn’t. Donna, this isn’t about charity. I’m not paying to fix your car, and Lucas isn’t offering to fix it for free. But he will cut you a deal, and he’ll let you make payments if necessary.” I opened my mouth to argue but he kept going. “Before you say that’s charity, no, it isn’t. You aren’t special. He cuts all of us deals. I had to make payments when my truck needed a new engine last year.”

Anger easing, I dropped back into my chair. I wasn’t used to people doing me favors. It threw me off balance.

“I brought you here so you two could work something out, and you could be safe on the road. That’s all. What you do from here is up to you. ”

So his intentions were in the right place. He still should have told me what this was about instead of blindsiding me in front of Lucas. There was also the issue of leaving my car here to be fixed. What was I supposed to drive?

Becca didn’t have a license so she depended on the hired car apps. I supposed I could do that, but I’d rather not. Shooting weddings required hauling around delicate equipment. Doing so in hired cars would be inconvenient and potentially dangerous.

“Not that it’s any of your business,” I said, “but I plan to put the car in the shop as soon as I have the means for a rental.” Yes, I could charge one, but I didn’t like credit cards. They were for emergencies only, which this was not.

“Lucas can give you a lender.” When I huffed, he added, “Again, that’s a courtesy he extends to all of his clients. At least the ones he knows really well. I’m sure that includes you.”

Grumbling, I said, “You should have told me.”

Calvin conceded the point. “I should have. I apologize. Next time, I’ll give you a heads up.”

“There won’t be a next time. I don’t need you doing favors for me.”

Looking entirely unconcerned, he leaned back in his chair. “If you’re worried about owing me, forget it. I don’t expect anything in return.”

Of course he didn’t. I should start calling him Saint Calvin. But that wasn’t my issue. I just didn’t like depending on people. That was the quickest and surest route to being let down. Realizing a key to his personality, I shook my head.

“You can’t help yourself, can you?” I asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re a fixer. Professionally, but also as a person. You see a problem and you can’t help but find a solution, even when it isn’t your problem to solve.”

He didn’t argue. “You make that sound like a bad thing.”

“Sticking your nose into other people’s business is a bad thing.”

Lips pursed, he watched me for several seconds before replying. “There’s a difference between fixing things, and presenting a solution. The person still has a choice. They can take it or leave it. Like right now. I’ve presented an option. You get to decide if you want to take it.”

“I should have had a choice in whether or not to come here.”

As patiently as ever, the saint tapped my knee with a grin. “Anyone ever tell you you might have control issues?”

I fought the smile with every bone in my body.

“Anyone ever tell you to go to?—”

“Okay, Lucas,” Calvin yelled. “We’re good in here.”

“You sure?” he said, obviously standing right outside the door.

“We’re sure,” I said, conceding this one to Calvin. “Come tell me how you’re going to fix my car.”

I never imaginedmy day would start with a flying toilet.

After rescheduling three appointments, I managed to clear my calendar for demo day. Loretta was still in the shop, so I parked the loaner—a like new Volkswagen Jetta—behind the house. No sooner did I put the car in park than a toilet shot out an upstairs window and landed with a crash in the dumpster mere feet in front of me.

Did I just see what I think I saw?

I opened my door only to have a sink drop like a rock into the dumpster and send bits of porcelain into the air. This was not the place to park a car I didn’t own. Or one I did own, for that matter.

After driving around front and parking safely on the curb, I made my way into the house. The front door was open, and what could have been the sounds of demo, or someone testing small bombs, echoed off the bare walls.

The previous toilet spotting told me they’d started upstairs, but as I set foot on the first stair, Calvin spoke from behind me.

“What are you doing here?” Looking me up and down, he added, “And why are you dressed like that?”

“You said I could help with demo.”

His eyes went wide. “You were serious?”

Was he not listening? “Of course, I was.” Looking down at my jeans, brand new and very sturdy work boots—laced somewhat loosely on the left foot—and white tee, I asked, “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

Typically when we met up for house stuff, I was either going to or coming from an appointment. That meant I was in work mode, which was sleek and professional. I had to project an image that let customers know I could do the job. Weddings were considered by most as a once in a lifetime day, regardless of how often that proved to be untrue.

There were no do-overs in wedding photography. That meant couples put a lot of trust in me, and I never wanted them to be disappointed. A professional appearance and demeanor were absolutely critical to earning that trust.

At the same time, this didn’t mean I couldn’t dress down and get a little dirty.

“Well… I mean…” Calvin stammered.

Why was he acted so flustered?

“Is there a demo uniform I don’t know about? Please don’t tell me this requires those hideous overalls.”

A strong hand rubbed his cropped hair. “No, you’re good. I’m just not used to seeing you like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like…normal.”

This man was making no sense. “Do I get to break stuff, or not?” Before I forgot, I said, “And why did a toilet fly out of my upstairs window a minute ago?”

Calvin offered a sheepish grin. “The old ones can be kind of nasty so we don’t like to bring them through the house if we can help it.”

Made sense.

“Okay, then. Where do you want me?” The look that crossed his face said he was no longer thinking about demo, and it was my turn to stammer. “I mean… I… Where should I start?”

Lingering there in the foyer, both of us acting like awkward teenagers, made me think this is how it might have been back in the day if he’d had the guts to ask me out. Who knew where we’d be now if that ever happened. Probably the same place we were now.

That teenage crush would have eventually faded, and we’d have gone our separate ways. Though, why was I even thinking about this? The past was the past, and it needed to stay there.

“Hey, gang!” Calvin yelled without warning, scaring the bejeebers out of me. “Come down and meet the new member of the team.”

I heard them before I saw them and backed away from the stairs, expecting a herd of buffalo to appear. One by one, familiar faces came into view, and I was starting to think that Calvin either hired or patronized every single person who grew up within a six block radius of this house.

As if I didn’t know them already, Calvin made the introductions.

“This is Pretty Boy, Socks, Lenny, and Bill.” He pointed to each as he said their names. “You guys know Donna. She’s helping out today.”

I remembered all of them.

Pretty Boy, aka Bradley Andrews, had more than grown into his nickname. He’d been handsome as a teen, but now he could easily fit in on a high fashion runway. You could cut paper on that jawline, and the amber eyes were still as striking as ever.

Socks, or Winston when his mom called him in for dinner, hadn’t changed at all. Short, pear-shaped, and wearing dark-rimmed glasses that magnified his eyes to an alarming degree. I noticed his nickname still fit as well. The man still didn’t wear socks.

I couldn’t recall who first gave him the moniker, but he was so well known for his lack of the apparel that once someone said it, it stuck. Lenny and Bill had familiar faces, but I didn’t interact with them much in the past. Neither had ever done anything to garner my attention, for good or for bad.

“Where did you go?” said a voice from the living room and I spun to see a towering figure wearing cut-off jean shorts, a Pitt T-shirt, and an Iron City ball cap coming our way. “Hey,” the young woman said. “What’s going on?”

“Donna’s here to help,” Calvin said.

“Help with demo?” she asked, looking me up and down. “For real?”

Feeling judged, I said, “Is that a problem?”

“It’s a shock, is what it is.”

“It’s her house, JoJo. She can help if she wants to.”

The name rang a bell. “Little JoJo? Your cousin, Little JoJo?” The last time I saw her she was maybe six years old and a tiny little thing. The grown woman before me had to be pushing six foot two at the very least. This could not be the same person.

The cold expression softened. “You remember me?”

“I remember you being a wisp of a thing. How did you get so tall?”

JoJo shrugged. “I ate my vegetables, I guess.”

“JoJo got a full ride to Pitt to play basketball,” Calvin said with pride. “She helps out when she has time.”

Basketball. That made sense.

When she joined the others near the stairs I nearly laughed. JoJo was easily the tallest of the bunch.

“Bill and Socks, you can keep working on the bathroom. Lenny and Pretty Boy, keep pulling carpets, and move on to taking off the doors when you’re finished.” Calvin turned to me. “Since you got the kitchen started, you might as well help finish the job.”

The guys went back upstairs, and JoJo fell into step beside me as we followed Calvin into the kitchen.

“You really remember me?” she asked, hints of the little girl apparent in her tone if not her appearance.

I nodded. “I do. You were always in a dress. Usually pink, And you hated when people called you Jolene.”

Her face twisted in disgust. “I still hate that.”

“It’s worse when they sing it at you, isn’t it?”

“You have no idea.”