Chapter Thirteen
As if to make up for it, Wednesday was brutal. Austin fixed a heated seat, a fan belt, a tire puncture, and a chipped windshield before he got a break long enough to hit up the bakery next door for lunch. He spent the afternoon under the Malibu, replacing the entire exhaust system.
God, he needed a shower.
That evening, he found Joe in the kitchen with an unfamiliar woman, who stood cradling a glass of bubbly water while she watched Joe cook.
She was dressed casually in jeans but wore them with the primness and authority of a well-tailored pantsuit. Austin immediately felt grubby in her presence and felt the urge to apologise for not having showered.
He wondered if he could sneak away unseen. He doubted very much that this stranger admired mechanics for their skilled labor.
Of course, she lived up to the expectations set by her first impression and immediately caught Austin in her calculating gaze.
“Hello. You must be the mechanical half of the DIY dream team.” She arched an eyebrow and looked at him with Joe’s eyes.
Yeah, definitely Joe’s mom.
“Uh, hi. Austin.” Smooth.
“Austin,” Joe echoed, “you’re home. Obviously. Meet my mom, Maria Romano. Mom, meet Austin Taylor, co-owner, mechanic, finder of valuable vinyls.”
“A Renaissance man,” Maria said, and Austin couldn’t tell if she was impressed or mocking him. Or maybe she was just neutral.
Before Austin could figure out what to say in response, Joe jumped to his rescue.
“Dinner will be another twenty or so. Plenty of time for a shower.”
Austin gave a thumbs-up—what was it about this lady that turned him into a dumbass—and backed out of the kitchen.
As much as Austin didn’t want to return to Maria’s company to be judged, he couldn’t deny his stomach or his nose.
He needed to investigate the source of those delicious smells.
He was getting spoiled living with Joe, he thought ruefully, and definitely did not think about no longer living with someone who moonlighted as a gourmet chef.
He was too busy not thinking in general, apparently, because after a five-minute shower that blasted the grime off and abated the muscle stiffness from a day spent in the cold garage, he realized he had his towel but no actual clean clothes, because—well, who cared if he walked upstairs in a towel if Joe was the only other person home?
It wasn’t anything Joe hadn’t seen before.
Joe’s mom, on the other hand….
Fuck.
He could put his work coveralls back on, but they were filthy to the point he’d need another shower. And there was no way he could get upstairs to his room without Joe’s mom noticing. But Joe’s bedroom—that was only a few steps away.
Nothing for it. Austin scrunched up his curls in the terry cloth to dry them as best he could in a minute, then scrubbed the towel over the rest of his body and wrapped it around his waist.
He opened the door a crack and peered out. He could see Maria’s back in the kitchen doorway.
Good enough. He made a break for it.
He was just feeling the relief of the door closing behind him when Walker tried to murder him by tripping. With a curse, Austin caught himself on the edge of the dresser.
“I rescued you from the great outdoors and this is how you repay me?” he grumbled.
“Mrow,” Walker said proudly. His orange tail stuck straight up as he rubbed against Austin’s bare legs.
At least Austin knew where Joe kept his underwear. Fuck, was that weird to steal?
It was probably weirder to steal his jeans without underwear.
He put the questions out of his mind as he dragged on a T-shirt and then a hoodie. Joe had six hundred of them and the house was freezing.
Then he scooped up the cat and went back to the kitchen to face the music.
“—a kitchen island,” Maria was saying when Austin came in. “Throw a coat of white paint on the cabinets, upgrade the counters….”
Austin twitched.
At the stove, Joe hunched his shoulders. “It’s not really in the budget, Mom.”
“Sweetheart. You know I’d loan you the money. You can pay me back when you sell. Or just let me list it for you. You’ve done a lot of work—it’s going to pay off. I’ll give you a deal on commission.”
Austin didn’t know a lot about healthy parent-child relationships. The closest he’d ever been to one was on TV. But he understood body language, and he didn’t think Joe’s mom was making him chafe on purpose.
Which meant she didn’t see that her remarks were upsetting Joe, but Austin did.
Austin could think about that later too. Or, more likely, avoid thinking about it. He took a sharp breath, then cleared his throat. “Sorry about that,” he said, forcing a smile. “Long day at the office. Can I help?”
Joe threw him a shocked and bewildered look over his mom’s head, because Austin had been clear about his uselessness in the kitchen, but then they met eyes and he must’ve understood Austin was just there to change the subject. “Looks like you have your hands full,” he pointed out.
“Well, my favorite wasn’t available. Where’s Pepa?”
Joe’s mother blinked. “Who’s Pepa?”
Wait, Joe hadn’t told her about the dog? Austin opened his mouth, caught Joe’s eye again. Was he supposed to lie?
“Austin’s dog,” Joe said.
Maria arched a curious, nonjudgemental eyebrow, so Austin supplied, “She was a stray in the neighborhood. She stole my dinner one night, so I took her home.”
“Did you, now,” Maria said, clearly amused.
“She’s in the breezeway,” Joe explained with a look that told Austin his need for Pepa cuddles was transparent.
Austin took the offered olive branch and excused himself from the awkward small talk in the kitchen. Besides, his girl probably needed a bathroom break before dinner.
Austin set Walker down on the floor and watched with fond amusement as he immediately trotted across the kitchen and climbed Joe’s jeans. Joe didn’t flinch, just reached down and scooped the kitten from his hip to his shoulder.
Shaking his head, Austin turned toward the door and caught sight of Maria watching this with a smile.
Then, to his surprise, as he headed toward the door, Maria said, “I’ll tag along. I’d like to meet this Pepa.” The slight stress on the name told Austin she knew everything about its meaning.
“Uh, sure. The breezeway is heated, so you don’t need a coat or shoes. Unless you wanted to come for the walk.”
She followed him to the breezeway without collecting boots or coat, so Austin figured she just wanted to get a look at Pepa.
She clearly wasn’t a dog person, though she did bend down to pat her head once Pepa abandoned Austin to greet her guest. Austin put on the outdoor gear that he left in the breezeway, and Pepa danced happily at his feet.
Ozzy eyed them from his cozy spot on the dog bed and then closed his eyes and went back to sleep.
Maria left him as he clipped on Pepa’s leash, and he figured that was it, but two minutes after they got outside, Maria came around the side of the house, dressed in casual boots and a coat that looked just as picture-ready as her jeans and sweater.
Okay. Apparently they weren’t done hanging out. Austin could totally do this. Make small talk with a woman who had such exacting standards that Joe still acted as if any sort of dirt or chaos was some sort of rule-breaking thrill.
“So, you can tell me the truth. Did Joe want to help her because she needed a home or because she had special needs?” Maria shot Austin a quick small smile, as if they were sharing a secret.
“Er, well, I mean, I was definitely the one handing over the credit card at the vet, but he didn’t dissuade me,” Austin said, trying to stick to the truth without revealing Joe’s sort-of lie.
Technically Pepa was Austin’s dog, but she was also Joe’s.
“And he’s never said why, but probably for both reasons.
Though considering he saved her life from the coyote that took her leg, I can’t say I blame him for being attached. ”
“Well, that’s a story I need to hear,” Maria said, so Austin recounted the Pepa saga, start to finish, including the finding of the kittens.
“Honestly, I should have been more surprised if he hadn’t found strays after moving out here.” She shot Austin a sly look. “He ever tell you about the time he tried to adopt a kitten?”
They were on their way back to the house now. Pepa had finished her business and was starting to shiver. “Can’t say he did.”
Maria happily launched into the story, voice laced with warmth as she recounted it, which didn’t quite match the picture of her Joe had painted. Though he’d said she was trying to do better these days, hadn’t he?
By the time they stepped back into the breezeway, Austin was wheezing with laughter, picturing a tiny nine-year-old Joe thinking he was being in any way subtle about his hidden prize.
As if his meticulous mother wouldn’t have noticed the missing guest towels from the bathroom or the pilfered cans of tuna or, most tellingly, the sounds of a lonely baby looking for its surrogate parent coming from his bedroom closet.
“You could hear it howling all throughout the house. Poor kid was so alarmed at having been caught. He tried to tell me it was ghosts, and maybe I should put in a call to the Ghostbusters.” She shook her head.
“I almost caved and let him keep it,” she said thoughtfully, then gave a self-deprecating huff.
“Can’t change the past now, though. And he really was probably too young for full responsibility of a pet. ”
Austin hummed, not sure how else to acknowledge that statement without sounding like a douchebag. Obviously there was more to the relationship between Joe and his mother than Austin had gleaned from their months of acquaintance.
When he didn’t offer a verbal acknowledgment, Maria prompted, “So is it just the dog and the three cats, or does he have a terrarium somewhere too?”
“The kids wouldn’t fit,” Austin told her as he held open the back door. She laughed and preceded him into the breezeway. “And I make Joe take the spiders outside and release them.”
Now she paused, shaking her head as she removed her coat. Rather than hang it on the hook where Austin kept his—perfectly serviceable for a puffer jacket—she folded it over her arm to take back to the front hall closet. “You make Joe deal with the spiders?”
“Ah, well.” Austin was too gay—and had too macho of a job—to feel emasculated by his fear. “I think they’re creepy, so….”
Maria tilted her head at him. He thought she’d taken his measure inside, but he could see her reevaluating him now. He didn’t know why until she said, “Joe’s been afraid of spiders since he was a kid. We had a neighbor with a tarantula. Awful brat. He made Joe put his hand in the tank once.”
Jesus, what the fuck.
Joe was afraid of spiders?
Austin turned over this piece of information, fitting it into his understanding of Joe as a person.
Joe collected strays. That was obvious. He had too much heart by half; he’d adopted four feral children as a teenager; he had a whole contingency plan in place for when Will got outed to his family and had to move out.
He’d given Austin grief about Pepa and the kittens, but it was all surface level and none of it directed at the animals; he was sweet as anything with them.
Austin had thought Joe had exempted him from the collection. After all, Austin was an adult. He didn’t need looking after.
Except Joe kept feeding him, didn’t he? And taking out the spiders, even though he was afraid. He’d come to collect Austin from the cold the night of the storm, made sure Austin was warm in his bed.
And then there was the sex, the way Joe’d micromanaged everything until Austin had been overwhelmed with pleasure.
Perhaps Austin had been adopted after all, except not in the same way Joe had taken in the kids, the dog, the cats.
And not openly. Of course he hadn’t; Austin had told him he didn’t date.
And the little Joe had told him on the topic of his ex had illuminated plenty.
Austin knew that kind of pain, knew what it could do to people, in the right circumstances. Or the wrong ones.
That was… interesting.
“Austin?”
Joe was standing in the door to the breezeway; his mother must have gone to hang up her coat.
“You good?” Joe asked. There was a crease in his brow and a splash of something red on his shoulder, likely from dinner. Austin made a note to treat the stain; he was wearing Joe’s clothes. He owed him a load of laundry anyway.
He’d let his hair grow out, Austin realized.
The sweep of bangs across his forehead almost touched his eyebrows.
He must’ve missed an appointment. Austin thought it suited him, but he also thought—Joe took pride in his appearance.
He wore his hair short because it made sense for work, because he didn’t have time to spend styling it.
If he’d missed an appointment, then what else was he neglecting?
Joe spent so much time taking care of other people. Who was taking care of him?
“I’m good,” Austin said, straightening. He slipped Pepa’s collar and leash onto the hook next to his coat. “Sorry. I’m good.”
“Okay,” Joe said. He was still frowning a little, as though he didn’t quite believe it, but he didn’t challenge Austin on it. “Well, dinner’s ready.”
He retreated to the kitchen, leaving Austin standing in the breezeway, reevaluating his life.
Days ago he’d told Joe that Paul had to be an idiot. He meant it then, for more than the reasons he’d admitted out loud.
In Austin’s entire life, very few people had truly cared for him.
His father had loved him, but that love didn’t translate to care, not even of himself.
Then he died and Austin had gone to live with his aunt.
She looked after him, but she was unwell too, and after a while she couldn’t do it anymore either.
Austin learned independence at a very young age. That was how he survived.
But Joe cared for him. He might not admit it out loud, and he might not care for him the way Austin hoped, but Austin could weather that.
And unlike Paul, Austin was not an idiot.
If a man like Joe was going to care for him, cook him meals, rescue him from spiders in spite of his own fear, and occasionally take him to bed and make him come so hard his brain leaked out his ears, Austin wasn’t going to throw that away.
But after the disaster with Paul, and after Austin’s own admission of his nonexistent dating history, he had a feeling it would take a lot of convincing before Joe was ready to commit to something serious.
That was okay, though. Austin was good at being patient.