2. Mandy
2
MANDY
I unclenched my jaw and forced a smile to the jackass crowding my space. “Walter, why don’t we step inside where it’s cooler?” And away from prying eyes .
The man looked like a weasel, with his thin face and beady eyes. He flashed a salacious grin and raked his gaze down my front. “Sounds good,” he said. The way he drew the words out made my skin crawl. “I think somewhere private is better.”
Silently choking on the bile crawling up my throat, I yanked open the door to the waiting room. The scent of oil, grease, and engine parts rose up to greet me. I relaxed slightly as I inhaled the familiar stink. This was my home turf, the place I’d grown up. I wasn’t na?ve enough to believe that made me safe, but I always felt better, stronger, in my own domain.
I led my unwelcome visitor across the narrow room. Six black plastic chairs lined the side walls, three on each side, with a table between them, loaded with outdated magazines and marked with dark coffee stains. A TV was mounted high in one corner, playing the shopping channel on mute. An old window air conditioner rattled up a storm, threatening to quit its struggle to combat the ninety-two-degree day. I almost wished it’d give up the ghost. The electricity it took to run the thing was more than I could afford.
Marching toward the red and gray Formica counter at the back, I couldn’t hold back a shiver at the emptiness of the room. No witnesses to the nightmare my father had left me.
I stomped around the counter and slammed my hands on its surface beside a register that’d been a part of the shop since my father first opened it thirty-five years ago.
Walter surveyed the room, lip curled with amusement, or maybe disgust.
The cement floor had been mopped last weekend, but the racks of wiper blades, oil, washer fluid, etcetera, carried a thin layer of dust I could never seem to shift, no matter how often I used a rag. The garage probably didn’t look like much to a man like Walter, but it was the whole world to me. It was my home.
“You should just sell this place.”
“I think that’s a bit drastic.” I pushed the words out through clenched teeth. Even if I did sell, I wouldn’t get enough to put me in the clear. I fought back the bitterness that threatened to rear its head. I didn’t want to resent my dad, didn’t want to hate him for where I was now. Was it too much to ask, to remember the good times? To hold those in my heart as I struggled to get through the storm? Still, the garage wasn’t the only legacy he’d left me when he’d died two years ago.
“Is it?” Walter crooned, rounding the end of the counter. “How else are you going to cover your debt?”
A vein jumped in my neck and my stomach quivered. “It’s not my debt.”
“Oh, but you own it now.” Walter stalked forward, a calculating glint lighting up his blue eyes. “I can help you.”
Swallowing a new round of bile, I edged backwards until my shoulder blades hit the peg-board section filled with hooks for vehicle keys. “I don’t need any help.”
Annoyance flashed in his eyes and his thin lips quirked. “Is that why you’re behind on your payments?”
“I’m doing the best I can,” I croaked, gagging on revulsion.
He closed in the last few feet and purposefully placed his hands on either side of my head. Spearmint from either gum or really strong toothpaste assaulted my senses and made me want to retch. “Let me help you,” he said, his face only inches from mine. “I guarantee you’ll enjoy spending a few hours a week in my bed.” The tips of his fingers strayed over my right shoulder and down my bicep. “In return, I’ll cover some of your debt.”
I thrust my hand out and slapped the old register. The cash drawer shot out and smacked Walter’s ribs.
Grunting, he jerked back, and his lustful expression turned ugly.
Without taking my eyes off him for even a second, I fumbled most of the twenties out of the slot, then reached under the tray to snatch the few hundreds a customer had paid me earlier that morning. Slamming the drawer shut, I smacked the money against Walter’s scrawny chest. “It’s not the full payment, but I’ll have the rest in a week.”
Fury flamed in Walter’s eyes. I swallowed hard, but I couldn’t back down now. I let go of the money now clutched in his grip and flung my hand toward the entrance. “Get out of my shop.”
Ding-a-ling!
I whipped around at the sound of the doorbell, and just like that, I lost the ability to breathe.
It couldn’t be…
Sound faded away and my world narrowed to the vision standing in the doorway. Chance McCallister. The love of my life. My high school sweetheart, until he chose the Navy over me. Here. In my garage. After twelve years.
His tanned arms flexed and corded as he shut the glass door. Holy crap , he’d filled out. When he’d left Springwell and me, he’d still been a boy, but a full-fledged man stood before me now, his well-worn Navy shirt stretched over tight pecs, impossibly wide shoulders, a lean, sculpted torso. He stood tall and perfect—six one, all muscle, not an ounce of fat, or a hair out of place. He looked like he’d just stepped off a recruiting poster, every amazing inch of him honed to perfection, from his clean-shaven jawline to his strong, defined calves.
But his face—his face. Jesus God, I couldn’t stop staring at the face I’d once caressed but no longer knew. Age had chiseled his jaw to a Superman square, his five o’clock shadow growing in just past noon. That faint hint of scruff made my knees go weak. I wanted to touch it, run my hands through the tousled, reddish-brown hair in need of a trim.
Dark eyes locked on mine and refused to let me go. I shivered, lost in their depths. I couldn’t decide what I felt—I was struggling to process too many emotions hitting me all at once. Hurt that he’d left me and come back ten times better, proving that goodbye hadn’t wrecked him like it had wrecked me. Anger, resentment, sadness, and, God…hunger. I was practically bubbling over with stupid, desperate lust. A surge of adrenaline flooded my every cell. He’d always had an edge to him, a hunter’s sharp gaze. But now…
A line of sweat that had nothing to do with the humidity trailed between my aching breasts. Now, that predatory edge carried a hint of lethal danger, a warning that he’d hurt you, or maybe, maybe?—
Take me by the shoulders. Fling me against the wall. Screw the pants off me, raw and full of fury, wrists pinned above me in his strong grip.
“Is there a problem?” Chance’s eyes flitted to Walter, shattering the spell.
Gulping air, I gasped at the intense throbbing between my legs. Then, like a rubber band snapping, my world slammed into focus and the situation he’d just walked in on flooded back in.
Walter jammed the money in his pants pocket and marched around the counter. “You need to watch these small-town garages,” he sneered, pausing beside Chance to peer back at me. “They don’t always deliver what they’re supposed to.”
The bell chimed again as Walter stalked out. Then he was gone, leaving me alone with the one man I’d tried to forget but never could.
The animalistic hunger from moments ago turned to fear, raising goose bumps down my arms and souring the taste in my mouth. Had Chance seen me give Walter the money? Had he heard anything before he’d opened the door? I stomped out and planted my hands on my hips.
“What the hell was that?”
Chance’s brows bunched down. “What the hell was what?”
“You know what.” I flushed, feeling stupid, not just for snapping, but for the way I’d melted instinctively at the sight of him. The way I’d drooled for the man who’d left me high and dry. I ripped a scrunchie from my pocket and did my best to corral my untamable mop into a ponytail. “You waltz in here like you own the place, and the first line out of your mouth is all caveman. What if he was a customer, and you scared him off?”
Chance’s lips tightened, but he didn’t say a word. I sagged against the counter, my anger draining away, leaving me embarrassed for the way I’d snapped at him. My anger hadn’t really been meant for Chance—I’d just needed to vent, and he’d been an easy target.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s been, uh, a long day.” One that left me awash in way too many emotions overloading my system—disgust over Walter’s skeeviness, desperation over the way Dad’s gambling debts would soon drown my business…and now the shock of Chance showing up after twelve years of nothing. No letters. No emails or phone calls. And then, out of nowhere, bam ! The man I thought I’d marry after high school suddenly appeared in the flesh, reminding me how I hadn’t burned like this since he’d left.
He was also the man I needed to stay away from if I was going to have any hope of surviving with my heart intact. Why couldn’t he have stayed away? Why did he have to crash back into my world without warning?
But of course, that was unfair of me. I knew why he was back. Everyone did. We’d known from the moment he arrived. That was the thing with a town like Springwell—nothing stayed private, at least not for long. Chance had showed up ten days ago, and Mrs. Rogan had seen him, watching the street while she had her hair set. She’d told her bridge club and they’d told their friends, and by Monday morning, it was the talk of Main Street. I had heard it waiting in line for a burger.
“I heard he came to be here for the end. It won’t be long now for poor Ray…”
“Of course. That’s so sad.”
“You don’t think he’ll stay after Ray is gone, do you? He was always trouble, that one.”
They’d all tutted, then. I had frowned. I’d wanted to defend him, but I’d kept my mouth shut. Getting involved would just make me part of the gossip. It wouldn’t change any minds, and besides, Chance wouldn’t stay.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “You know, about your dad. I’d have gone to the funeral, but…” My mind blanked and I scrounged for a plausible excuse. “You know how it is. I couldn’t leave the shop. We’re backed up, and…” I couldn’t bring myself to see you yet, I silently tacked on.
Chance crossed his arms. By the narrowing of his eyes, I could almost swear he’d heard the unspoken words.
Great. Could I be any more transparent about how he still affected me? Meeting his gaze, I said what I ought to have said from the start. “Welcome home.”