6. Mandy
6
MANDY
A wall of suffocating heat and country music hit me the second I opened the door between the waiting room and the garage late Friday afternoon. On the old, dinged radio, a female lamented about missed opportunities and heartbreak. I knew just how?—
Holy crap. My steel-toed boots faltered, and I barely remembered how to shut a door.
Chance stood in front of a panel delivery van in only half his charcoal coveralls. Above the sleeves tied together at his waist, he now sported a grease-stained white tank glued to his chest, thanks to the scorching weather beyond the opened bay doors. Glistening sweat soaked every visible inch of his tanned skin like baby oil on a cover model. A hot, lethal model. A model with sexy scars that told a story of valor and sacrifice and all he’d endured to defend his country.
I stood transfixed, drowning in a tide of conflicting emotions—lust and nostalgia, loss and regret. I wanted to lick the sweat off his back, taste him, devour him, claim him as mine. I wanted to lie him down and trace every scar, hear the stories that went with them, and know the man he’d become. I wanted to cry, and to jump on his dick, and to build a time machine and hop back twelve years. Back to another day, he’d stripped off his shirt on a hot day like this one, June or July. We’d gone swimming that day, in Mr. Bell’s pond. Mrs. Bell had caught us and chased us off, and we’d run laughing through the green fields.
If I could pick one day and live in it forever, it’d be that one all the way.
Chance marched to the air compressor and flipped the unit on. Grabbing an impact gun, he pulled the long black tubing from the back wall to the van’s engine.
“Hi, Chance,” said someone from just outside. A female someone, with a high, cutesy voice.
I gritted my teeth at the perfectly made-up, college-aged woman lingering in the doorway. She was dressed for the beach, not for the garage, in a pair of skimpy short-shorts and a barely-there top.
“Vanessa.” Chance’s deep baritone made me tingle—and from the way Vanessa giggled, it got her the same way. She swished her blonde hair and twirled it around her finger.
“See?” She nodded at the Kia in the center bay. “I brought my car in for service just like you said.”
I rolled my eyes. No, really? Did you think he missed the massive car?
“Good job,” he responded. I wanted to gag—and then I wanted to laugh. Jealousy, really? After twelve years? I felt like a kid again, full of hormones. Full of feelings , oh God.
“You should head inside,” Chance said. “Get out of the sun. Mandy will have you all done in no time.” He pulled the trigger on the air gun twice, letting out high-pitched whirs , then leaned over the van’s engine, ending the discussion.
I hurried to the Kia before Chance could spot me. I was blushing—I could feel it. Flustered to the gills. Was I relieved Chance hadn’t gone for Vanessa? Yes…yes, I was. I felt almost triumphant , like I’d won him for myself.
I grabbed the Kia’s work order and focused on that. An oil change and a tune-up. Okay. But Chance had told Vanessa to come by the garage. Had they been flirting? Did he go for her type? He hadn’t in high school, but that was a long time ago.
I huffed, frustrated. Growing up with just my dad, I’d never learned how to “girl”—how to do my makeup or pick out cute clothes. My mother had run off when I was just six years old, and I’d been elbow deep in engines before I’d learned how to write. Still, I’d never felt lacking. Until…maybe now?
It’d take an idiot to miss the way women like Vanessa had started loitering in the waiting room with their noses plastered against the observation window since Chance’s arrival. Ladies from all over—married or not—suddenly needed the stupidest stuff done to their cars. Like I wasn’t already backed up before the influx.
Raising the silver hood, I glared at the engine. The women parading through the shop were perfect and beautiful, neatly put together. I looked like a greasy train wreck most of the time.
The air wrench pierced the garage with its whirring, and I risked a peek. Chance’s corded forearms rippled as he worked. I found him just as attractive as I had in the past—if not more so. There was no way to tell, though, if that went both ways. He’d never made me feel dumpy or ugly or inadequate. He’d made me feel beautiful…but that was then. Did he prefer Barbie-bots now? Did he date, or did he just have one-night stands? Had he hooked up with anyone since he got back from?—
“Hey, Mandy?”
I nearly jumped. “Yeah?”
“Pass me that lug wrench?”
I retrieved it and passed it over. Chance hummed along with the radio as he went back to his work. I frowned, seized with sudden resentment.
“I thought you hated this song.”
“No, that was you.” Chance glanced up with a chuckle and wiped grease off his brow. “You had this whole rant you’d go through every time it came on about how it was so sexist. How it wasn’t fair. How the girl’s making all the sacrifices, and the guy doesn’t care, and she’s just?—”
“Fooling herself if she thinks he does.” I leaned on the Kia, shaking my head. “ Stand by your man. I don’t think so. Not that kind of man, the kind who only thinks of himself. I’d stand by my man if he stood by me.”
“See, you remember.” Chance straightened and grinned. “How about this?” He gripped the wrench in both hands, stretched out his arms, and moonwalked back across the garage. I burst out laughing.
“Oh, no, no, no ? — ”
“Oh, yes, yes, yes.” Chance did a spin and bent at the waist, then wiggled his ass at me. When he whirled back around, I grabbed the wrench, leaning back as he spun me nearly off my feet. The breath all rushed out of me and my head spun as Chance pulled me upright, breathless with mirth. I grabbed onto his arms, too dizzy to stand without help.
“I can’t believe you remember that.”
“Every damn step.”
I groaned deeply. “What were we thinking?”
“That it’d be hilarious. We won, didn’t we?”
We’d come in second, but I nodded anyway. I’d felt like I’d won something on stage that night—our high school’s talent night. The garage dance. That was the night I’d decided Chance was the one. He’d proven it with his willingness to do anything to make me happy, even if he looked stupid. I’d known then that I was going to marry him. Run the garage side by side with him. Raise a family. Grow old together.
I cleared my throat. “Can you still do the juggling?”
“ Can I? Uh…” He glanced at his toolbox. Tossed his lug wrench and caught it. “Probably,” he said. “But I better not. Don’t want to wreck her paint job if I happen to…” He tossed the wrench again and pretended to fumble, dancing it back and forth as he spun it in the air. When he caught it at last, he tipped me a wink.
“Just like old times,” he said.
I opened my mouth, but my throat felt tight. It had felt like old times, dancing with Chance. Working beside him in the garage. But he had his scars now, and I had mine—and the one on my heart had been carved when he left.
Chance frowned. “What’s the matter?”
I pressed my lips together. An unspoken rule had emerged, working together: we didn’t talk about our breakup or our future. Futures , I supposed. Plural, separate. One for him, one for me.
“I was just wondering…” If you’re planning on staying once you’ve sold the house. If you’ve got plans past the next few weeks. It’d be good if he did, especially if those plans meant he’d leave here. The longer he stayed, the more likely it got that he’d cross paths with Walter. If he found out about my situation?—
“Wondering what?” Chance had moved closer, so close I could smell that warm scent of home that made my knees go weak. I didn’t want him to go. My heart wanted him here. It didn’t care that he’d abandoned me once, that he’d likely do it again. My heart only wanted , and when it came to Chance, it wanted so much.
“If you wanted a drink,” I said. “You look…hot.”
Chance cocked an eyebrow but didn’t rise to the bait. “I’m good,” he said. “Maybe later.” He bent to his work again, and I did the same, but my heart wasn’t in it. I glanced back at Chance.
Maybe he wouldn’t leave. People change. He’s changed.
He had changed, I thought. He’d matured in ways beyond just physical development. He was as smart as ever, and as dedicated, but the anger that used to fuel him had drained away. I’d seen it myself, just two days ago, when big Bobby Laughton came in for a tune-up. He’d tried to goad Chance like he’d done in high school, spoiling for a rematch I knew he’d lose. I’d hustled over to head him off at the pass, but Chance had surprised me by laughing along. He’d tossed Bobby’s banter back with a grin, and they’d parted on a handshake instead of with blows.
“Hot summer sale!” An obnoxious commercial cut through my endless musings. I reached for my water bottle, needing a break from myself.
“You hear from Harris or Lee yet?” I asked. The two younger McCallister brothers had left early Tuesday for their road trip to Vegas in the Shelby Mustang.
Chance placed the impact gun on top of the battery and straightened. “A quick call and some texts. They lived it up in Nashville for three nights. Today, they should be in Memphis to see Graceland.” He grabbed a once-purple rag hanging out of his back pocket and wiped his hands. “I’ll be honest. I’m having second thoughts about some of those reproduction parts I installed.” He swiped his forehead against his muscular shoulder, but the movement only swished the sweat around. “I don’t think they’re as reliable as the company claims.”
I snorted. “Probably right.” Surreptitiously, I eyed the black tattoo of a bone frog crawling up his bicep to the top of his shoulder. The first time I saw it, my jaw had dropped at him having ink, but I’d managed to bite my tongue. Later that evening, I’d looked it up on the Internet, then hugged my pillow all night. It signified a memorial for a fallen SEAL, possibly more than one. I ached to ask him about it, but sensed the question wouldn’t be welcome. “Your brothers are tough and military trained. They’ll work it out if the car breaks down.”
“True.” He shoved the rag back into his pocket, then started cleaning up the tools littering his area.
Movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention, and I snapped my head forward. A flap of black material—the back of a suit coat—disappeared around a maroon minivan, then its owner popped back into focus on its other side. My stomach plunged, and I dropped the replacement air filter on top of the radiator.
Jerking upright, I cleared my throat. “I’ve, um, gotta…” I jabbed a thumb at the waiting room. “Bathroom.”
Chance nodded distractedly, still winding the black air tubing up.
I hustled into the waiting room and curled my lips over my teeth. Two women, Vanessa and another, tittered in front of the observation window. They’d be witnesses to my hell if Walter stepped inside.
Slapping a key on the register, I yanked cash out of the opened drawer. Damn Walter and his unpredictable appearances. Sometimes he texted, but most times he just showed up. If I could trust leaving cash in the garage overnight, I wouldn’t always have to scramble. He’d started his pop-ins as retaliation when I’d refused his asinine request to put him on my business account at the bank. Like I’d ever be stupid enough to allow him that level of access to my life.
I counted the stack as fast as I could below the counter and cursed him again. I’d have to give him all of it, but that would leave me with no change for the customers.
Chance moved back into my line of sight, and I slammed the drawer closed. Screw it. I had to get Walter out of here before Chance saw him. I only had a few hours left before closing. Maybe I’d get lucky, and everyone would whip out credit cards.
Heart pounding in my throat, I jogged out the main door. Bright sunlight blinded me, and I squinted, swiveling my head left, then right, looking for?—
“Over here.”
I found Walter leaning a suit-clad shoulder against the cement blocks. On the other side of the street, Brinks Hardware occupied a brick and siding building, but had no windows facing our position.
“Here.” I thrust the cash at him, needing him gone.
Walter lazily grasped the stack and made a production out of counting it.
“It’s all there,” I huffed, squaring my body to block anyone passing on the street from seeing us.
“Hmmmmm,” Walter murmured as he tucked the bills in his coat. “No, it’s not.”
Every muscle in my body stiffened. “Yes, it is.”
Walter shook his head and grinned.
A shiver rocked down my spine at the lecherous glint in his eyes.
“This is only half.” Walter patted the cash.
“No.” I steeled my spine. “It’s the rest of what I owe you from last week.”
“Now, see…” Walter peeled himself off the wall and stepped forward. “That’s where you’re mistaken.” He clamped his hand tight in my riotous curls and wound my hair around his fingers as if he had the right to touch me. “Last week wasn’t a payment.”
“Yes, it was?—”
He took another step forward, forcing me to move back. “No.” He moved again, and I tried to get away, only to ram into the side of the garage. “The money you gave me last week was for an extension since you weren’t able to make your scheduled payment right away—it only bought you time. You still owe the full payment.”
“That’s ridiculous.” I started to push forward but stopped when his grin widened, and he crowded deeper into my space.
“Oh, by all means.” He leered only inches from my face. “We can seal a new bargain with a kiss. You come willingly to my bed, and I’ll help you with your debt.”
“I’m not sleeping with you,” I hissed through gritted teeth. His spearmint breath so close to me made me want to vomit.
“I’d advise you rethink that,” Walter said. “How long do you?—”
Like an avenging angel, Chance swept in from nowhere. He grabbed Walter and slammed him against the wall with his forearm across the collector’s throat.
“Chance, no,” I yelped, scrabbling to pull him off. “Leave him alone.”
“What do you mean?” Chance growled, not taking his eyes off Walter, whose face was turning red. “He was all over you.”
“I’ve got business with Mandy,” Walter choked, pushing against Chance’s chest futilely. “And she wasn’t telling me to move. You need to mind your own if you know what’s good for you.”
I tugged hard on Chance’s granite bicep. “Let him go.”
Chance didn’t budge.
Glaring at Chance, I tugged again. Panic pulsed in my blood, and I felt my legs shake. “Please, Chance. Go inside.”
For an eternity, Chance held my gaze fast. No delicious sparks flew this time, nor were there any flashes of sex. Instead, his probing gaze seemed to ask one question—why? Why would I let a weasel like Walter manhandle me? Why wouldn’t I welcome help when it was offered?
I had no answer to give him, especially with Walter watching us with growing speculation. I did not like the calculation burning in his eyes.
Chance lifted his hands and stormed off, his heavy tread pounding the pavement.
Walter jerked upright and yanked his suit back into place. Malice poured out of him. Whatever he was about to say, I was sure it was nothing I’d want to hear.
“You’ve got your money,” I snapped, scraping my hair back with shaking hands. “Get out of here.” Pivoting on my heel, I raced after Chance.
The bell rang, announcing my presence, and it took everything I had not to react to Chance closing the now-empty cash drawer. The customers stopped shuffling, sensing the tension rising in the air.
Chance jerked his expressionless face toward the garage, then wordlessly opened the door for me to enter before him.
Damn. Damn. Damn. The second he closed the door I whirled, ready to go on the defensive and take him to task for interfering, but he got there first.
“Who is he?” Chance snarled, crowding into my space like Walter had, though I had no urge to retch this time. As angry as Chance sounded, I wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t trying to intimidate me. He was angry for me—on my behalf. Even in this, he was a protector. “Why is all the cash missing from the register? What’s going on?”
At my continued silence, he leaned closer. “I’ve seen you nail punks like him in the groin.” His breath punctuated the words like little punches. “I know you don’t want him near you, touching you that way. Look at you—your skin’s crawling, even hearing me say it. Why do you let him close to you when you’re clearly repulsed by him?”
“I can’t…” I bit my tongue against the war raging inside. I didn’t want to drag anyone into my problems, and keeping my mouth shut shielded Chance from getting involved in this mess—or did it? By keeping him in the dark, was I making it worse? If Walter pegged him as a threat, he’d be vulnerable to retaliation, and he wouldn’t even see it coming. Walter wouldn’t stop until he’d destroyed Chance, either on his own or with his army of thugs. Chance had served twelve years, fighting evil men like these. He deserved peace, but could I give him any? Could he be safe, being around me?
Chance shifted. “You’re in trouble?—”
“I…I can’t talk about it.” I couldn’t deny it, but I could warn him off. “I’m asking you to leave it alone. Please.” I squirmed to escape the tight space. “Can you close that one out and pull the next vehicle in?” I pointed at the van in the last bay, doing my damnedest to stop my finger from visibly trembling. “Your fan club at the window has waited long enough.”
Chance’s expression turned cold. Executing a pivot a drill sergeant would be proud of, he strode to the van. The sudden calm surrounding him and the snap in his steps made the hair on my arms rise and prickle. I couldn’t treat him like the boy I’d once known. He had whole depths to him I hadn’t seen when we were kids. Reserves of strength and experience I could hardly imagine. He could survive Walter, if he knew what he was up against.
I had to confide in him, but I’d need a plan. Chance would want to fix everything, make it okay. He might even try to pay off my debt. I couldn’t owe him like that. Couldn’t saddle him with my burden. Nor could I let him take on Walter’s boss alone, not when the feds had tried and failed. I’d tell him the truth, but I’d plan it out first. Figure out how to tell him so he wouldn’t rush into any action that could get him hurt.
Changing the van’s oil, I nodded to myself. Chance knew his business, but I knew Walter. I’d make him understand that, and I’d keep him safe.