Chapter 9
NINE
WESTON
It was actual relief on my brother’s face when I proposed taking over most of the labor on Amelia’s van. His workload is starting to overwhelm him, with the influx in population we’ve had recently and Gonzo not being around.
It’d probably help if a few of the old-timers traded in their rides for something newer, but good luck getting people around here to part with their prides and joys.
Like me.
Have I burned the rubber on my baby in a decade or more? No, but I dare you to try to take her from me.
So who am I to blame Old Lady Dix if she wants to keep her Bessie around for another round of the automotive equivalent of a knee replacement or seven? Even if it does make my brother’s life a little more difficult.
The first day on Amelia’s van, Wyatt and I removed the engine block together and he assigned a section of the garage to me for the project. He checks in with me on it daily, offering oversight, direction, and a second opinion when I need one, but is glad to not have to do the bulk of the time-intensive labor on it.
It’s a good thing I got in some time with my mom my first week in town, because my schedule isn’t as comfortably loose as I prefer it right about now. She was so excited to have me back in the Heights, but texts are gonna have to be enough for a little while.
All week long I’ve picked Amelia up late morning (both of our preferred starting time), when we go tackle the day’s painting at whichever shop is closest to opening. Then, when we’ve made good progress for the day, we return to Gonzo’s Garage, where she brings her laptop over with a foldout chair and I get to work on her engine.
Wyatt is nearby, at least until closing time, so we don’t tend to get into the kind of dangerous territory our flirting likes to drift into when we’re alone. But it’s comfortable, and it’s become routine.
So tonight, when she asked me to text Lexi to come get her for girl’s night, this hopeful look on her face that told me this meant something to her, I couldn’t object. Sure, it doesn’t feel the same, toiling away on the rebuild without her talking to herself on the sidelines—cutest habit ever, by the way—but I’m not complaining.
Being alone is good, it’s what I’m used to. I work well on my own.
So why do my eyes keep flicking to the side, toward the open bays where her short, toned legs are usually in my periphery, bouncing as she sits in a fold-out chair, while I sweat over her engine to the soundtrack of her gushing about this or that.
She’s not there. Of course she isn’t there. She’s down at Suds with the girls. And half of the guys in this town. Including Dallas, the bartender, and the most eligible bachelor in the Heights, last I knew. Pretty sure that hasn’t changed.
One of my eyes twitches at the thought of them hitting it off. Him catching wind of the new arrival with his own eyes for the first time. Her, intrigued by the darkness that swallows that guy whole. The two of them finding a dim corner of the bar.
The back of one wrist—since both hands are filthy—slaps to my eye, effectively stopping the twitch, but possibly blinding myself permanently in the act. A fair trade.
I distract myself by focusing extra hard on assembling these pistons, the assembly lube thick and sticky on my hands as I test each component to make sure it’s working as it should.
Eventually—definitely long enough for a bathroom hookup or three if I were keeping track of time, which I’m totally not—headlights bounce through the gravel lot and into the shop, the sound of tires rolling across the loose rocks echoing through the garage. I make my way to the sink on the cement block wall and use about a pound of that orange, gritty soap to wash my hands as I hear car doors opening and raucous giggling roll in.
I try not to think they’re laughing about something as stupid as, oh, I don’t know, Amelia getting bent over the pool table by the bartender, and make my way over to them, keeping my pace even, like it’s not taking all my effort to hold myself back from sprinting to the car.
Amelia is clearly inebriated, which makes me wonder how much she’s had to drink, because I’ve seen her pound beers with no issue.
She’s also clearly having the time of her damn life, which calms my revved up insides instantly, and returns my usual, easy smile back to my face. And it’s for real.
Lexi is doubled over in laughter, legs crossed to keep from peeing, if I had to guess, as she helps Amelia out of the car while they scream-laugh together. Neither of them look up as I approach, engrossed in whatever new inside joke is between them that has them hardly able to take breaths between their howls.
After a couple minutes of unintelligible speech that they somehow seem to understand between the two of them, I finally clear my throat loudly.
Lexi, clearly not shitfaced like the girl I’m here for, looks up at me quickly, sobering from her laughing fit and shooting me a knowing smirk. Amelia takes a fraction of a second longer to gather her bearings and bring her bleary gaze to mine, a blithe grin stretched across her small mouth.
“There he is!” she shouts, pointing at me. Except her whole body points with her, and she starts to tip over. Lexi, who has an arm around her, catches her easily, but I take the chance to rush forward anyway and stabilize her with both hands on her slim shoulders.
“You been lookin’ for me, darlin’?” I ask her, lips curved up with the thought that my eyes weren’t the only ones seeking the other out tonight.
“Talkin’ about you,” she says with a slur. Her eyes slide down my body until they come to rest on my groin. “Your giant fucking cock.”
Oh, boy.
My eyes widen and fly to Lexi, who looks amused, and (thankfully) like she doesn’t give a fuck at the same time. My sister-in-law’s sibling can be cool. It’s mine that can’t.
I turn my gaze back to Amelia. “I’d love to hear what you had to say about it, maybe you could tell me over coffee tomorrow?”
“I’ll tell you now,” she drawls, and she’s so damn cute my mouth pulls up at one side. “I said it was beautiful. Massive.”
“And I said maybe I finally understand why all the girls fall in love with you,” Lexi adds, a crooked grin on her face.
Bite back a bigger smirk at that.
“No wonder Wyatt has to threaten you to keep it in your pants. One look and she’s obsessed.”
My stomach falls. She’s not obsessed. She’s just drunk. And maybe a little horny. Hell, who here isn’t?
“I’m not obsessed. I’m fascinated. There’s a difference. And you would be too if you’d seen it,” Amelia says, her nose an inch from Alexis’s face.
“This again,” Lexi says, but she’s laughing. “You, my sister, even my best friend’s husband. I’m surrounded by people who are obsessed with Grady cock. Is this payback from the universe for something I did?”
Amelia gasps. “You believe in cosmic karma too? I knew I liked you.”
“Okay, darlin’. Let’s get you to bed, yeah?”
Amelia’s eyes practically zoom in on me. “You gonna take me to bed, Boy Scout?”
My cock doesn’t have the filter on it my brain does, it doesn’t consider the fact that she’s drunk, off limits while she’s staying in town, and that Wyatt’s sister-in-law is standing right next to her. He practically jumps at the suggestion, all for doing just that.
“I’m going to put you to bed, there’s a big difference there. Jesus Christ, you’re gonna get me in trouble, Amelia.”
“He’s such a Boy Scout!” She jabs a thumb at me.
Lexi waves dismissively. “I already told you, I’m not gonna tattle to your brother. What do I care if two consenting adults have a little fun?”
My eyes narrow in on her.
“Oh, relax. Live a little, West. I’m not saying break her heart, but don’t be so scared to enjoy yourself while you’re here. He doesn’t own you.”
“Hear fucking hear!” Amelia calls out, fist raised in the air in enthusiasm. “Life’s short. Have a little fun.” She waves one arm, gesturing up and down at her body. “I’m little, and I’m fun. Have me!”
Lexi laughs at her before speaking. “Plus, she told me about your dick way before she was shitfaced, so I know it’s not the alcohol talking.”
Amelia shakes her head from side to side in big motions. “Not the alcohol. Maybe a little the alcohol. But not just the alcohol.” She’s speaking a lot slower than she normally does, with a slur I’ve never heard before.
“Okay, Big Momma,” Lexi tells her, spinning Amelia to face me. “I’m going to put you in some good hands now. I want you to text me in the morning and reassure me you survived the night, and I can bring you some painkillers if you need them then.”
“We exchanged numbers,” Amelia tries to whisper it to me, but everyone within fifty feet heard.
I try not to be jealous that Lexi got this girl’s number, and after these couple of weeks I still haven’t. Though, if I had access to her around the clock, I’d probably get us both in trouble, fast. Last thing I need is to be able to tell her the filthy thoughts running through my mind as I’m falling asleep each night.
“We’re officially friends now,” Amelia shout-whispers to me.
“Night, new bestie!” Lexi calls, grinning at the two of us, then patting me on the shoulder as she heads back around to her driver’s side and leaves Amelia with me.
“Let’s get you to bed,” I say to Amelia, one arm under hers, leaned down to support her tiny body with mine.
“Finally! I thought it wasn’t gonna happen for ages but fuck waiting. Let’s do this.”
I tilt my head back for a quick second, ask the Lord what I did to deserve this kind of temptation, this unfair treatment, and regain my resolve.
“What did I tell you the other night?”
She has to pause for longer than usual to think back in this state. “You’re not going to make the first move on me while I’m drunk?”
“Exactly.”
We’re about a quarter of the way to her van now, making slow progress through the gravel lot.
“For the record, I think waiting is bullshit. It’s no one else’s business but ours.”
I hum, wishing that were true. “Sadly, I know someone who would disagree.”
“What stick does your brother have up his ass?”
“Wish I knew, angel.”
She gasps, stopping in her tracks and pulling back from me enough so that she can stare up at my face. “Why did you call me that?”
“Angel? It’s the first thing you reminded me of when I saw you pulled over that night. A dark, morbid little angel with that sense of humor of yours. And, ya know, those tits are heavenly.”
Her eyes shine a little brighter beneath the exterior lights of the garage, but she doesn’t say anything else. Just turns and starts walking toward the van again.
“Good to know you want me,” she huffs. “You’re not just pushing me off.”
Is she feeling rejected? This is a little more hot and cold than I’ve seen from her so far, which I can blame on Dallas for overserving her, but I doubt she’s the kind of woman who gets turned down often. She needs to know that my waiting has nothing to do with her.
“Aw, darlin’. If it isn’t clear to you, I’ve wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you. I just think this plan we have of it happening on your last night is the smartest thing for both of us. We both have our reasons.”
“Ugh,” she practically squeals the word. I can’t tell if it’s excitement, frustration, or some blend of emotions I can’t decipher. And then I catch a faint whisper that I’m not sure she realizes she said aloud. “Two more weeks.”
My fly feels abnormally tight at the thought, and I remind myself I’m being chivalrous here. Putting her to bed, as much as I might want to join her in it.
I shut the van door behind us and look around as she turns on the lights. It’s a gorgeous setup she’s got in here. The finishes look bespoke and damn near brand new, even though I know she’s had this thing for nearly a decade at this point. She upkeeps it well.
Is it weird for me to say that’s hot? A woman that takes care of her vehicle is a turn on for me. Let’s not talk about the state of her engine by the time I found her on the highway, but the fact that she’s kept this van going as well as she has for as long as she has, it’s impressive.
She plops backward, falling onto the bed, arms out in a full starfish.
“What do we have to do to get you ready for bed?”
“Please just let me sleep off the shame of being rejected by you yet again. Hopefully when I wake up, I don’t remember this. I think I deserve that little bit of grace from the universe, don’t you?”
“I have never, and—for the record—would never reject you. There is no shame here, darlin’. But let’s go ahead and get you set up for sleep. What do you need to do?”
“Shower,” she mumbles the word into her shoulder.
“Can you… can you do that here?”
Her arm flops up to point at the mystery door along the side of the van and then falls back down again. I open it up, peer in, and see a wet room complete with a small toilet, a handheld shower wand above it, and a sink in the opposite corner of the tiny room.
I turn on the knob for the water and she jumps out of bed, reanimated instantly at the sound, and damn near runs into me in her haste.
“’Scuse me. Gotta get in, not much water.”
She grabs a towel from some hidden cabinet behind me and shuts herself in the wet room.
Committed to making sure she gets to bed safely, I wander the van, waiting for her, inspecting what I can without invading her privacy by opening drawers or doors.
Several moments later, the water stops, there are more noises from behind the door, and then it cracks open. One tiny, dark-haired enigma of a girl steps out, wet hair down past her chin, nothing but a tan towel wrapped around her body, a few droplets of water still dripping from the ends of her hair onto her bony shoulders.
She looks up at me almost shyly, then squeezes past me to get back to her bed. Amelia pulls the covers back and faces me. “Turn around,” she says quietly, and I do without question.
I hear a soft swish, and the unmistakable sounds of her climbing into bed before there’s a soft, “’Kay.”
When I turn around again, she’s nestled beneath the covers, towel on the floor at the edge of the bed.
“You good to go to sleep now?” I ask her, and she nods sleepily, eyes still on me.
“Can I tell you something before you go?” she asks softly.
“Sure.”
“I can’t stop thinking about it.”
Her eyes haze over as they fall down my body and land on my package, and her meaning becomes clear as the midday sky above the Smokies.
“I want to ride it. Just once.”
If I could bite my knuckle, I would, but I need to keep it together. At least while she can still see me.
“I want that too,” I tell her, the simplest confession of my own.
The fantasies my mind has been racing with starring this woman don’t start or stop with her riding my cock, but that’s certainly going to be the main attraction in tonight’s prime time feature when I’m behind a locked door.
“You still got your toy handy?” I ask her.
Her hand dives beneath the pillow her head is on, and she pulls the case out and waves it in the air. “It’s never far away these days,” she says softly, and that’s my cue.
“You know what to do. Sweet dreams,” I tell her, trying not to smirk.
“They’ll be dirty,” she promises.
“Rory, you missed a good one Friday night.” Lexi’s throaty voice is laced with humor as she watches her sister for a reaction across the picnic table out back at the Grady cabin.
“I had the time of my life here with Miss Front Tooth,” Rory responds, jiggling the knee her baby is sitting on and making her giggle. “Let me tell you, it was a blast for everyone.”
“A fucking hoot,” Wyatt agrees sarcastically.
“Show us that tooth, missy,” her grandfather coos from beside me. It’s hard not to get caught up in the cuteness of these gruff bastards fawning over the sweet little addition to the Grady family, but if you’d told me a few years back these two fuckers would end up like this, dad and grandpa, I wouldn’t have believed you.
Lexi, from my other side, reaches out across the table like she’s going to lift her lip. “Show us that tooth! Come on!”
Our niece giggles, revealing the hint of her lower front incisor in that gummy smile, and everyone at the table cheers, even her dad. Rory pumps the baby’s arms up and down, like she’s celebrating, too, and she giggles even harder.
I try not to focus on the jealousy that surges inside me at the gooey look Wyatt shares with Aurora.
“Well, while I’m sure you were living it up with the teething situation—my literal worst nightmare, by the way—I recruited a new participant into girls’ night,” Lexi continues in her gives-no-fucks drawl.
“You know how I despise cliffhangers, Alexis,” Rory intones.
“All right, buzzkill. It was Amelia. And you should know she’s a fucking riot.”
I feel Lexi’s brown eyes slide onto me, the side of my face hot under her stare, but I keep eating my Gray’s Papaya hot dogs flown in from New York like they’re talking about nothing more than the weather.
If my heart is beating just a little bit faster, a touch louder than usual, no one else seems to notice.
“Yeah?” Rory takes a swig of her papaya drink and puts it down gently on the table before looking back at her sister. “How so?”
This is it , I think. This is where Lexi throws me under the bus and my short-lived peace with Wyatt explodes into cinders and ash.
Instead, Lexi just shrugs and takes a sip of her own drink. “She’s feisty. Our speed. A weirdo, but a funny one. Little bit twisted and dark when you least expect it.”
“Huh,” Rory replies. “What did you guys get up to?”
Wyatt takes his daughter back from his wife’s lap and begins entertaining her, bringing his scruffy face close to hers, cooing and making ridiculous noises at her that make her happy.
It’s hard to be jealous when I saw the man he was for more than a decade without Rory in his life. I don’t begrudge him his happiness. He fucking deserves it. But why is he the only one who gets to find that?
Lexi’s voice brings me out of my head and back into the conversation at hand. “We went to Suds. Played some pool.”
Wyatt smirks at his wife and she makes a face at him I wish I hadn’t seen. Her stepfather, or Gramps as we call him now, huffs and looks off to the side.
“She can really handle her bourbon,” Lex continues.
“Bourbon?” Wyatt asks, a touch of respect in his voice.
“Yep. Even Dallas seemed impressed. He hooked her up with a bunch of shots on the house.”
Lexi looks at the man at the other end of the bench from her and sucks in a breath through her teeth. “Pretend you didn’t hear me say that, eh, Gramps?”
Me? My ears are ringing. Dallas? Took a liking to her?
“I can see that,” Wyatt muses after a second of considering it. “They’ve both got that dark something going for them, don’t they?” He looks at his wife for confirmation. “I’m not much of a romantic, but I think they’d be cute,” he says, and my stomach drops onto the wooden bench where my ass is.
“Sure, you’re not much of a romantic,” Gramps says, looking pointedly at the house behind us all.
“Hmm,” Rory says, breezing past her stepfather’s comment and replying to her husband. “I’m not sure. Might be one of those too much of a good thing kind of situations. Sure she’s cute and adorably morbid on her own, but put her with someone who’s also dark and maybe that takes over. I don’t know, I vote she should be with whoever she wants, but I picture her with someone…lighter. Who balances her out. But that’s just me.”
I could swear it’s not just Lexi’s eyes on me now, I feel Rory’s, too, but I couldn’t tell you because I’ve never been so interested in a hot dog with sauerkraut in my damn life.
“Her engine’s going all right,” Wyatt pipes up.
“Yeah,” I grunt in agreement.
“Probably be done next week,” Wyatt continues, like he doesn’t realize those words are carving holes in my insides.
Or maybe he’s doing it on purpose?
I look up to meet his green gaze and there’s nothing malicious there. In fact, I think this is something like pride he’s looking at me with. Brotherly respect.
Probably the closest thing I could hope for to friendship with him at this point in our lives. It’s enough to warm some of the shadowy parts in me, the two of us, getting along like this. Mom will want video evidence.
Rory looks between us, a rare smile beaming on her face.
“Should be,” I grunt out, nodding at Wyatt.
Next week already? Not sure if I want to drag it out so she’s stuck here, or get it over with so I can finally put my imagination to use.
“Damn, y’all tryin’ to run her out of town already or what?” Lexi jokes.
“Just running a business here, Alexis,” Wyatt retorts. “Something you might get to know about someday.” He eyes her meaningfully and she screeches, glaring at her sister.
“What the fuck Aurora?”
“Like my husband wasn’t going to hear?”
“What happened to attorney client privilege?”
“I’m not your attorney, idiot.”
“Then what are you doing in that fancy office of yours downtown?”
“Running a committee.”
“You’re a lawyer!”
“You never paid me to be your lawyer.”
“Oh, fuck off, you knew that was in confidence!”
“Please, feel free to find the clause that says sisterly confidence holds up in a court of law. I’ll wait here.” Rory couldn’t be dryer if her throat was a desert.
“Oh, so we’re sharing sisterly secrets, is that it?” Lexi’s voice gets dangerously passionate and Rory’s hackles go up.
“Don’t start a war with me you can’t win,” Rory threatens.
“Hey, Wyatt,” Lexi taunts.
“What are you doing?” Rory’s voice is dangerously low.
“Did Rory ever tell you about that guy in New York who?—”
Lexi doesn’t get to finish because Rory launches herself around the table and tackles her sister to cover her mouth.
“Take it back!” Lexi roars when she breaks free of Rory’s grip.
“Fine! You can have attorney client privilege!” Rory concedes.
The three men at the table, myself included, and the baby watch on, the closest thing we’ll get to the kind of entertainment normally reserved for college football here in the Heights.
I bet if I turned my head from the show in front of me and looked at the chicken coop, all the girls would be lined up watching, too, even Henrietta the Eighth who’s notoriously fussy and choosy about who she reveals herself around.
“Fine,” Lexi says, head held high.
“Sucker,” Rory mutters as she heads back to her seat.
“What did you just call me?”
“Nothing.”
“Oh, okay. Well then, why don’t we talk about the?—”
“Oh, for crying out loud!” Rory backpedals, but it’s too late. Lexi’s eyes are locked on Wyatt’s.
“—man who used to make her sandwiches at the bodega!” Lexi declares triumphantly, and Rory huffs out loudly, stomping a foot and glaring her down with narrowed eyes.
“You’re such a bitch!”
“Takes one to know one!” Lexi retorts.
“You know, if you ever get in a relationship, I’m going to remember this moment. Payback is an even bigger twat than you are sometimes,” Rory tells her.
“Sandwich man?” Wyatt asks in a dangerously low voice.
“There’s nothing to know,” Rory insists, reclaiming her seat next to him and putting a hand on his thigh for reassurance. “He was just really good with his meat,” she says calmly, with a little shrug.
My brother’s eye twitches.
It feels like poetic justice for all the shit he’s given me since my return.
And for that reason— maybe just the tiniest bit also because of the progress we’ve made while working together this past week—my third family dinner in the Heights is the best one I’ve had so far.