3. Chapter 3
Chapter 3
T hree Months Later
Jorie licked peanut butter off her thumb before washing the knife she’d used to make a sandwich, along with a couple of dirty mugs left in the break room sink. Technically, it wasn’t in her job description to clean up after everyone, but during her first week at Curtis Garage, she’d taken it upon herself to keep the break room tidy, the bathroom and locker room clean. She despised dirty dishes left to pile up in the sink, and if she wanted to sit down on the toilet? Yeah. Men were gross.
“Dad, it might be five o’clock and quitting time there, but I’ve still got a couple of hours left here. You’re lucky I just wrapped up a repair, or I wouldn’t be taking a break to talk to you.”
She stayed busy, and she loved it. The only thing she hadn’t quite adjusted to yet was the colder temperatures—and Ezra’s stern demeanor.
The man watched her like a hawk, quick to offer constructive criticism but stingy with praise. Still, when he did say “good work” in that sexy, gruff way of his, Jorie swore it sounded like good girl. And every single time, it heated her core and dampened her panties.
Every. Single. Time.
“If you’d stop this nonsense and move back…” Her dad’s voice boomed from the speaker of her phone, which she’d set on the counter to multitask.
“Dad, I’m not coming home. This is where I live now.”
Jorie winced. Thinking about her damp panties while talking to her father? Yeah, no.
“What about Christmas? You’ll be coming home next week, won’t you?”
“Nope.” Jorie’s reply was muffled around a bite of sandwich as she dunked a couple of tea bags into the large, insulated mug she planned to take with her into the garage after her break. “I told you this at Thanksgiving. I’m still within the probationary period at work, and as the lowest person on the roster, I don’t have any vacation time yet.” She was also the only woman on the roster, but her father didn’t need to know that. He worried, nagged, and whined enough as it was.
“But I miss you. Christmas won’t be the same. Jolie isn’t coming home either,” he grumbled, sounding just like his namesake—a grumpy old grizzly bear.
She knew. Her twin would be spending Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, and the following four days with Jorie in the quaint but stunning little town of Wintervale.
“You won’t miss us,” she countered. “Besides, you weren’t even home last year. You and Moss went on a run, remember? Jolie and I were the ones holding down the shop, making food for the brothers who weren’t visiting family for the holiday. This year, you’ll either have to stay home and take care of things yourself or make the Prospects do it.”
Sorry, not sorry.
When her father didn’t argue, Jorie knew she’d hit the nail on the head. He needed someone he trusted to take care of the shop while he and the brothers had their fun.
“Hmm. I ran into Rooster a few weeks ago. He was wondering when you’re coming home to stay.”
“Rooster? What? Why?” Jorie blinked in confusion. Hadn’t he joined another club?
“I think the boy’s sweet on you.”
“Ah, Lord love a duck! Dad, do not encourage him.”
“Why not? It’d keep the relationship between the clubs strong. You could come back home where you belong, start working for the club again… and hey, as his ol’ lady, the two clubs might even set you up in a nice house somewhere in between us.”
Her dad almost sounded giddy.
Well, as giddy as Grizzly could be, anyway, but Jorie could hear he was gearing up to list Rooster’s positive traits—while conveniently ignoring the negatives, and there were plenty. Jorie had been two years behind Rooster in high school, and she’d seen first-hand how his bad qualities far outweighed the good. It was almost laughable how many hearts he’d broken and how many fights among the girls he’d started.
Unnerved and more than a little disturbed, Jorie felt a panic rising. She could see where this was going and needed to nip this awful idea in the bud.
“Not even if Rooster were the last man on Earth! Seriously, Dad, I’d switch sides and become a lesbian first.” Jorie declared. “Not only no, but hell no. Are you near a wall?”
“A wall? No, why?” Grizzly sounded confused.
“Because you need to find one—and fast—and then bash your head against it a few times to knock that stupid idea right out of your brain.”
“He isn’t that bad.” Her dad’s rumbling laughter echoed, like a cement mixer tumbling gravel. Despite the unpleasantness of the subject, it made her smile, though it didn’t distract her.
“The guy’s a manwhore. Man. Whore, Dad. Doesn’t he have, like, three kids with as many baby mamas? And he’s not even twenty-five, for crying out loud. Absolutely not.”
“Hey, respect. We don’t judge, remember?” Grizzly, the club brother and not her father, scolded.
“Really? You mean you don’t judge the brothers in the club or the clubs you’re friendly with, but princesses, club girls, and the rest of the world don’t get the same luxury, do they?” Jorie pushed it, but her dad honestly didn’t get it.
She switched tactics to make her point. “Let me ask you this—would you take a club girl as an ol’ lady?”
“Eh, fuck no.” Grizzly responded. “Although a brother here or there might consider it, we all know whores can’t be trusted.”
“Then why should I? I have absolutely no feelings for Rooster beyond mild disgust, and I won’t be bulldozed into a relationship with him by you or anyone else to benefit the club. God, Dad, don’t you see? This is the same situation you and Mom were forced into for years—and look how that turned out. You cheated. Repeatedly, I might add, and she left. I refuse to be used. As your daughter, my wellbeing should be your first priority!” Jorie practically shouted.
She didn’t feel like she’d ever been first, and neither had Jolie. They weren’t second or third either. There was no way she was going to let history repeat itself, but yelling at her father felt like peeing up a hill—disastrous.
Jorie took a calming breath and then another. She knew one thing—“Dad, if and when I ever commit to a man, I’m going to love him and only him…and he’s going to cherish me.” A sexy image of Ezra popped into her mind, causing her breath to catch. It was the same thing every time she thought of him, saw him, or even heard his voice.
A storm of sexual tension blew up inside her, twisting and whirling into a tornado of desire, and she couldn’t stop it. It hadn’t changed since their very first meeting. Lordy, the man was fine—with his dark, snapping eyes and grumpy attitude. Add in that sexy beard, and her fingers itched to pet him. That wasn’t the only part of her that tingled, either, but she couldn’t —no, wouldn’t—think about that now. Ezra was a total and annihilating distraction. It was happening so often that Jorie had even given it a name.
The E-zone.
Swear to God, her lips went numb, and her brain short-circuited. The confident woman she prided herself on being took a backseat to a tongue-tied, awkward twit. Case in point—it took a moment for her to shake off the unsettling sensation and realize she was still on the phone with her dad.
“I’m sorry for yelling,” Jorie apologized after remembering what they were saying. She really was sorry. More often than not, Jorie felt like the parent in their relationship, and she struggled between feeling guilty for voicing those hard truths and expressing her love for the big man-child who tried his best to raise her and Jolie. “Listen, my break is almost over… I’ll—uh, we’ll finish this later, okay? I love you, Daddy.”
She smashed the button to end the call and hung her head. Yeah, she’d spoken what was on her mind and in her heart, but she could have maybe softened it. Jorie hadn’t called him "Daddy" in a long time, and it wasn’t her intention to hurt him. She just needed him to… she didn’t know what… change? Yeah, well, that would make her a hypocrite, wouldn’t it? If Jorie wanted the freedom to live her own life as she saw fit, then she couldn’t judge his choices either. Shit. Now she really owed him another apology.
For now though, her break was over, and she had to get back to work. Jorie resolved to call him the moment she got home. She quickly tucked her phone into the inner pocket of her coveralls. Exhaling a huge, pouty breath, even going so far as to pop her lip out, Jorie picked up the steaming mug of tea, turned to leave the break room—and screamed bloody murder. Well, it would have been bloody murder, but with her heart pounding out of her chest and her mouth stretched wide, all that escaped was a high-pitched wheeze.