Chapter Seven
TYLER
The sun hasn’t risen yet, but I wake up anyway and make coffee. Thankfully, Sassy is sleeping in Everleigh’s room, or she’d be begging to go out or barking for attention, and it’s too early for either.
As I’m waiting for the drip to stop, I think back to Friday night at the pub and taking Gemma home afterward.
One thing’s for certain, it was awkward as hell between us. I’m stuck wondering what I should say and how much I should share. We’re not friends and haven’t been for a long time. I’m sure she hasn’t forgiven me, either, but I can’t deny the way she still affects me.
As we sat on the couch, I could smell her fruity shampoo. It was so familiar and brought me back to a time when I was allowed to touch and kiss her. But her engagement ring—or rather, rock—was the reminder I needed that things can never go back to how they were.
She’ll be married soon and one hundred percent off-limits.
My heart pounded in my chest as too many unspoken words and stolen glances lingered between us.
It was better that I left before either of us acted on whatever the fuck was bubbling under the surface.
I’m sure her fiancé wouldn’t appreciate a convict being in his woman’s house at nearly two in the morning.
I’d almost bet money he wouldn’t like me sleeping on her couch, either.
So, to avoid any trouble, I got the hell out.
I needed some fresh air to clear my head anyway, and she needed to sober up.
The following day, I finally joined the gym and am happy I have a place to blow off some steam. I hope to make a friend or two outside my sister’s circle and work.
When I was in prison, I worked out as much as I could, but I missed putting on gloves and training people how to box like I did before shit hit the fan.
The ring always felt like home. Though this gym doesn’t have one, it has a small area with punching bags that’ll work for now.
I think about how boxing helped Mason and Liam work through their issues.
If it can help them, then it can undoubtedly help me.
I want the life I had before the O’Learys entered it.
It’s Monday morning, and I’ve been on edge all weekend about seeing Gemma today.
Instead of dwelling on it, I pour some coffee into a travel mug and change into my workout clothes.
I’ll drink it on the way to the gym. When I step outside, I’m surprised it’s not blazing hot yet.
I spend an hour working out, then go home, shower, and get ready for work.
Now that my mind is clear, I’m hoping I’ll be able to focus, but it’ll be hard being around Gemma.
Just as I’m leaving, Everleigh wakes up and wishes me good luck on my first day.
I keep replaying how Gemma begged me to stay over and how she admitted she still worries about me.
I think about it while I walk the few blocks to work.
I check the time and know Jerry will be happy with how punctual I am.
I suck in a few deep breaths as I walk into the waiting area. Gemma’s busy on the computer, but when she looks at me, she blushes and quickly averts her eyes.
She was embarrassed about being a tipsy hot mess Friday night, but I thought it was kinda adorable. Drunk Gemma’s fun and easygoing and not so reserved once the alcohol hits her system. But now, we’re back to where we were when I arrived here on Wednesday last week—awkward tension.
The silence pierces my ears.
Thankfully, Jerry walks in and greets me in his booming fatherly voice. I smile as he picks up a donut.
“I have to pull some engines this mornin’, so I thought Gemma could show you around the place and give you a rundown of shop rules. We can meet up after lunch, and I’ll get you started on your first project.”
“Okay, sounds great.”
Jerry grabs a cup of coffee, then goes back to the garage. Once Gemma and I are alone again, all the air in the room seems to evaporate.
She finishes typing something, then stops and looks at me. “Well, this is the lobby where customers wait, over there is the customer bathroom, and next to it is the break room and fridge—employees only, though.”
I chuckle at her smart-ass tone. “Yep. Figured that much out.”
Gemma walks out from behind the counter and takes me into the garage. It’s much smaller than I remember it being. She explains where all the tools are kept, and her dad’s hard rules.
“My dad runs a tight ship. He’s fired people for being lazy and late,” she warns.
I make a mental note not to disappoint him.
“Make sure to clean up after yourself,” she adds. “Messy shop, unhappy Pops.”
After the grand tour, she takes me into the small office that smells like engine oil and Old Spice.
She stares at me.
“Can we forget about Friday? I’m absolutely humiliated by my behavior.”
I lean against the frame of the door and cross my arms over my chest. “No way. Forget seeing you down in your underwear, begging me to sleep on your couch? It’s been on repeat in my head all weekend.”
She groans. “When you say it like that, it sounds much worse than what really happened, though it’s still pretty bad.”
“Whiskey is your kryptonite. But I kinda like that about you. You weren’t so uptight.”
“I’m not uptight.”
“No?” Grinning, I tuck my hands in my pockets. “Okay, well maybe we both are. You more than me, though.”
She glares, and I laugh.
Gemma grabs a book from the desk, then changes the subject. She sits and flips it open.
“This is the schedule book where we write the appointments. It’s old-school, but Dad prefers not to have to get on the computer for anything, so I save it electronically but also write it in here.
If you ever wonder what’s planned for the week, it’s here.
” She taps her finger on the pages. Her handwriting is as meticulous as I remember it.
I lean over and look at the calendar. She tilts her head, aware of how close I am. I pretend I don’t notice how her breasts rise and fall, but I do.
“Awesome, seems straightforward.”
My breath brushes against her skin. Goose bumps form on her arms, and I take a step back, needing space. Those old emotions threaten to come to the surface, but I force them away.
“Great.” She stands and walks out of the office.
Before following her, I regain my composure, then meet her back in the waiting room.
Only three chairs sit against the wall in front of the counter, which is big enough to hold a computer, keyboard, and enough space to write a check.
Yes, a check, because they’re so damn old-fashioned here. Mimi still refuses to get a debit card.
“That’s pretty much all I have for you, and there’s still a few hours before lunch.” She doesn’t look up at me as she types.
“What do I do then? Your dad isn’t meeting with me until after lunch.”
“Not sure. Wash the windows? Sweep the floor? Clean the bathroom?”
Though she’s messing with me, the windows are filthy. Instead of sitting around, I decide to make myself useful.
“Alright, where are the cleaning supplies?”
“I wasn’t serious.”
“Yeah, but look at them. I can take care of it and anything else you need, then meet your dad after lunch.”
She meets my eyes again. Her gaze nearly paralyzes me in place, and I wonder if she feels it too.
“Under the sink in the break room. Extra rags are in the supply closet.”
I nod and get to work. I find a bucket, soap, and spare towels. After filling it with scalding water, I grab my supplies and go outside. I’m drenched with sweat after washing one window from top to bottom. It’s the distraction I need, and I lose myself in these damn windows.
I try not to let my thoughts wander too much, but after all this time, it’s hard to believe she’s only a few feet away.
Her mannerisms are still the same. When she’s concentrating hard, she bites her bottom lip and tilts her head.
I used to find it so adorable when I’d tell her about the military because she didn’t fully understand it.
She used to be a crossword junkie and still taps her pen against the paper when she’s lost in thought.
It takes me over two hours to clean the glass, and it’s so clean when I look inside that I can see Gemma staring at me.
When I catch her, she glances away.
Boundaries, I remind myself. She’s fucking engaged to a man who can give her everything she’s ever wanted. What do I have to offer other than a fucked-up past and a pile of baggage?
I tackle the restroom next and don’t leave until it sparkles. Anything to take me away from being in the lobby right now.
When it’s lunchtime, I put away the supplies, then let Gemma know I’m going on my break. She tells me I have an hour, which is plenty of time to rinse off the sweat at home and change clothes. I’ll have to hurry so I can grab something to eat before I return.
After I clean up, I stop by the pub and grab a cheeseburger since it’s on the way to the garage. Once I scarf down my food in four big bites, I rush back.
When I walk in, Gemma ignores my existence like I’m an annoying mosquito. Avoiding me is for the best, or at least that’s what I tell myself so we don’t get too close.
Going out to the shop, I find Jerry happily sipping on a milkshake. There’s an old malt shop on the corner of Main where all the older people like to visit. I forgot about that place until now.
“Ready to get started?” he asks.
“Sure am.”
He takes me over to the lift where a car is already in the air.
“This one needs an oil change and tire rotation.” He peeks his head out the door where the small side parking lot is full.
“And so do those six. I’ll be workin’ on these Jeep engines for the rest of the week, so if you can take care of all the service items, that’d help me out a ton. ”
“No problem. Sounds easy enough,” I answer confidently.
“Good, but if you have any issues or questions, just ask.”
“Will do.”
It’s bitch work, but I’m happy to do it. As I grab the tools and filters I’ll need, Jerry calls out my name.
“Yeah?” I spin toward him.
“Good job with the windows. I can actually see my reflection in them now,” he says with a belly laugh.
“Thank you, sir.” I smile, then continue.
For the rest of the day, I spend my time carefully changing out oil filters and tightening and loosening bolts and lug nuts. When I finish each car and truck, I give Gemma the keys after I’ve parked them out front for pick up.
By closing time, I’m exhausted. My arms are sore from moving heavy tires around, and my clothes are drenched with sweat and grease. Even with a big box fan and all the doors open, the humidity is still torturous.
I go inside after finishing the oil change on the last car for the day, walk past Gemma at the counter, and grab some water from the dispenser. Just as she goes to lock the door, an older clean-cut man walks in carrying an oversized bouquet of pink and white roses.
And I know exactly who he is.
The way he carries himself tells me he thinks he’s hot shit. It’s almost comical how smug he looks, but I keep my opinions to myself. I would’ve never pictured Gemma with someone like him.
I shouldn’t watch them, but I can’t help it.
“Thank you,” she says quietly.
Mr. Egomaniac places his arm around her and pulls her in for a kiss. She returns it, but her shoulders tense before she pulls away.
It’s obvious he’s trying to show off for whatever reason. Instead of witnessing their public display of affection, I turn my back to them and drink my water.
“What’s the special occasion?” Gemma asks.
“I’m taking you to a fancy lobster dinner at Cajun Seafood tonight.”
“Really?”
“I’m meeting a client and would love to introduce him to my future wife,” he explains.
And there it is.
Butter her up with flowers and the mention of a nice dinner to look good in front of other uptight men.
When I walk to the break room, the grin on her face falters.
God, he’s a moron.
And this act, fuck. It’s disgusting.
She’s smart enough to see it, but then again, maybe she’s not the same girl I fell in love with all those years ago. He’s using her to show how much of a family man he is while also putting her on display like she’s some kind of trophy. I finish my water, and Jerry comes in with a wide smile.
“You did well today and were an enormous help,” Jerry says. “I think we might get caught up before the end of next week. Thanks for workin’ so hard.”
“Well, thank you again for the opportunity. I appreciate it more than I can explain.”
After we exchange our goodbyes, I leave. There’s no way I’m sticking around to watch the Gemma-and-fiancé shitshow. Before I can walk past the counter, her man stops me, sizing me up.
“Who’s this?” he asks Gemma.
“I’m Tyler.” I reach out to shake his hand.
He gives me a million-dollar smile that’s fake as fuck and squeezes my hand as hard as he can. It’s a warning, and I squeeze back just as hard.
“He’s my dad’s new employee,” Gemma explains. “So he doesn’t get behind over the summer.”
“I’m Robert, Gemma’s future husband.”
I swallow down a laugh at how obnoxious he is.
“Congrats. Well, I gotta go. Nice meeting you,” I say dryly and get the fuck out of there.
My adrenaline spikes as I walk outside and notice he’s talking to Gemma with his arms raised. Intimidation isn’t a good look for him, especially since he seems like the type of guy who doesn’t take no for an answer.
Instead of going home, I stop by Everleigh’s boutique. The front door is locked, so I tap lightly, and when she sees me, she rushes to let me in.
“Hey!” She gives me a side hug before re-locking the door. “How was your first day?”
“It was work. Got filthy and hustled.”
Everleigh straightens up racks and refolds shirts that were picked up and crumpled by customers. I admire what she’s been able to accomplish with her store. It’s cozy and hip, a place she would’ve killed to walk through when she was a teen. Everything here reflects her personality.
“Was Gemma weird today?” she asks. “I mean, with you being there, did she seem like it bothered her?”
“Nah. Not until her future husband walked in.” I roll my eyes.
Everleigh snorts. “He tries too hard sometimes.”
“No shit.”
“He means well, but he’s very concerned about his reputation.”
“I noticed.” He sticks out like a sore thumb in his expensive suit and George Clooney haircut.
“He’s not Gemma’s type at all. I mean, he’s a good-looking guy, but he’s too old for her.”
That makes me snort because I thought the same thing. “How old is he anyway?”
“Like forty-five or something. Gemma told me he uses Touch of Gray hair dye. But you didn’t hear that from me.” She laughs, then puts a finger over her lips.
“Seriously?”
I’d laugh if I didn’t have so many questions, but I also don’t bother asking. Based on the little information Everleigh told me, the feeling I had when he first walked into the shop was valid.
I’m already convinced she’s not as in love with him as she claims. She’s settling.
But the real question is why?