5. Wade
5
WADE
Well that went to shit faster than I’d thought it would.
She seemed more unsettled by my asking about the apartment than she was by nearly choking to death in front of me. It didn’t help that I’d shown up in her backyard without notice, then kept my arms around her for longer than strictly necessary after she could breathe again. Ogling her ass when she bent over, and being unable to take my eyes off her breasts long enough to offer much in the way of coherent conversation, hadn’t done me any favors either.
What social skills I had felt rustier than my first Charger, which was currently up on blocks behind the garage shed, waiting for the free time I never had to restore it.
I had a better chance of salvaging that wreck than I did this one.
August stood there, her chin sticking out stubbornly and her bare feet planted firmly apart. Her posture had gone from self-conscious to self-righteous, which did great things for the lush breasts delectably framed by her crossed arms.
Eyes up, asshole .
“I’m signed up to the same site,” I said staring directly into her eyes instead of looking down again. They were pretty eyes, tipped up at the corners and a shade of blue so dark they were almost indigo. The deep kind of blue you could fall right into if you weren’t careful. “I get notifications when a place goes up for sale or rent in the area. You pinged me yesterday.”
“I didn’t ping you,” she declared, as if I’d accused her of grabbing my ass. Something I would have been fine with, by the way.
“The apartment did. It’s in the right location.”
Her brow furrowed. “For what? Why are you getting pings anyway? I thought you already rented out your place.”
“Who told you that?” Had she been asking about me?
“Gene mentioned it yesterday, remember? He asked if the guy renting your apartment could help out with a car.”
“Right, right.” I hadn’t realized she was listening that closely. I rubbed the back of my neck. “Well, that’s a long, boring story. And I believe we were talking about you.”
“No, we were talking about why my apartment pinged you.”
I’d taken off from the garage like my ass was on fire when I should have thought this through a bit longer. Texted her. Maybe asked Kingston for some advice, since he’d always been the smooth talker of our duo. He could have told me that a corner-store balloon and an unscheduled car drop-off wouldn’t be the icebreakers for this conversation I thought they’d be. He would have told me to “Use my words.” The smartass was always saying shit like that.
I took a deep breath to center myself. “Okay, so here’s the deal. I?—”
My phone dinged in my back pocket. Once. Twice. Three times.
“More apartments hitting on you?” she asked dryly.
“It can wait. ”
“It might be important.”
“ This is important.”
She scowled at my pants. In case you were wondering, that was not the reaction a guy wanted to see from a woman he was interested in. Especially not when she was checking out the goods.
“It could be your very pregnant niece with an emergency.”
She had a point.
I pulled my still-dinging phone out of my pocket, and August said, “I’m going to go change while you deal with that. You can park my car in the driveway behind Jiminy. Then we—” She flicked her fingers back and forth between us. “—are going to finish this discussion.”
If she could make something I wanted to happen sound like a threat, so could I. “I’m not leaving until we do.”
I tried not to ogle her ass again when she walked out of the kitchen, but I couldn’t help noticing that it was still bitable as hell.
Then I looked at my phone. These texts definitely could have waited.
Bernie: I’m buried in classes and then an early Wreckers rehearsal. Can you pick up Phoebe’s vitamins on your lunch break, Wade?
Phoebe: And Oreos.
Bernie: You don’t need Oreos.
Phoebe: The baby does. And yay band rehearsal. That means Uncle Wade and I can watch Bad Batch without commentary. My baby daddy has exams to grade.
Bernie: Stop calling Todd your baby daddy. It’s demeaning.
Phoebe: Fine. The professor who impregnated me during coitus has exams to grade. Better?
Bernie: So. Much. Worse. Just for that, I’ll be catching up on Traitors when I get home. FYI Stopping at Barnaby’s for pesto chicken sandwiches for dinner. Yum. And Crab is sleeping over tonight. He’ll take the floor, but he doesn’t want to make the drive back to La Grange until you check his car, Wade. It’s making weird noises.
This was my life. I didn’t mind running errands for my family, but the rest of it? Sharing sleep space with random members of my sister’s band, and fixing everyone’s cars whenever there was a glitch for whatever they could afford to pay? Never mind that I was buried in double my usual workload and had a house to look for.
I was Reliable Wade. Responsible Wade. Methodical Wade.
For almost forty-nine years, I’d been pigeonholed as the one that took every bump in the road with a shrug, and then slogged through and got it done. It made me the friend and boss people felt they could turn to every time there was a problem.
Like needing a tow from the airport at the ass-crack of dawn, or expecting me to find a new car for a race in all the spare time I didn’t have.
I wasn’t complaining. Not much, anyway. I’d never had a problem being that guy. Sometimes I even enjoyed it. But yesterday morning really messed with my head, and seeing August’s apartment for rent had only made things worse.
Needing a moment to regroup, I went out through the front door to unhook her car from my truck. After I backed it in behind the VW, I propped the sun shade between the weathered dash and the cracked windshield, and rolled the windows down an inch to vent the heat, smelling butterscotch for some reason. Then I got out and removed the paper mat I’d put down to protect the carpet, scooted the seat forward again so she could reach the pedals, and glanced around to make sure everything was back where it belonged.
I didn’t love the idea of her driving around in a twenty-year-old car that was anything but reliable, so I’d done all I could to make sure it was safe. Including a few things she’d never see on any bill.
She could sue me if she didn’t like it, but she’d have to figure it out first, I thought as I wadded up the mat and tossed it into the cab of my truck on my way by, then headed back to the kitchen.
Gus was still nowhere to be seen, so I stuck my hands in my pockets and wandered slowly around the room. From what I’d seen, it was still the nicest one in the house. The older couple she bought it from had planned a total renovation, but they’d only done the kitchen, adding bay windows, a breakfast nook and butcher block counters, before giving up and offering her a deal so they could fuck off to be ski bums in Colorado.
There was an old postcard from them on her stainless-steel fridge. It was surrounded by pictures of her family. One of her and Morgan when they were kids, standing in front of the VW’s predecessor, whose name had apparently been Jack. Another of Morgan and her mother together in a recognizable but unfinished Charlie’s Angels pose, with August laughing and stepping partially out of frame.
At first glance, none of them looked anything alike. The five-foot-nothing pixie-sized Sam, with her curly blonde hair and big blue eyes. The tall, light brown Morgan, her hair straightened for the occasion and a knowing smirk on her face. And August, temptation personified, with a riot of big hazelnut curls and wide, full lips framing a breathtaking smile.
I hadn’t seen that smile in a long time .
The sound of scratching at the back door had me walking over to open it.
Merlin stood there, a paper plate covered in crumbs and drool clutched firmly in his mouth.
We took some time sizing each other up. This dog and I always got along, but I knew better than to try and pet him when food was involved. “Hey, wizard.”
He tilted his head, his tail giving a one-wag salute, and then he was moving past me, headed toward the living room with his prize.
I wouldn’t rat him out if he’d show me the same courtesy.
I was closing the door again when August reappeared, tugging at the hem of her long black T-shirt. Her now-supported breasts still strained against the fabric, where a unicorn cavorted above the words I Will Cut You . I’d take that as another warning to keep my distance. She’d swapped out her slouchy shorts for some form-fitting khaki ones that did great things for her legs and tamed her curls into a no-nonsense bun.
Armor achieved.
“You were going to tell me how you knew about the apartment,” she said, picking up exactly where we’d left off as she leaned against the counter.
“Have you gotten any hits on it yet?”
My phone started up again and, after glancing at the notifications, I turned it off because it was the quickest way I knew to escape the damn thread.
She was staring at me as if trying to decide whether or not to tell me to mind my own business, but she wanted answers too, so she sighed and gave in. “A few. I actually have one pretty good applicant in the running.”
“Is that right,” I said flatly.
“That’s right. This Terry guy looks great on paper. Who knows? He could be the white knight who’ll save me from having to apply for a job at the nearest burger joint,” she joked .
This Terry guy?
I instantly imagined spearing her knight with the nearest available lance.
“Not that I need a renter to live or anything,” she said quickly, misreading the expression on my face. “The house could use some repairs and a little glow-up I didn’t budget for, that’s all. I’m putting it up for sale once that’s finished, so you might get another ping then. And I wasn’t saying there was anything wrong with working burger joints. I’ve done it before—I’m just not all the way back to fighting form, and the idea gives me hives because it’s like admitting defeat, which I refuse to do until I’m living in a box or an actual van down by the river. And I’m nowhere close to either of those yet so please forget I said anything,” she finished in a rush, her bright-pink cheeks making her face glow.
There it was. Confirmation. She was planning to leave, and I was about to miss my chance. Again.
Every part of me rejected that idea. Particularly the bullshit about some other guy swooping in to save the day.
I didn’t put much credence in divine intervention or those signs from the universe my stepmom and sister were always looking for. But showing up here today, right before she convinced herself to rent to “this Terry guy” was as close to it as I’d ever come.
“What if I have a better option?”
She frowned. “A better option for what?”
“‘Better’ is obviously in the eye of the beholder,” I started, with what I hoped was a self-deprecating smile. As tense as I was, it was hard to tell. “It feels egotistical to be my own reference here, but I’ll do it if I have to.”
“Your own reference?” She stared at me as if I were speaking another language.
I exhaled hard enough to move the air around the room and went for uncomfortable honesty. “I agreed to rent out the garage’s apartment back when I thought I’d find a house as quickly as you did. But the market’s changed since then and I haven’t had the same luck, so I’ve been sleeping on Bernie and Phoebe’s couch bed for nearly a week.”
She sent me a skeptical look. “You rented your apartment before you had another place to live? That doesn’t sound like something someone like you would do.”
Someone like me.
“Well, that’s what happened,” I said a little shortly. “I promised one of my younger mechanics he could have my place at the first of the month, and I didn’t want to go back on my word because I’d miscalculated.” I hesitated, then felt the need to add, “He was living in his car.”
She muttered something that sounded like lady bait . “ That sounds more like something you’d do. I didn’t realize you were house hunting, though. I feel compelled to warn you that homeownership is a giant pain in the ass, Wade.”
“It can’t be much harder than owning a business. And I’ll take those pains for a backyard with a grill and a tub big enough to do more than stand in,” I countered. “Until then, I think you should forget Terry and rent the apartment to me.”
August blinked up at me with big eyes. “To you? You think I should rent the apartment in my backyard to you ?”
She didn’t have to sound so disconcerted by the suggestion.
“Bernie has a 24/7 open-door policy with her band buddies,” I continued, not bothering to hide my irritation. “And Phoebe is up all night with cravings, false contractions and boyfriend troubles. Don’t get me started on the constant text threads. I’d give them both a kidney if they needed it, but I haven’t gotten a full night’s sleep all week.”
She’d started to pace around her kitchen as I spoke. “What about Morgan’s guest room?”
“She offered, but the dogs are…a lot. ”
At my words, August raised her fist for a bump, only to grab it with her other hand and pull it into her chest. “Sorry, my bad. It would be disloyal to fist-bump you for talking shit about my niece and nephew puppies, but I couldn’t agree any harder without hand gestures.”
I grinned. “I see we have something in common.”
“What? Being horrible people who bad-mouth innocent dogs behind their backs?” When I chuckled, her lips curved in wry amusement. “I can’t believe I used to think all collies were dignified and heroic. Lassie was a lie.”
“They’re goodhearted. And if it were just them, I could have sucked it up and stayed there. Unfortunately, there’s also Ann to consider.”
“The dog sitter?”
I grimaced because it was another thing I wasn’t proud of. “Morgan fixed us up once and I never called her back. She’d probably key my truck if she saw it in the driveway.”
“You dated their dog sitter?”
Good call, mentioning that. Real smart, Wade.
“One time. She was unexpectedly aggressive and wouldn’t take no for an answer. It didn’t make for a pleasant experience.” I passed on coming in for a nightcap and she went from flirty to frightening fast enough to be disturbing.
“Huh.”
Shit, I was losing her. “The point is, I need peace and quiet until I can get my self-induced housing situation resolved. You need a renter you can trust who won’t take advantage of you. This is the perfect solution for both of us.”
“You’re serious.”
She had no idea. “You know where my family lives and where I work. Gene has copies of all my tax returns for the last decade, so he can vouch for me being good for the rent money.”
“I haven’t told you how much I’m charging. ”
“It’s on the site already, and I would have paid more. I will pay more, because you’re lowballing, trying to get someone in here fast.” Take that, Terry.
“You think so?”
“I know so. You included use of the pool. That alone is worth an extra couple hundred a month.” When she didn’t jump on it, I said, “You’re thinking about it. I can tell.”
“Of course, I’m thinking about it,” she grumbled, still looking adorably rattled. “I wouldn’t have put my address online if I weren’t. But don’t you think going with strangers for rentals would be easier for both of us?”
I scowled. “Why the hell would I think that?”
August gave me a look that said Really ?
“Because doing business with friends and family is never a good idea,” she answered repressively. “I know you work and currently live with your family, but most people keep their professional and personal lives separate, for good reason. There are also the Retta rules of hospitality to consider.”
I bit back another curse, because I was very fucking familiar. Sam’s number-one rule for herself and her daughters was to never accept help from a friend under any circumstances, but to always offer it vehemently and unconditionally, even if it put you out and was a gigantic pain in the ass you’d regret for the rest of your life.
It was a wrongheaded rule that had more to do with pride than sense, but they all tried to follow it anyway. Especially Morgan, whom August was no doubt thinking about when she made the comment. The only time she’d accepted a favor from my family was the eight months she’d lived in our house before college. Thirty years later, she still insisted she owed us.
“Morgan wanted you to rent the apartment out last year. She wouldn’t have a problem with this.”
August looked annoyed at the reminder. “The fact that it’s you would change things for her. She knows you can afford a better place and I’m not exactly your favorite person.”
“Why would you say that?”
“This conversation is the longest we’ve had in years, Wade. She’d put two and two together and come up with me accepting charity from her best friend, the guy who gives away his own apartment to someone in need.”
I didn’t agree with any part of that sentence. I took a step closer and she stopped pacing to meet my gaze. “I like you just fine, Gus. But if it worries you, there’s a simple fix that you aren’t seeing.”
She lifted her chin again. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”
“We don’t tell her.”
“You’re going to keep this from Morgan and her husband, who spends all his free time with you, working on his cars?” She frowned to herself for a second. “You work on his racecars for Lemons.”
“Nearly every weekend for years. And I can keep it from them because it’s none of their business. I need a place and you’ve got one. As far as I’m concerned, those two favors cancel each other out. As far as they’re concerned? I’m staying with you because you’re a kind and generous woman taking pity on an old man’s back.”
I needed her to say yes. “I’ll fill out the paperwork today and move in after work tonight. Check in hand or electronic payment in your account. Whatever you prefer.”
“That’s so fast. I mean, the place is ready but…just like that?”
“Just like that. And if you’re worried about the bill for Myrtle, skip the apartment deposit on the lease and we’ll call it even.”
“It’s only available for a few months,” she reminded me, obviously weakening.
I managed to keep from pumping my fist in the air, but it was a near thing. “Four or five max.” I’d take every bit of time she’d allotted on that website. “I’ll be in a house of my own by then, and in the meantime, you’ll barely notice I’m here.”
Her “Hah!” made my smile widen. Yeah. That was another lie. I planned to become impossible for her to ignore.
“It feels like a trap,” she said under her breath. Because she had good instincts.
“It feels like escaping one to me.” I moved in as close as I dared, until I could see those thick lashes framing her uncertain eyes. “Say yes, Gus.”
I wanted her to say yes to more than a lease, but this was a start.
“You don’t need to do a walkthrough first?”
“I’ve seen it before. It has everything I need,” I murmured, staring at her mouth.
“It comes furnished and the bed is only a queen. You won’t fit.”
There was no way that wouldn’t suck, but I wasn’t going to haggle for my bed yet. I didn’t want to chance her changing her mind. “Still better than Bernie’s couch.”
“We can try a month-to-month lease,” she finally said, putting me out of my misery. “That way if you throw wild keggers and leave blow-up sex dolls in the pool, I can kick you out.”
“Month-to-month and no sex dolls,” I repeated dutifully, reluctantly following her as she started toward the front door in an obvious bid to send me on my way. “You won’t be sorry.”
Wade-ing around. That was the phrase my sister always used to describe my style of taking too long to go after what I wanted.
I was done with that now. I knew in my gut this was the last chance I’d ever get with August Retta. I needed to take it before it, and she, disappeared on me. I needed to give both of us a chance to finally find out what we’d been missing all these years we’d spent dancing around each other.
I needed a plan.