When the Stars Come Out--A Cottonbloom Novel Page 10

  “Frame’s bent, but I think I’ll be able to salvage the engine.” Jackson checked the clock and glanced over his shoulder at the door.

  “We can take the truck and tow it home after work if you want.”

  “Yeah, that’d be great.”

  “I would’ve come picked you up. Who’d you get a ride home with?” Wyatt’s overly casual tone drew Jackson’s attention, but his brother’s face was blank.

  Dammit. He knew already. No use in avoiding the truth or outright lying. “Willa gave me a lift.”

  “You broke Don’s nose.”

  The drawback to living in a small town was everyone knew everyone else’s business. “Good.”

  A smile played through the surprise on Wyatt’s face. “I didn’t believe Randall at first, but all the boys at Rufus’s backed him up. He must have pissed you off something fierce.”

  “He did.” Jackson ignored Wyatt’s obvious curiosity and glanced at the clock. Willa was ten minutes late. She was never late. “Where the heck is Willa?”

  “She’ll be here.”

  “I’m not so sure.” Jackson put his hands on the raised hood and stared at the tangle of hoses as if he could divine the future, like reading the lines on someone’s palm. “I might have wrecked things with her too.”

  “What happened?” Wyatt sat on the edge and leaned back enough to make eye contact with Jackson.

  Wyatt was settled and happy with Sutton Mize, but it hadn’t been an easy trek for either of them. As hard as it was to believe, Wyatt might actually have acquired some wisdom he could share. Anyway, sooner or later, Wyatt would drill down to the truth.

  “I kissed her,” he whispered.

  “Punching Don. Kissing Willa. Not like you at all, bro.” Wyatt whistled and shook his head. “But about damn time, I’d say.”

  Jackson’s hands dropped to his sides. “Why do you say that?”

  “I’d bet my share of the garage on the fact Willa’s had a crush on you since day one. She never wants to work with either me or Mack. You two have some weird chemistry under the hood. Only a matter of time until it spilled over and exploded.”

  Jackson’s body tingled. “Except she ran off like I had suddenly developed a highly contagious case of the cooties.”

  Wyatt’s lips twitched, but settled into a thoughtful line. “What did she say?”

  “Told me to stop. Said she didn’t want me and ran.”

  “You didn’t go after her?”

  “I was confused and physically incapable of running.”

  “That good, huh?”

  Jackson never thought he’d be one to kiss and tell. “Amazing. Now, tell me what I did wrong.”

  “I’m assuming you’re not talking technique.” Wyatt snickered. “You didn’t shove your tongue down her throat, did you?”

  Jackson knuckle-punched Wyatt’s arm, but there was no anger in the move.

  Wyatt continued. “Let’s look at things from her point of view. She’s nurtured a crush on you for a while, and all of a sudden, you start to pay attention to her. She’s obviously desperate.”

  Wyatt brushed off Jackson’s knee-jerk “Hey.”

  “I mean she’s desperate for this job. She’s running from something or someone and doesn’t feel comfortable asking for help. I’ve gathered through basic chitchat that some of her previous jobs have involved scumbag bosses. Could be she got scared that you were taking advantage of her.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know, screw me or you’re fired. No matter how cute she thinks you are, that’s not a good position.”

  Wyatt’s conclusion was like a fist around his heart. The last thing he wanted was to add to whatever troubles Willa carried around. “I would never take advantage of her like that.” His voice came out on a croak.

  “From her perspective, if things go bad, who’s the one that will get fired? Not you.”

  Jackson rubbed his nape. His skin was ablaze while his insides felt frozen. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have touched her.”

  “Now, hold up, I didn’t say that.”

  “You’re confusing me. Spit it out in black-and-white.”

  “You need to decide what you want. If it’s a quick screw to satisfy your curiosity, then don’t be a selfish dick and leave her alone. If it’s something more, then make sure she understands it isn’t about the garage.”

  “It’s going to be complicated.”

  Wyatt’s smile was commiserating. Jackson hadn’t even needed to think about what he wanted. Whatever was happening between him and Willa definitely wasn’t a one-night thing.

  “Complicated is what we Abbotts seem to do best.”

  “I’m worried I’ve run her off.”

  “Then go—” The door creaked open. “There’s your girl.”

  His girl. Yep, that sounded good.

  Willa sidled in as if she were trying to blend into the cement wall. In her gray coveralls and with her ball cap pulled low, she was making a decent job of it. He let Wyatt’s assessment roll around in his head. Had she had a crush on him for two years? Had he been that blind? The answers were, he damn well hoped so and yes, he had been that blind.

  He had never considered getting serious with a woman. The loss of his mother had been an abstract but biting loss. The memories of her were so faint that he wasn’t sure what was real and what was imagined. But one indisputable fact was clear; he had been abandoned.

  Add to that the Abbott curse. None of the twins born throughout the generations had ever married. Jackson had assumed he and Wyatt would grow into grizzled bachelors together. In fact, he’d counted on it. But with Sutton and Wyatt getting more serious by the minute, that possibility faded and a new future hovered, indistinct and unsure yet tantalizing.

  “What are you going to do?” Wyatt asked.

  “Find a time to talk to her.” Talking was out of Jackson’s comfort zone, but he would try his best for her.

  Wyatt gave him a nod and returned to the truck that had come in over the weekend. While they worked on getting the restoration portion of their business built up, they took on regular mechanical jobs for the easy cash. Plus, many of their customers had been coming to Abbott’s since their pop had started the business. It was a community of family and friends.

  Willa didn’t look in Jackson’s direction, and instead approached Mack who was in the third bay with a Trans Am they’d been tasked to restore into a Smokey and the Bandit replica. Jackson tapped his fingers on the Crown Vic and tried to remember what his aunts had complained about this time around.

  He glanced toward the third bay. Gesturing at something under the hood, Willa stood shoulder to shoulder with Mack who had bent his head over to hear what she was saying. Jackson was jealous. Not because he was worried about Mack and Willa together, but for the simple fact she had picked Mack over him.

  Jackson wanted Willa by his side. He felt like he was missing a sock or a glove or the left ventricle of his heart because it seemed to be acting funny.

  The morning passed with Willa ignoring him. His worries amped up. Had she assumed he’d been using her? The passing minutes and hours tangled his tongue.

  Mack busted in a side door. “That mutt is back.”

  Willa dropped the air wrench, quickstepped over, and pushed past Mack. Jackson followed her.

  She dropped to her knees, ran her hands over River’s body, and muttered, “Silly dog. Are you okay?”

  River didn’t look injured but she did look exhausted. Her tongue lolled and her sides heaved. She was clean, and her ribs seemed less prominent. Without asking or being asked, he went to the barn and came back with two plastic bowls, one full of kibble, the other water. He’d bought more food. In the back of his mind it had been an excuse to drop by her trailer.

  “Thanks,” she mumbled, still refusing to look up at him.

  River drank until she hit bottom before moving to the kibble. Jackson, Wyatt, and Mack stood in a loose semicircle around Willa and River.

>   “You might as well start bringing the dog to work with you,” Mack said. “I’d hate to find out she was hit by a car trying to follow you.”

  Willa’s face was pale and her eyes huge under the brim of her cap. “That would be great. She won’t be a bother, I promise.”

  “She could become our official mascot,” Wyatt said brightly. “Actually … what if she becomes the official mascot of Abbott Brothers Garage and Restoration?”

  Jackson recognized the sudden zeal in Wyatt and shifted until the brothers were facing each other. “You got an idea?”

  “We could put her on T-shirts or mugs and hand them out at auctions. Good way for people to remember us.” Wyatt’s voice had turned contemplative. “People love dogs. Especially dogs with a story.”

  Jackson looked from Willa and the dog to Mack. “That’s a helluva good idea.”

  Mack ran a finger over his lips and stared at River. “She’s a unique-looking dog, I’ll say that. But this is up to Willa since she owns her. What do you think?”

  Willa stood, but avoided eye contact with Jackson. “Sure, why not.”

  “We’d pay you.” Jackson wasn’t sure where the words came from, but as soon as they were out, they felt right.

  Her gaze darted to his and then away. Not long enough for him to get a read on what emotions lurked beneath. Her usual boldness was muted, and instead of sarcasm, her voice was leery. “You paid her vet bill and bought her food. How about we call it even?”

  Wyatt clapped his hands once and rubbed them together. “Excellent. I’ll ask around and see who has experience creating logos. Sutton might know someone. Or maybe we can get a student up at Cottonbloom College to do it on the cheap.”

  Wyatt tugged Mack away and gave Jackson a pointed look. Jackson waited until they disappeared into the garage. River stood in front of Willa, never taking her gaze off Jackson. He had no doubt the dog would protect her against all comers—even him.

  The longer he let the implications of their kiss linger, the more awkward it would become. “Listen, about the other night—”

  “Forget about it.” She moved so quickly to get away that River barked.

  He followed. “Look, I’m not sure what you thought—”

  “I’m trying my best not to think about it. Trust me, it won’t happen again.” Willa pulled the door open with such force, it bounced on its hinges and nearly took his face off.

  River had slipped inside with her, leaving Jackson alone. He slapped the cement brick wall wishing he could kick his own ass. Her suggestion that they were now “even” only confirmed his fears.

  She was freaked out and thought he had been taking advantage of her position in the garage. Her last statement rang through his head. Trust me, it won’t happen again. He wasn’t sure he could live with that.

  * * *

  Willa kept her head down and made straight toward the third bay and her assignment for the day. With each step, the curses and admonishments became more colorful. She was the biggest idiot this side of the river. No, on both sides of the river, maybe even south of the Mason-Dixon Line.

  The heat in her face edged up to inferno levels. After their panty-disintegrating kiss, she’d spent all day Sunday battling embarrassment and disgust. She was the kind of heroine she cursed in books. Wishy-washy and full of mixed signals. She’d kissed him one minute and told him she didn’t want him the next.

  Problem was, this wasn’t a story with a guaranteed happy ending. She did want him, but eventually, he would find out the truth. Her fantasies would be transformed into nightmares. If they had sex, it would be on a bed of her lies.

  The melodramatic turn of her thoughts brought her back to earth and injected some much-needed humor, even if it was black. What would a bed of lies be made of? Porcupine quills? Or maybe old diapers because she was full of you-know-what.

  What had he been about to say before she cut him off? What had he assumed she thought about the kiss? Now she wished she’d been able to control her mouth and hear him out.

  She risked a glance across the garage. He was back, and as if he had supernatural powers, he turned and his gaze snared her. A new sort of tension coiled between them like a rubber band ready to snap.

  One thing was clear. There was no returning to the way things had been. Normal didn’t exist in her world and hadn’t for a long time, but she’d been safe. In a few weeks, the Abbotts would come asking for her Social Security number. The hourglass was running empty.

  “Good Lord, why don’t you and Jackson just do it already?” Wyatt’s voice spun her around. His expression was a combination of tease and serious inquiry.

  “How is it any of your business? Where’d Mack go? I was supposed to be working with him today.” Was there an internal setting past inferno, because that’s where she was headed fast. She pushed the brim of her cap up and dabbed a shop towel over her forehead.

  “Spreadsheets to stare at. Now, what’s going on?”

  “What did Jackson tell you?”

  “He didn’t have to tell me anything. He’s my twin brother.” He leaned over and jiggled a hose. “Broken clamp. Could you get me a new one?”

  Willa took longer than necessary to comb through a drawer filled with parts and return with a replacement. She handed it over, and he picked up the conversation. “Look, I know you’ve had a thing for him since day one.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, but the raised eyebrows he aimed in her direction transformed her outright lie into a qualification. “I admire his skills under the hood.”

  He cleared his throat, but humor still snaked into his voice. “I’m gonna assume that wasn’t a euphemism. By the way, that’s almost exactly what he says about you.”

  She shrugged. “Well, it’s true. I am a really great mechanic.”

  Wyatt’s big belly laugh made it impossible to be annoyed with him for long. If she’d had a lick of sense, she’d have crushed on Wyatt. He was nearly as good-looking as his twin, easier to be around, and way less complicated, but it had always been Jackson and always would be.

  “I love my brother, and you’ve become like a little sister. I want both of you to be happy, even better if that’s together. So what’s the problem?”

  “How long do you have?” She kept the sourness in her voice to a twist.

  “How long are you going to keep running?” Wyatt was bent over the car testing hoses, and she was thankful, sure that her expression would have given her away.

  “What do you mean?” Her lips felt rubbery.

  His sigh echoed against the metal. “We’d have your back.”

  “You can’t promise that because you don’t know.”

  He turned and half sat on the edge of the car, polishing a socket wrench, but looking at her from the corners of his eyes. “I know the person you are now. The kind that’s funny and nice and takes in stray dogs.”

  The last thing she could handle was any of the Abbotts, but especially Jackson, turning their backs on her. That’s why she’d always turned her back first.

  “Let it go, Wyatt. We have work to do.” She hadn’t had to use the hard, take-no-shit tone since she’d come to Cottonbloom, and it grated like squealing brakes.

  Even though she’d been firm with Wyatt, doubts assailed her when she was trying to sleep or drive or generally function like a normal human. Was she going to run the rest of her life? If so, what was the point of living? The questions haunted her over the next days.

  Another Thanksgiving without her dad came and went. Even though Marigold and Ms. Hazel had invited her for dinner at their respective houses, she’d declined both. Marigold already had enough going on with her sick husband to bother with hostess duties. And sitting across from Jackson surrounded by his family would only remind her of what she was losing. She had heated up a turkey-and-dressing frozen dinner and shared a can of cranberry sauce with River.

  * * *

  The unusually warm November had been kicked aside by a cold December. Willa took River out
the side door of the garage for a potty break and chafed her arms. The sun on her face was offset by a chill from the north. Even the thick coveralls couldn’t keep fingers of wind from creeping down her neck and up her sleeves.

  Her sleep of late had been rocky. The wind and cold seeped through the gaps around windows and doors of her trailer, but she was afraid to run her kerosene heater while she slept. Horror stories of fires or carbon monoxide poisoning made the rounds through the park every winter without fail.

  She propped her shoulder on the cement wall, tucked her chin into the collar of her coveralls, and closed her eyes.

  River’s chesty growl pulled her from a slight doze to full wakefulness in two seconds flat. A man stood not more than a dozen feet away, staring at her. If he was a customer, she needed to tell River to stand down immediately. She was supposed to be a mascot not a menace.

  Instinct rooted Willa to the spot. The man took two steps toward her. River’s growl increased in both fervor and level, the hair along her back standing up. The man stopped, looking from the dog to Willa and back again.

  The danger and threat in the man’s eyes and in the tight pull of his mouth was familiar, but she didn’t recognize him in particular. Instead, she recognized the type. Derrick had once seduced her with the excitement of danger. This man wasn’t here to get his car worked on. He was here for a shakedown.

  “What do you want?” She cursed the tremble in her voice. She’d once been able to bluff and bluster her way through confrontations like this one. That was when she’d had nothing to lose.

  “I want my money.” The man’s voice was rough but lilted with a Cajun accent.

  Her day of reckoning was here, and it was not at all like she’d imagined it. She’d expected Derrick himself would come to exact his pound of flesh and then some.

  “How much?” She took heart in having River close. No way would the man get close enough to touch her. Unless he had a gun. She shuffled sideways toward the door, but stopped herself. If he followed her, then Jackson or one of the boys could get hurt.

  “Forty thousand.”

  She nearly choked on a gulp of air. It was more than she’d imagined even in her worst-case scenarios. “Did Derrick send you?”