Crank Page 7

“Yeah.”

  He bent over the Porsche badge on the hood, smiling to himself. “You restore this baby yourself?”

  “Yes.”

  “Man.” He carefully inched his way around, still looking. “I haven’t seen one of these in a long time. It’s sure something.”

  “Thank you.”

  He leapt down and I followed after replacing the tarp. His eyes were on the truck logo. “Your garage?”

  “Yup. Jack ‘Em Up in Baybridge.” I offered him my business card and he accepted it with a smile.

  “Well. From what I can tell, you’ve done a bang up job restoring her. Good luck today.”

  “Thanks.” I raked a hand across my head then cupped the back of my neck. “It was a lot of work and I still have a couple things to play with under the hood, but I’m real proud of her.”

  Another truck pulled in, hauling a covered car. He looked over when they honked. “Well, there’s my ride.” Glancing back at me, he pulled out his wallet and handed me a card. “Here’s my contact info. Gimme a call and let me know how she does today?”

  I stared down at his business card. “Uh, sure. Thanks.”

  “Anytime.” He spun and started walking away, then he stopped and looked at me again. “I’m serious, Blake. Gimme a call. I love talking shop with folks who love cars as much as I do.”

  I nodded and watched him go, shocked.

  Ten hours later, I was headed home with a blue ribbon, a couple of folks maybe looking to buy, a new restoration job for the shop, and a message from Trace that he’d found a kid named Trey looking for a job.

  All I needed to make my life perfect was my woman.

  Delilah

  I sat with a sigh in the chair across from Rachel’s desk and idly studied her office while she finished up a call. Several legal degrees and certificates hung on her walls, but so did a large, colorful modern art painting full of swirls and circles and random splotches. A mess of papers were piled on the corner of her mahogany desk next to her I heart History mug. Her big, leather chair squeaked when she finally turned toward me. She gently placed the phone back on the receiver after ending her call and tilted her head.

  “What? What’s wrong?”

  I held up the Walgreens bag.

  “What’s in there?” She stood and rounded to me, propping a hip against her desk.

  “EPT.” I glanced up, tears burning my eyes. “Two, actually. I feel like shit this morning. I think you’re right.”

  A big smile creased her cheeks. “Seriously?”

  I nodded.

  “Well . . . that would be good, right? If you’re pregnant?”

  “I don’t know.”

  She leaned down eye level, concern filling her face. “But you’ve always wanted a baby.”

  I bowed my head and crinkled the bag in my hand. “I know. But now . . . like this? I don’t know what I’ll do.”

  “What do you mean, what you’ll do? You’ll have a beautiful baby and be a rockin’ mom. That’s what you’ll do.”

  I let the tears that I’d been holding back come full force. “In all my dreams, I never imagined having a baby alone!”

  She frowned. “You’re not alone. You have me. Your sister. Blake. He may be acting like a jackass, but he loves you, hon. And he’ll be a great daddy.”

  Now I sobbed. I couldn’t speak. If I was pregnant, yes, Blake would do the right thing. But I didn’t want the right thing. I wanted his love.

  Rachel ran a hand down my hair, soothing me. “Have you taken a test yet?”

  I shook my head.

  “Well, then go pee on a stick.” She gripped my shoulders and urged me to stand. “Use my bathroom.” She pointed to the small door in the corner. “We’ll sort it all out once we know, okay?”

  Obediently, I shut myself into her tiny office bathroom, inhaling the rose scented potpourri and wishing I’d eaten something as my stomach roiled. But, desperate to know the truth, I gulped a quick cup of water from the sink and sat on the toilet trying to go. A minute later, a tiny bit came and though the test said it could take up to two minutes, the little blue plus sign started forming within seconds.

  I pressed a hand to my lips and watched as it turned an even brighter blue.

  We’d done it.

  Blake and I had made another baby.

  I wasn’t sure what to feel, I was so overcome with gut-wrenching emotion.

  A few minutes later, as I still sat staring at the results, Rachel knocked softly. “You okay in there?”

  “Yeah. I think so.”

  She peeked inside the door. “Can I come in?”

  I nodded.

  “So . . . ?”

  I showed her the positive strip. “I can hardly believe it. We weren’t even trying this time.”

  Rachel clasped my shoulder. “Believe it.” When I peered up at her, she smiled. “Congratulations.”

  I bit my lip and set the test down. Well, at least I had an answer.

  “So, what are you gonna do now?” she asked.

  If only I knew.

  I licked my wounds for a while in Rachel’s office until she had to leave for a lunch appointment. I drove straight to her apartment, downed a can of tomato soup, then took a two hour nap.

  I woke up feeling a little better, but still emotional.

  A baby?

  I placed a hand to my belly, wondering if I’d be able to take the loss of another. Morbid, I knew, but it came with the territory after getting my hopes up then crumbled three times before. What was so wrong with me that I didn’t deserve to be a mother?

  I stretched out on Rachel’s guest bed and picked up my cell phone from the nightstand. I turned it on and let it power up so I could call her and see if she wanted me to cook something for dinner.

  But a text message buzzed before I could dial.

  How’s my Princess?

  My heart slammed into my throat and I suddenly felt guilty, like I was hiding a secret from him.

  Fine, I texted back.

  His reply was immediate like he’d been waiting for me. They said you called in sick to work. R u really OK?

  I tapped the phone against my palm, thinking. I finally answered. Better now . . . but I need to c u. Dinner?

  Perfect! I was actually wanting 2 ask u 2 dinner

  Glancing at the clock, I mentally tallied how much time I’d need. Six?

  Whatever u want baby

  Where?

  A couple moments passed and I wondered if he’d changed his mind. The house? I’ll cook

  Blake? Cook? Uhhh . . .

  Fine I’ll order in. Marios?

  I agreed then stood to shower, wondering how this would go down.

  Shoving away my doubts, I stood on our porch at six o’clock promptly. Well, his porch now. I hesitated. Should I just go on in? Knock?

  Blake saved me from worrying too long when he swung the door open, a smile lighting his dark eyes. “Hey.”

  “Hi.”

  “You look nice,” he said as he let me in.

  “Thanks.” And he did, too. Freshly showered, water droplets clung to the cropped stubble of his hair, his beard was trimmed, and he was wearing his most perfect faded, ripped jeans and red T-shirt that made the tattoo of my name on his arm stand out all the more. He knew I loved that on him.

  He led me to the kitchen, where the heavenly scents of Italian food permeated the room. Marinara sauce, garlic, oregano. Perfection.

  A vase of white roses was on the table, which was already set with Blake’s mom’s china and an open bottle of red wine. I’d never seen him do anything like this. Shocking.

  “Sit,” he said, holding out my chair when I didn’t move closer. “I’ll get our dinner.”

  Not sure what else to do, I plopped in my chair and watched him. He moved around the kitchen like a pro and it seemed like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. My eyes caught on the crystal butterfly still dangling in the window over the sink. I loved that thing. Why did I leave it?

&nb
sp; “Hope you’re hungry,” he said, oblivious, setting down two steaming plates of spaghetti and meatballs.

  Nostalgia slammed into me. This was the first meal we had together on a date all those years ago in high school. Was that his intention? I glanced up into his face, but he wasn’t looking at me as he sprinkled Parmesan on his pasta.

  I dabbled with my dinner, taking a few bites, saying nothing.

  “Wine?” He lifted the bottle, prepared to pour.

  I held a hand over the rim of my glass. “No. Thank you.”

  His brows curled in confusion. “No?”

  I shook my head. “I’ll just get some water—”

  “I’ll get it.” He jumped up before I could think about moving and brought me back a large glass of ice water. “Here you go, baby.”

  I thanked him and took a big sip. I needed to spit out what I came to say or I never would. “Blake . . . I need to tell you something.”

  He frowned. “Is it about the divorce?”

  “Uh, no—”

  “Then it can wait.” He studied me. “Can’t it?”

  Well, when he put it that way . . . we theoretically had eight or nine months to talk about it. “I guess,” I whispered, picking up my water again.

  We finished our meal in silence then I followed him to the living room. He hesitated a moment before sitting next to me on the couch. “Thanks for coming, Dee.”

  I slid my gaze to him. “Thanks for dinner.”

  He squeezed his eyes shut and sucked in a pained breath. “God. Why is it so fucking awkward between us now?”

  My shoulders relaxed as I realized I’d been feeling the same thing. I shrugged. “Pending divorce?”

  He sliced me with an agonized stare. “Dee . . .”

  “I know,” I said. “Not tonight.”

  “Not ever, if you ask me,” he said, sliding closer and collecting me into his arms. “I miss you so much, baby. I’m not sure I can live without you.”

  Every cell in my body quaked. I could barely control my trembling as his words annihilated me. I just wanted to give in, come home, and pretend this had all been one long, torturous nightmare.

  But I couldn’t.

  And then he kissed me and I was suddenly that seventeen-year-old girl who’d fallen headlong in love with him. Our past didn’t matter. Our pain didn’t matter.

  He gripped my head, cradling me like a small child, as he made love to my mouth. It was as if he was letting his kisses do the begging for him. Overwrought, I clutched fiercely to his T-shirt, my nails biting into my palms through the fabric. I needed this; his security, his comfort, his love. I needed him.

  His hot fingers strayed under my shirt to my ribs and I sucked in a breath.

  “Damn, baby,” he whispered against my lips between kisses. “I’ve missed this. Missed you.”

  As much as my mind was fighting it, pleading with me to pull away and sever the ties, my heart was overriding it all and yanking me in his direction.

  I’d never stopped caring, never stopped loving him. In fact, I think I was more wrapped up in him than when we’d first met. And that was what was keeping me stuck.

  On a shaky intake of air, I drew back. “Blake . . .”

  He brushed some hair behind my ear, not saying a word, and not letting me go.

  I met his gaze, seeing only love and pain there. He nodded and released me as if he got it, brushing a hand down his face. “Did I tell you the Spyder won a blue ribbon in its first show?”

  The abrupt change of subject jarred me. “No. When?”

  “This weekend. In Austin.” He paused, a smile tilting one side of his mouth. “I met Spark McGraw, too.”

  “Oh.” I knew how he admired Spark . . . and how much that car meant to him. Hell, it’d taken a bulk of his time, along with the shop, these past years. “Wow. Congratulations.”

  His fingers tangled with mine on the couch cushion, but he didn’t seem to have any motive other than . . . well, it was automatic. We always held hands. “Thanks. I think I might have some potential buyers interested, too.”

  “That’s great, hon . . .” I bit the inside of my cheek at my slip. “Blake.”

  He smiled as if he caught my mistake. “I’m hoping things will ease up once I sell the car and hire some more help, so I can be home more. With you.”

  “Blake—”

  “No. Stop pushing me away. That stupid divorce isn’t set in stone, and I’m not throwing in the towel. You’re my wife, Delilah, and I love you. I’m not giving up . . . you might be, but I refuse.”

  I opened my mouth to reply, to tell him about the baby, but he held a finger to my lips. “Not another word.” He pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Let’s just let this settle for a bit, then we can talk again, okay?”

  I glanced up into his eyes, which were painted with hope and fear in equal measure. I nodded reluctantly. “Okay.”

  I stood to go and he followed me to the door. As I shrugged into my jacket, he stood quietly. I faced him to thank him again for dinner, but his head was bowed, obvious emotion rippling through him. I opened the door and a gust of cool air rushed in. He snapped his head up. “Friday night?”

  I tilted my head.

  “We can do whatever you want. I’ll take you out. A movie. Whatever. Just say yes.”

  My heart pounded, yearning for him. It was even harder leaving tonight than ever. But I gathered all my false bravado and nodded. “Yes.”

  Blake

  The shop was a fucking zoo.

  Word had obviously gotten around about the Spyder since Austin. The phone was ringing off the hook and a dozen or so more people stopped by just to look at it with one guy supposedly getting his bank funds together to make me a pretty hefty offer. But, if the Jag he was already cruising in and his gold and diamond studded watch were any indication, the seven figures I was asking wouldn’t be a problem for him.

  And all that’s not to mention the regular work we had, which also seemed to be growing exponentially.

  I was counting my lucky stars Trace had found that Trey kid, who cleaned up, answered the phones, ran errands . . . was our general minimum wage bitch.

  “Hey, Trey,” I called, popping my head out from under the hood of Mrs. Pierce’s Chrysler.

  “Yo,” he answered, freezing as he headed toward the office, broom in hand.

  I held up the corroded water pump. “I need you to order me another one of these and if it’s in, go grab it pronto. Mrs. Pierce needs her car back today if possible.”

  He nodded, shooting off the year of the Chrysler and brand of pump, making sure he had it right.

  While I waited, I nosed under her hood at the rest of her engine, checking for any other issues. From the open bay door, a snap of cold air from an early December cold front whipped in, bringing with it the faint scent of the ocean. As my brain went idle, Delilah crowded my every thought. The way she’d melted in my arms. How her sweet breath had whispered across my lips when I’d kissed her last night. The hurt still reflected back in her eyes.

  But, God, she’d felt good, cuddled up to me like a luscious, curvy teddy bear. It was like I held Heaven—precious and perfect, but just out of my reach.

  I had to get her to trust me again. Because I knew she loved me.

  I couldn’t wait until Friday . . .

  After lunch, Trey brought in the new water pump and watched as I put it in. The kid was like a car sponge. He absorbed everything we’d teach him, eager and interested. He reminded me a little of myself at his age. A bit rough around the edges, a hint of anger in his eyes. He lived in the neighboring trailer park from where I’d grown up. Probably had the same shit to deal with.

  “So, what’re you gonna do with the Spyder?” he asked as I aligned a screw.

  I didn’t glance up. “Sell it, hopefully.”

  “It’s worth a lot, huh?”

  I looked up into his eyes. “Yeah.”

  He didn’t get a chance to say anything else.

  “What th
e hell is going on around here?” a familiar voice boomed out, laced with humor.

  I froze then snapped around, shocked. Well fuck me sideways.

  “Who the hell is this jailbird in our shop?” Trace busted out, him and Micah wearing matching surprised grins.

  I made my way over to Jesse and clasped his hand for a one-armed hug, not sure what to make of seeing my best friend in the flesh and not behind a Plexiglas visitation window. “Dude. What’s up? I thought you were scheduled for a parole hearing . . . you didn’t bust out, did ya?”

  “Nah,” Jesse said as he greeted Micah and Trace. “My hearing was a week and a half ago. I was good to go and blew that joint this morning.”

  “And you came straight here?” Trace asked, his eyes dancing with merriment.

  Jesse shrugged. “Yeah. The bus came in early and Mom’s expecting me in a couple hours, so I headed over to see my bros.” His eyes took in every detail of the shop. “You’ve got a great place here.”

  My heart broke a little that he’d never seen it, hadn’t been there when I opened it, achieving my dream. He’d missed so much. And for nothing. I nodded, unable to speak.

  He laughed and chucked my shoulder. “I’m here now,” he said, as if reading my thoughts.

  “Sure are,” Micah agreed. “Just wish we would’ve known about your hearing. Leta didn’t say when it was.”

  “No big deal,” Jesse blew it off, his expression growing serious at the mention of his little sister. The one he’d gone to jail for protecting.

  It got deathly quiet.

  Trey took the opportunity to saunter over and introduce himself. “Hey. I’m Trey.”

  “He’s the shop helper extraordinaire,” Trace explained.

  They shook hands, and eventually, Trey excused himself to run another errand. Another awkward silence descended.

  Jesse exhaled a loud sigh. “So, in case you hadn’t heard, prison food sucks ass. You guys gonna buy me lunch, or what?”

  Trace clasped him around the shoulders. “Hell, yeah, buddy.”

  “Dairy Queen?” I offered with a smile.

  Jesse laughed.

  “Nothing but the best for the jailbird,” Micah said as we headed out into the cold.