Monday morning, Jackson kept his eye on the door, waiting for Willa to make an appearance. If she didn’t show in the next five minutes, he was going to hunt her down and make her talk to him.
He’d spent fruitless, frustrating hours replaying their kiss. As kisses went, it had knocked his world into a new trajectory. One that seemed to be spinning faster. He wasn’t sure what the kiss or what her running had meant.
He should have followed her. He muttered a curse. His body had been at war with his mind and his doubts had won.
Jackson stared at the hunk of metal under the hood of his aunts’ Crown Victoria. He normally tried to avoid working on their car, not because he didn’t love his aunts Hyacinth and Hazel, but the car posed no challenge. They brought it in on a regular basis for fluid changes or to report nonexistent noises under the hood.
It was a thin ploy to keep tabs on all the brothers. The aunts had stepped in after their mother ran off when Jackson and Wyatt were still in diapers. Since Ford had up and vanished a few weeks earlier, the aunts had been in more often.
Wyatt strolled over, cleaning a socket wrench with a blue shop towel. “Why didn’t you tell me you wrecked Saturday night? I had to hear it from Randall.”
“I forgot.”
“You forgot that for the first time ever you screwed up on the track?” The sarcasm was thicker than the air on a July day.
Why hadn’t he mentioned it? Embarrassment, but also the knowledge that Wyatt wouldn’t be able to let it go.
“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?”
The man’s mouth opened and closed before he finally said, “I don’t know who the fuck Derrick is. I was told his brothers would cough up the money.”
She attempted to channel the rush of kneecap-dissolving relief into logic. Think. She needed to think.
Jackson rounded the corner of the garage and stopped short, his gaze pinging between her and the man. “What’s going on?” His naturally rough voice had the power to intimidate even without the thunderous expression on his face.
“I’m here for my money.” The man shifted toward Jackson, but kept a keen eye on River.
Jackson put himself between Willa and the man. United in their common goal of protecting her, River moved to his side, her growl never wavering.
“And who are you?” Jackson asked.
“You one of Ford’s brothers?”
“What’s this got to do with Ford?”
“He’s gotten himself into a pickle. A forty-K pickle.”
A few beats of silence passed. “Gambling?”
The man nodded once. “Betting on games. Football. Basketball. You name it. Now he owes me.”
“Where is he?”
“I’m his bookie, not his babysitter.”
“Did Ford send you here to collect?”
“Not exactly, but certain people told me you’d cover his debts or…” The man’s smile was like an arctic breeze down her spine.
Willa had never considered Ford part of the garage. He flitted in and out between his trips to auctions and car shows to drum up business, too highfalutin’ to get his hands dirty. He was the only brother with a college degree and lorded the fact over his brothers. But he was still an Abbott.
Jackson turned his head enough so she could see his profile. “You all right?”
Her insides were still jockeying for their textbook positions and the scare had shifted something fundamental inside of her, yet her words came out almost chirpy sounding. “I’m fine.”
“Let’s talk inside.” It was obvious by his tone Jackson had turned his attention back to the bookie.
Jackson stepped closer to the man. River crouched and added a cutting bark to her growl. Willa called the dog back to her as Jackson led the man around to the front and into the garage. She stayed outside, crouched beside River, her face buried in fur.
When she’d thought the man had been sent by Derrick or the drug dealers he had worked for, one thought rose above all others. She hadn’t wanted to run away. She’d wanted to stay and fight.
Tears brought on by the collision of past and present and relief trickled into River’s fur. A rough tongue flicked against her cheek and Willa laughed. River had been ready to protect her at all costs. Was Wyatt right? Could she count on Jackson and the Abbotts to do the same? Was it even fair to ask it of them?
She sidled in the door, half expecting to see a fight in progress, but the garage floor was empty and only muffled voices snuck out of the waiting room.
She returned to the Trans Am, although she gave up after five minutes of staring at the closed door of the waiting room. The crunch of gravel signaled an arrival. She wasn’t the one who usually greeted customers, but she was loath to interrupt whatever was happening behind closed doors. She checked out the window. It was Sutton Mize.
Sutton stepped into the garage. Her preppy pink and gray diamond-patterned sweater, crisp gray slacks, and high heels made Willa feel even more unkempt than usual. She adjusted her ball cap.
Pushing her sunglasses to the top of her head, Sutton swept her gaze around the garage and picked her way around parts and tools toward Willa. “What are the boys up to?”
Normally, Willa would keep her mouth shut, but Sutton would know everything soon enough. She and Wyatt shared their secrets.
“Man showed up wanting money to cover Ford’s gambling debts. They’re all hashing things out in the waiting room.”
Sutton performed a literal pearl clutch. “Oh no. I wondered if he might be in trouble. Last time I saw him he looked stressed. Have you noticed?”
Willa shrugged. “He hasn’t been by the garage in weeks.”
“I’m worried.”
“For who?” Willa asked.
“For everyone.” Sutton’s tone was darker and more serious than her sunny disposition hinted at. “Changes are coming.”
Willa’s breath stalled in her chest. Sutton was right, Willa could feel the changes lurking outside their door. The question was whether they were sharp-toothed wolves or warm fuzzy sheep. Her experience was of the wolf variety.
“Do you think they’ll pay the man off?”
“How much was it?”
“Forty K.”
“Goodness. Poor Ford.” Sutton fiddled with her strand of pearls and stared at the closed door for a moment before turning her attention back to Willa, a slight smile curling her lips.
The silence stretched to the point of uncomfortableness. Why was Sutton still here?
“What are you doing New Year’s Eve?” Sutton finally asked, her perfectly plucked eyebrows rising.
“I don’t know.”
“My parents are throwing a party.”
Willa made a throaty sound of fake encouragement, not good at this kind of small talk.
“I want to officially extend an invitation.”
Willa was nonplussed. While she and Sutton were on superficial speaking terms, they didn’t qualify as anything resembling friends. At least not how she remembered friendship.
“I’m going to be … busy that night.”
Willa almost said working, which would have been laughable considering the garage would be closed, and Sutton knew it.
“Doing what?”
Reading was a lame excuse, although the truth. A string of nonsensical ums and ahs emerged from her brain.
“So, that’s settled, you’re coming.” Sutton’s grin was so easy and infectious Willa had a hard time nurturing even a nugget of resentment about the manipulation.
“Seriously, I can’t. I don’t have anything nice to wear.” It hurt to admit as much, but she guessed that Sutton’s party would be nothing like a high-school kegger or the parties her ex had thrown. No jeans and T-shirts allowed.
Sutton cocked her head, her smile turning calculating. “I’d love to make you a dress.”
“Why?” Willa curled in on herself and fiddled with the hair poking out of her hat. Meeting kindness with suspicion was a natural response not even her two years in Cottonbloom had been able to shake.
“Because you must be tired of coveralls. And selfishly, designing makes me happy. You’ll be doing me a favor.”
Wyatt had bragged that Sutton’s skill with a sewing machine was as impressive as his skill under the hood of a car.
“I’m not really a dress person.” Actually, it had been so long since Willa had worn one she wasn’t sure anymore. She’d used to love to wear pretty dresses to church. And later she enjoyed the attention she received from the male sex in her short skirts. A shame only slightly dulled by the years rose.
“I’ll make sure you’re comfortable and look good.”
“Don’t waste your time on me.” Willa’s voice invited no argument. “Speaking of wasting time, I need to get back to work.”
“Sorry to be a distraction.” Sutton walked away, but said over her shoulder, “The offer stands if you change your mind.”
“I won’t,” Willa muttered to herself and meant it.
Sutton planted herself in Mack’s office to wait. The meeting broke up less than five minutes later. The bookie came out of the waiting room first. He turned and held a hand out for a shake, but Mack ignored the gesture.
Willa was too far away to hear what passed between them, but the visual of the three brothers lined up, Mack in the middle, and facing the smaller man, was arresting. The bookie took several steps backward, keeping his eyes on the brothers, before he turned and hightailed it out the door. A wise move.
The brothers gathered in a semicircle. Willa sidled close enough to hear, but not close enough to be noticed. Sutton was attempting the same in the doorway of the office.
“Ford’s been MIA for weeks. Anyone have an idea how we can find him?” Mack asked. He’d grown out his winter beard, dark and wiry, and with his tall, broad frame he reminded Willa of a bear. The anger and agitation radiating from him brought to mind the old saying, don’t poke a sleeping bear. Mack was awake and ready to take someone’s head off.
Wyatt’s attention was focused on scuffing his boot along a groove in the floor. “He might be at our mother’s.”
The beat of silence was like the last tick before a bomb exploded. An impressive string of curses left Mack before he gritted his teeth and scrubbed a hand over his beard. “You know where she is?”
“I don’t, but Aunt Hazel does.” Wyatt shot a look toward Jackson. “And I think Jackson should be the one to track Ford down.”
Willa sucked in a breath and tried to get a read on Jackson. Nothing but a twitching muscle in his jaw changed his expression, but she could sense his tension and shock.
“No way is that happening,” Jackson said almost too quietly to hear from her vantage point. “You do it. You’re the one who’s all gung ho to find her and make nice.”
“What in hell is going on?” Mack threw his hands up.
Wyatt made a noise between resignation and frustration and looked to the ceiling. “A couple of months ago, Aunt Hazel told me she could pass our mother’s info along. I can’t deny that I’ve considered contacting her, but if we call and Ford’s there, he’ll run. If I show up and Ford’s there, I’d bust his pretty face in. You’d probably maim him, Mack. Jackson’s the only one who could pull this off.”
Jackson backed away, shaking his head. “Hell, no. Get someone else. Send Hazel if you have to.”
“While I would enjoy seeing Hazel try to put Ford over her knee, it has to be one of us,” Wyatt said.
“Make it anyone but me.” Jackson turned his back on them and slammed the door on his way out back.
Willa took a step toward where he disappeared, but stopped herself. The last thing she needed at this point was to entangle herself further in his life.