It had been days since the bookie’s visit. Mack and Jackson had been quieter than usual, which meant they’d been close to silent. Perhaps because Wyatt had been the one to drop the bomb about their mother, he seemed the least shell-shocked.
“Hey, Willa, Aunt Hazel is bringing the Crown Vic in again. You mind looking under the hood and jiggling some hoses?” Wyatt winked in her direction, his hands occupied with dashboard wiring.
“Sure. No problem.” She kept one eye out for Hazel’s arrival and one eye on Jackson. She’d been assigned to work with Wyatt on the Trans Am every day that week. Was it the natural work flow or deliberate avoidance on Jackson’s part? She spent half her time wanting to pretend the kiss never happened and the other mad because he was pretending the kiss never happened.
For the umpteenth time, she relived the kiss, second by second. For her, it had been amazing and scary and eye-opening. But maybe the kiss had been run-of-the-mill for a normal person. There was no one she could ask.
A familiar engine knock cleared her mental fog and brought her out from under the Trans Am. Jackson inched her Honda into the first bay. She dropped the socket wrench and stalked over, catching him by the arm as he slipped out of her car.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Her voice came out high-pitched and echoed off the concrete. She tried to push him aside to reach the driver’s seat, but he blocked her and wrapped his hand around her wrist.
“I’m replacing your clutch.”
“No you’re not.”
“I am.” His face was stony. “Get back to work.”
She sucked in a breath. He’d never used that tone with her before. They’d always been closer to partners than boss-employee. “Is that an order?”
Emotion flared in him like a match thrown onto gasoline, but the evenness of his voice doused it. “I bought a clutch last week.”
“Return it.” She didn’t break eye contact.
“Let me do this for you.” His voice was softer now.
“You’ve done enough already. I’ve almost got enough saved to—”
“Use that money on something else. Like tires.”
Dammit. She did need new tires. “But—”
“Willa.” The way he said her name was full of frustration, but also something sweeter she couldn’t identify. Although his grip on her wrist was firm, his thumb rubbing slow circles on her pulse point was soft. The tremble started somewhere in her chest but spread outward until she was sure he could feel it too.
She couldn’t put words to what passed between them in those moments, but it filled her with a heat that wasn’t embarrassment or anger or even resentment. Those were easy emotions. Childish even. What both bound and repelled them was more complicated.
“Let me go,” she whispered.
He did. She turned away to hide her confusion, rubbing her wrist, not because he’d hurt her, but because she could still feel his touch like a brand. Wyatt whistled. Her attention flew to the window in time to see the Abbott aunts’ Crown Victoria stop with a jerk across the front of the bay doors.
Okay, she had to keep it together. Her knees somehow supported her weight. She wiped her still trembling hands on a shop towel, adjusted her hat, and went outside.
Hazel slipped out of the passenger door with a natural grace while Hyacinth unfolded her tall, lanky frame from behind the steering wheel.
“Hiya there, young lady,” Hyacinth said.
“Hello, Ms. Hy. The bays are full and the boys are inside working. They sent me out to take a look. Is the weird noise under the hood back?” If Hyacinth noticed Willa’s voice was strained and close to breaking, she didn’t comment.
Hyacinth had a loud, unladylike laugh and easy way about her that Wyatt had inherited. “It’s not like that’s the only reason we bring the old girl in.” Some of the bravado went out of her stance, and she examined her fingernails. “The weird noise is in the back end. Underneath. I might have hit something.”
Willa took a deep breath, regaining some control now she was out of Jackson’s orbit, but the sooner she was alone the better. “I’ll do a thorough check. Promise.”
“Thanks.” Hyacinth made her way to the door, the fabric of her track suit swishing.
Hazel lingered.
“A fresh pot of coffee is brewing,” Willa said, hoping Hazel would leave her alone.
No matter how polite and nice Hazel was, she intimidated the tar out of Willa. Something in her stare seemed to flay open any secrets, no matter how well hidden.
“I’m not the coffee addict my sister is.”
When that was all she said, Willa squatted down to inspect the muffler. There was a chance they weren’t playing possum this time. “Any idea what she hit?”
“I don’t think she hit anything. This time, at least.”
“You didn’t hear the noise?”
Hazel’s sardonic look ended the game.
To say she’d done it, Willa reached underneath and wiggled the exhaust, protecting her hand with the towel. It didn’t move. She stood up and tucked the towel in her back pocket. “I guess everything is fine, then.” The pitch of her voice made it sound more like a question than a statement.
“I suppose you’re jealous of Sutton Mize.” Hazel’s head tilted and her gaze was like the first cut of a knife, sharp and digging.
The unexpected question sent her reeling. There were many reasons she could be jealous of Sutton. She was pretty by anyone’s standards and always dressed like she’d stepped out of a magazine. Based on Wyatt’s asides to Jackson, she was also funny and good in bed. And the invitation to her family’s New Year’s Eve Party only solidified the fact she was nice too. The whole package.
“Because of her clothes?” Willa tugged on her shapeless coveralls.
“No, because she’s with Wyatt.” Hazel’s eyes narrowed.
“Why would that bother me?”
“I was under the impression you and Wyatt are close. And he is charming and very good-looking.”
The matter-of-fact way she said it made Willa bow up. “Not as good-looking as Jackson.”
Hazel’s smile reminded her of River right after Willa had given in and shared her dinner the night before—self-satisfied. The old lady had played her like a mandolin. “I find your opinion very interesting indeed.”
“Why do you care what I think?”
“Because I care about what my nephews care about.” Hazel blinked, her eyes magnified behind her glasses. She and Jackson shared more than eye color. The same depth of feeling and intelligence hid behind an outward show of cool regard.
The implication gave Willa pause. “Nothing can happen.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s complicated and … and … none of your business.” Willa clamped her mouth shut. She was being unbelievably rude to a woman who could drop a word in Mack’s ear and probably have her fired.
“Of course it’s none of my business, but cut me a break. I’m old and nosy and love those boys like they’re my own. I worry about them and Jackson most of all.”
“Why Jackson?”
“Because he’s too like his father. Tends to wall himself off when things go bad. Since Hobart died, he’s been looking too much inward. I noticed things had changed recently and wondered if you had something to do with it.”
Willa opened and closed her mouth, at a loss for a response.
“Goodness, I’m getting chilly. I think I will warm up with a cup of coffee.” Hazel shuffled toward the door.
Willa caught the door handle before Hazel could open it, their hands overlapping. “Wait. A good change or bad?”
“Most definitely good.”
Her heart fired off a flare. “How can you be sure it’s because of me?”
“I’m an old spinster, but can I give you some advice?”
Willa felt a little like she’d crossed into an alternate universe. Besides Marigold, she wasn’t used to other women taking an interest in her. And now in a matter of days both Sutton and Hazel were reaching out like she was almost part of a real family again. She nodded.
“Tell him how you feel.”
“I can’t.” She croaked out the words through a dry, tight throat.
“I don’t know what brought you to Cottonbloom, but my guess is your life hasn’t been easy and you have a difficult time trusting people. Am I right?”
“Maybe?” Her questioning lilt broadcast the truth behind the word.
“You can trust Jackson. In fact, I’d go so far as to say you could trust all the Abbotts. Me included.”
Willa wanted to throw her arms around the woman. Would she smell like cold cream and lotion, things she associated with her own grandmother? Instead of acting on the foolish urge, she dropped her hand from the door and stepped back.
Hazel’s final glance was one Willa recognized and hated even if it was tinged with kindness. Pity.
She cracked the door and called for River. The dog shot out and danced around her legs. Willa scooped up a stick on their way to the magnolia tree for a few rounds of fetch. River’s simple joy in the game despite her less-than-kind past was a comfort.
Over the past few days Willa had gone from inconspicuous to exposed, and it wasn’t a comfortable place to be. Everyone from Wyatt to Sutton to Hazel to Jackson were examining her. Like a scab picked off a wound, a rawness had been uncovered and she wasn’t sure if it would heal or fester.
* * *
Hazel sidled closer to where Jackson was working, holding two cups of steaming coffee. “Coffee break?”
If it had been Aunt Hy, he would expect small talk and gossip, but he and Hazel were too similar to play those sorts of games. He wrapped a hand around the mug and sipped. “Did Wyatt send you over to talk about our mother and Ford?”
“No. But if you’re looking for my opinion, I think you should go. Might be healthy for you boys to reconnect with her.”
“We’re grown. Don’t need a mama.” Jackson eyed her under his lashes. “We have you and Aunt Hy for that.”
Hazel’s smile was affectionate but wistful. “Always.” She sipped her coffee and studied him.
“Was there something the matter with the car?” Reading Hazel was like trying to decipher a different language. He might recognize a word here or there, but the context made little sense.
“I expect not.” She took another sip and swept her gaze over the garage. “It’s brighter in here. Cleaner. You boys have done a good job transforming the place. I don’t know why Hobart was hesitant to take a chance on restorations.”
“Mack deserves the credit.” The garage did look more prosperous and professional since Mack had effectively taken charge. “Pop was waiting and hoping Ford would come around.”
“Hobart could be blind.” Hazel’s gaze cut to him over the rim of her cup. “Do you take after him?”
“What do you mean?”
“Willa is still outside. Alone. Maybe you should check on her.” Hazel didn’t smile or wink or offer any hints.
He peeled off his mechanic’s gloves and slapped them against his palm, his gaze down. “Am I that obvious?”
“You’ll be waiting forever if you wait for her to come to you. She’s unsure of herself, but not of you.”
“Did she say something?” Suddenly he wanted to pump his aunt for as much intel as she could provide on Willa.
“Go ask her yourself.”
“Maybe I will,” he said with more confidence than he could muster inside. An apology had been brewing since their disastrous kiss, but Aunt Hazel had tempered his guilt with a drop of hope.
He went out the front door, but she wasn’t with the Crown Vic. A happy bark turned his attention to the magnolia tree. She bent over to give River’s head a rub, then tossed a stick end over end. The dog jumped to try to catch it midair, but missed. River’s happiness didn’t seem diminished by her failure.
River noticed him first, veering toward him with the stick in her mouth. She dropped it at his feet, and he threw it farther than Willa’s toss. She stood framed by the glossy green leaves of the giant magnolia.
The tree had been his favorite place as a kid. In the summer it was covered in blooms as big as his hand and the scent called forth bittersweet memories. He’d climb up into its lower branches when he needed to escape his family and think. Being a twin meant never being lonely, but sometimes he craved solitude. Wyatt had never seemed to need the same.
He stuffed his hands into his pockets and took a deep breath. “Aunt Hazel said that you—”
“She told you? I mean, it’s true, but none of her business.” She gestured with her hand over him like a model selling a high-end car. “It has nothing to do with you and me or what happened or didn’t happen or … whatever.”
Her eyes darted from side to side in a panicky way, and he was pretty sure her cheeks hadn’t been that red when he’d walked up. He grabbed the nearest branch of the magnolia, his emotional balance disturbed.
“I’m not following. Were you and Aunt Hazel talking about me?”
She closed her eyes and muttered a few choice words before staring somewhere in the vicinity of his neck. “She didn’t tell you anything, did she?”
“Only that I should get my head out of my ass and come talk to you.”
Her laugh eased the tension. Damn, he’d missed her laugh. It had been days since he’d heard it ring out in the garage.
“I cannot imagine Ms. Hazel cursing. Ms. Hyacinth, maybe. Did lightning strike?”
“I might be paraphrasing slightly, but that was the gist.” River returned, but when it became clear the game was over, she settled at their feet and chewed on the end of the stick. Seeking a moment to gather his thoughts, he leaned over to give the dog a pat, then straightened, forcing himself to look in Willa’s eyes. “You should know something. I kissed you because I wanted to. And, I hope you kissed me back for the same reason and not because you felt obliged to.”
“Obliged to?” The genuine confusion on her face gave him the courage to continue despite the fact his stomach was using his heart as a punching bag.
“Because you work here and I’m part owner. I’m not that kind of guy. If you think what we did was a mistake and don’t ever want me to talk to you again, then I’ll make sure we’re assigned to different projects for now until … forever. But I hope that’s not what you want.” He swallowed, trying to even out his voice. “Because it’s not what I want.”
During his halting speech, her expression changed to something he wasn’t able to read. He waited, mental preparations under way for soul-crushing rejection.
Which is why he was wholly unprepared for her to pop up on her toes and mash her lips against his. He blinked, her face blurry. She pulled his bottom lip between her teeth and bit down hard enough to prod him into action.
He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off the ground with a chesty rumble. River barked and nipped at his ankles.
“Tell her you want this. Want me.” He wasn’t sure if he or River needed assuring more.
She pulled away and addressed the dog in a breathy voice. “River. Stop. It’s fine.” She looked back at Jackson. “I want this.”
“Not because I’m your boss?”
Her half smile was teasing in the sexiest way possible. “You’ll never be the boss of me, Jackson Abbott.”
Screw the ribbing he would receive from his brothers and the disapproving looks from his aunts, he was going full-on caveman and dragging her back to the loft to finish what they’d started.
A whistle sounded from the side door. Willa shot out of his arms and squatted down next to River. Wyatt made a come-on gesture with two fingers, his customary smile nowhere in sight.
“We’re not done.” Jackson shuffled backward toward the shop door, keeping his eyes on her.
“We’re not?” Her face was hidden in River’s ruff, and her noncommittal tone sent him veering into confusion. Again. Why couldn’t women come with an instruction manual like a car?
“Don’t leave today without seeing me.”
She raised her face to fix him with a stare that did not settle his nerves. “That sounds like an order from my boss. Is it?”
A big part of him wanted to say yes. Anything to get her alone and talking to him. “It’s a request from a friend.”
She stood, but her guard was up, the soft look in her eyes gone. “Didn’t Mack tell you? I already set up to leave early today. And I’m taking tomorrow off.”
“Why?” When one corner of her mouth pulled back and her eyes narrowed, he tempered his voice. “Anything I can help with?”
“Nope. I’m doing a favor for Marigold. Can you get my car done in time?”
The fact he couldn’t decipher truth from lie scared him. She only offered brief glimpses behind her brick-and-mortared wall. The rest of the time he was in the dark stumbling around searching for a way through. She slammed the door on him once more.
“It’ll be done in two hours, but I’m not going to let this go.”
“Fine.” There was defiance but also a challenge in the word.
He retreated, conceding the skirmish, but not willing to surrender the battle.