Fighting to Forgive (Fighting Series) (10 page)

He fires up the engine and pulls onto the main road. The stereo is playing AFI’s “Silver and Cold”, and I’m singing along in my head.

“AFI and Metallica?” he says, and gives me a quick peek before turning his eyes back to the road.

“Um… what?” The mention of Metallica brings back our conversation from last night, and how easily we fell into a light-hearted debate about the metal band. And the ease in which I forgot my place and let down my guard.

He points to his stereo. “You like AFI.”

I swing my gaze out the window, hoping to avoid another conversation that might end like last night’s. “Oh, I don’t really—”

“You were humming.”

My shoulders tense to my ears.
I was freakin’ humming?
Not the best way to show my apathy. “They’re okay.”

“Mom listens to AFI when she cleans. She has at least four of their CDs.”
Thank you for the outing, Elle.

The rest of the car ride is silent. Blake never talks about music again and stares straight ahead. I watch him out of the corner of my eye. He’s leaning back, one arm stretched out to the steering wheel, the other cocked, resting outside the open window. His large, muscular thighs are open and relaxed, filling out his jeans to perfection.

That’s the type of thing I told myself I’d stop noticing about him.
And yet…

The effort it takes to try to come up with a list of Blake’s unattractive qualities takes a lot of concentration, and suddenly we’re parking in the lot of an auto body shop. “Guy’s Garage” is painted in blue letters outside the industrial-style building.

We all climb down from his car and follow him into the multi-car garage.

That’s when I see her. A young woman, probably not much older than Elle, comes from around the front end of a truck. Her dark hair is piled high on her head, messy but somehow put together. Her long, slender frame is covered in blue work overalls, which are unzipped at the top to reveal a bright yellow shirt. That’s got to be baby girl.

“Wow,” Elle whispers from over my shoulder.

My jaw falls open when I notice the color of her eyes, a unique mix of blue and green like I’ve never seen. A pale scar slices through one of her eyebrows. Where most scars would hinder a person’s beauty, this one only enhances her unique look. She’s the type of girl I’d picture Blake with. Young, and girl-crush gorgeous.

“Baby girl.” Blake leans in and whispers something in her ear.

Whatever it is has her giggling. Probably all manner of inappropriate.

My chest tightens with something that feels like—but absolutely cannot be—jealousy.

“Layla and Axelle, this is my friend, Raven.”

Friend, yeah right. Fuck-buddy’s more like it.

The gorgeous girl steps around and holds out her hand.

I grab it and shake. “Nice to meet you, Raven.”

“You too, Layla. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

My eyes skate to Blake and then back to her. “Really?”

“Sure.” She smiles warmly.

Hmm, that’s strange.
I didn’t know talking about your boss’s new assistant was popular pillow talk.

I listen, or act like I’m listening, as Blake fills Raven in on my situation.

“…they’ll need a loaner until you get their truck running.” He finishes with a shrug and a grin.

“No, please.” My cheeks burn. Paying for the repairs will take all our money, so there’s no way I can afford a rental car. But I don’t want his help, and I really don’t want his girlfriend to get pissed that he’s negotiating deals for me. “I couldn’t ask for that. Just the repair on the truck will be fine.”

“Mouse, you need a car. You need to get to work and Axelle to school. Repairs could take days.” He looks at Raven. “Am I right?”

“Of course,” she says, her bright eyes warm with generosity. “Blake wants you to have a loaner, so we’ll get you one. No charge.”

Charming girls out of more than their panties, I add free car rentals to the list.

As much as I could use the help, it feels dirty to accept. “Blake, it’s sweet that you want to help, but I’m not comfortable—”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s just a car rental,” he says with a flat tone of annoyance.

“No, it’s more than that.” I try to communicate with my eyes that I don’t want anything from his girlfriend, or naked playmate—whoever she is.

“It’s not.” He presses his lips together in a tight line.

I throw my shoulders back and look him in the eye. “It is. I said no thank you.” Lifting my eyebrows, I give a tiny nod, hoping he gets that I’m trying to save him from an uncomfortable situation with his baby girlfriend.

His face is blank. He studies my expression. I widen my eyes and smile. His eyes narrow.
Ugh. Men suck at non-verbal communication.

I drop my head back in defeat and fight the urge to throw my hands up and scream. “Raven, your um, Blake, is a nice guy, but I can’t accept—”

“Come on.” He grabs hold of my hand and drags me across the lot.

Two distinct giggles come from Elle and Raven, and I look over my shoulder to see them smiling.
What in the hell’s so funny?

He walks me around to the back of his Jeep so that we’re hidden from onlookers.

“Let me go.” When I yank against his hold, he grips me tighter. “Blake, seriously. This is nuts.”

“We need to talk.” He lets go of my arm. Taking me by my shoulders, he positions me so that my butt settles against his rear bumper. With one firm flick, his sunglasses are off. He hooks them on the neck of his blue t-shirt then crosses his arms at his chest. “Cut the shit.”

“Shit?”

“At the training center you were all apologies and fuckin’ cute as hell. We get here, and you start throwin’ up walls. Just like last night.” He takes a step closer. “So tell me, Mouse. What the fuck?”

“I’m not throwing up walls. I can’t afford—”

“Nu-uh. No. You do not make this shit about money. Last night you went whack-job on me, and that had nothing to do with money.”

I drop my gaze and study my feet. Last night it was Mac, and now Raven. I can’t explain why the thought of him with different women pisses me off. Mainly because I can’t figure it out myself. Men were not part of the plan after I left. Especially not men like Blake Daniels.

“I don’t know.” It’s a stupid reply, but it’s the truth. I stare at his shoulder, not wanting to get sidetracked by his eyes.

“You don’t know.”

Quiet tension festers between us. He runs his hand over his short-cropped hair to the back of his neck.

“Blake, I can’t afford a rental.”

“You won’t be payin’.” His clipped tone of frustration reignites my anger.

I may not have the answers to why the thought of him sleeping with the beautiful mechanic has me pissed, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m
pissed
.

“I know that, Blake. Trust me. I know
exactly
how she’ll take payment.”

Two steps and he’s in my face. The heat from his car presses into my back.

“What
the fuck
is your problem?”

“
My
problem? You’re the one who uses your dick like a credit card.”

He stares me down, his emerald eyes digging deep. “What did he do to you?”

I suck in a ragged breath.

“Can’t be much older than thirty, got a sixteen-year-old daughter. Alone in a new town. No man around to fix your car.” His words are spoken in soft whispers, like he’s talking to himself. “You’re always on guard, like the next guy might destroy you with a look.”

My chest heaves as I scramble for air. His eyes search mine, and I’m unable to speak while locked in his gaze.

“Shadows. I can see ’em dancing in there.” His expression is pinched with what looks like concern. “Shit, Mouse. What’d he do?”

He lays his palm on his Jeep beside my head and leans in, his tall body curving over mine. I don’t answer, afraid my voice might break, or I’ll show a weakness I can’t afford to expose.

I told myself I’d stay away from guys like Blake. It’s because of my fascination with the wrong type of guy that I ended up a teenage mother. Not that I’d change what happened that night. Everything that happened after, yes. But not that night.

That night brought me Axelle. And her, I’ll never regret.

Blake

I’m so close to her perfect pink lips. A slight shift of my body weight and my mouth would be on hers. A small gust of wind carries the vanilla scent of her skin, and calls to my senses. My dick is achingly hard, pressing to get closer to her. And with most girls, I do just that. But not this one.

She has responsibilities. The life of another human being depends on her. And then there’s her past. A failed marriage doesn’t leave a woman without scars. I’m not a guy who listens to women’s problems and cuddles them until they feel better. I don’t promise to right another dude’s wrongs. And this is no exception.

There’s no denying this chick does something to me. Her strength and attitude call to me on a physical level. And there are moments when she forgets to reinforce her tough-girl exterior and leaves herself exposed. Fuck if those glimpses don’t make me want to possess her and become the man she needs.

Her pupils dilate against the near-black color of her eyes. She’s not oblivious to the energy that’s whipping up between us. At this distance, and without the barrier of her glasses, I can make out a girlish sprinkling of freckles across her nose that defies the stubborn set of her shoulders. Her mouth parts, either to say something or accommodate her breathing. My heart races. If I could lean in, have one taste.

I lick my lips. Her eyes flare.
Fucking hot.

“Mouse.” My voice sounds gravelly with hunger.

The reasons I don’t hook up with women who have kids fade to the background, giving control to my desire. The rise and fall of her chest, flushed cheeks, and wide eyes transform the mountain of my issues into an anthill.

She lifts her hand tentatively, holding her palm inches from my chest. Her eyes ask the question.
Please, fuck yes, touch me.
She places her hand against my pec. The warmth from her feminine touch sears my skin, and I fight the urge to plunder her mouth—to hell with the fallout.

“Blake…” My name slides from her lips. “You don’t want to do this.”

The fuck I don’t.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but in this moment, I’ve never wanted a girl more. My blood feels jagged as it rips through my veins. Muscles tense beneath my skin, itching with restlessness to touch her. I lock down the urge to flex my hips into her and show her exactly what she does to me.

“Last night, what you said? You were right, I’m broken.” Her fingers dig in and grab hold of my shirt. “You’d only hurt me.”

I take a deep breath, and close my eyes. As much as I want this girl naked, I can’t allow myself the selfish gratification. She’s a mother, and as far as I can tell all that her daughter has. Fucking her up will have lasting consequences even an asshole like me can’t live with.

I step back to clear my head. Her hand falls to her side, and I immediately miss her touch. The distance is little help, but it’s enough that her scent weakens, allowing me to think logically again.

I’ll help her, this one time, and that should be enough to satisfy my erratic thoughts. My instincts will always push me to protect a weak woman. And there’s nothing weaker in the world than a woman alone with a kid. That’s all this is. My history influences my behavior. I’ve beaten back this shit for the past twelve years. I can do it again. After today.

“Let me do this for you.” I scrub my hand over my hair, trying to think of a way to convince her that doesn’t involve my mouth all over her body. What I wouldn’t do to torture her with pleasure until she submits.
No, help her and move the fuck on.
I groan and pinch the bridge of my nose. “You need the help. Let me give it to you.”

She searches my face, and I hope she doesn’t see anything that betrays me. After a few seconds, she nods. “Sure, okay. That’d be great.”

A slow grin tugs at my lips. “Really?”

She shrugs with a timid smile. “I told myself when I moved out here that I’d never rely on a man again. So just this once, okay?” She picks at her nails. “I’ve got to figure out a way to make it on my own. It’s important to me.” Her voice trails off to a whisper.

I want to reach out and pull her into my arms, but I know I won’t be able to stop there. And whatever I’m feeling, I have to fight. There’s so much more on the line than hurt feelings between two adults.

“If I can’t… I…” She curls into herself. “I can’t go back.” Her murmured words catch me off guard.

“Why not?” Shit. I broke my number-one rule with women.
Don’t invest.
Chanting the two words in my head like a mantra doesn’t keep me from imagining what may have happened to her and Axelle. Heat boils in my chest.

Worry and fear etch into her pretty face. “He’ll make me—”

“Mom!”

Fuck.

Axelle swings around to the back of the Jeep. “The truck’s here. Some dude named Leo towed it in. Oh, and you’re going to shit when you see our loaner car.” She’s clearly excited, hopping and clapping her hands.

“Elle. Stop cussing,” Layla says.

Axelle laughs, dismissing her mom’s reprimand. “Oh lighten up.”

A strange feeling, like a mix of irritation and possession, floods my veins at the blatant disrespect Axelle shows her mom. I can’t get involved any more than I already have. But I’m suddenly worried for Layla and her daughter’s relationship. This family needs a man in it. A good man. Hell, a decent man would be better than no man. And a kid needs a dad.

My dad’s face, twisted with fury and spitting ugly, comes rushing to the surface. I shake away the image before it solidifies. The reality check is enough to bring me back to my cardinal rule. I’m not investing.

For my safety. And for theirs.

“Let’s get a move on. I gotta get back to training.”

I head back to the garage, not waiting for them to catch up. Jonah’s there with his girl beneath his arm. I hear Layla’s sharp intake of breath from behind me.
Oh, now she gets it.