Tinkering with Love, page 17
He appreciated that they were always there for him.
Tully spilled. “I’ve fallen for her. Hard. Like to the point I’m envisioning her with child. My child. Hell, even Pops called me on it. And by the way, Mitchell, this is your fault because you have this ludicrous need to gossip.”
The man had no shame. Mitchell shrugged and drank his beer before belching. “What? You expect an apology? I have my finger on the pulse of this town and you both are good when I give you heads-up about things. So don’t act like this is new or an inconvenience now. Stop trying to change the subject and keep talking.”
Damn them for knowing him so well.
“She’s keeping something from me. Something huge. I want to fix it for her. Fix all of whatever is wrong for her.”
“Did you ask her?” Linc finished his slice and reached for another.
“I have. She brushes me off saying it’s not fun to talk about. There’s something there with her mother.” His lips turned down at the memory of her tensing up every time that phone showed it was her mother calling.
“I can relate,” Mitchell said, shoving his hand through his blond hair.
Yeah, he knew that. With Dawson, it was different: for Mitchell he would be there, for Dawson, he wanted to slay her dragons. “But there’s more. When we first met, well, after she found out my name, she was arctic.”
Both looked at him with eyebrows raised, Linc’s black gaze and Mitchell’s brown one waiting.
Tully sat forward, resting his arms on his legs as he dangled the bottle. He’d mentioned this at the cabin but no harm in going over it all again. “I don’t know, typically when people learn my name, they kiss up, cozy up, all of that. We all know how that goes. Hell, I don’t even think she knows who I used to be.” He shook his head. “Not true, I told her but she doesn’t care.”
“You’re still the same person, Tully. Just because you are retired doesn’t mean you’re not still you.” Linc stretched out. “All of us, we’ve retired from the sports we loved. But we’re still us. Older, wiser, richer, but still us.”
“I want to know why she hated me the moment she learned my name.”
His friends shared a look before pinning it on him. He knew what they were thinking. Gut sinking, he rested his chin in his palm.
“And if I ask her and we go back to her thinking she hates me?”
“Chances are you have more work to do, but at least you’ll know what you’re fighting against.” Mitchell reached for another beer and with a quick pop, removed the bottle top and took a long drink. “And we know, you’ll know what you’re fighting for.”
“I’m taking her out on a date,” he blurted.
“Does he sound nervous, Linc?”
“Why yes, yes he does, Mitchell.”
“Fuck you both,” Tully growled.
His friends laughed and something settled in him. His friends had his back and he wasn’t going to lose this opportunity with Dawson, even if it wasn’t for a few days yet.
“I want to know,” Linc said. “Has she said she liked you yet? Who wins the bet?”
He flipped him off. “No bet. I’ll pay for everyone, but I can’t take your money on that.”
Mitchell narrowed his eyes. “What makes you think you would win? We have the same chance. We can’t trust you to be honest about when she said it. And I’m talking about her liking you, not lying and saying she likes your dick.”
Hand on his chest, he lifted his eyebrows. “Were you lying when you said you liked my dick?”
Mitchell sniffed. “No, but I’ve grown up since then. And you’re no longer doing it for me.”
Tully snorted and drank more beer. If he could just figure out what it was about him that pissed her off so much from the start. They could get to a point where he would have the right to call her his girlfriend.
After his friends crashed, Tully wandered around his apartment.
He didn’t want to sleep alone. He wanted Dawson with him. Yes, the sex had been out of this world, but he wanted to fall asleep with her curves pressing into him and wake with her sprawled all over him, her soft hair brushing his skin as she burrowed closer to him, taking his heat.
He loved being her heater.
Their time together so far hadn’t been long enough for him. Not by a long shot. His sleep was restless, and he woke to the smell of breakfast. Bacon and coffee were close. He sat up and blinked.
Mitchell sat at the foot of his bed, holding a plate of food and a mug of coffee.
“I mean, my every fantasy come to life. I am going to need you to wear that little French maid outfit I bought, though, sugar lips.”
His friend’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. Sitting up, Tully scratched his chest, then reached for the coffee. Once that was half gone, he picked some bacon from the plate. “What’s going on, Mitchell?”
“Just my ex. I’m fine.”
He growled and bit into the bacon. “We need to have someone take care of her. Can we do that? Pay someone off to remove her from your life forever?”
“We know if she vanished, the authorities would be at your door and Linc’s first.”
“True.” He slid from bed, not caring he was naked, and padded to his bathroom. Turning on the shower, he drank a bit more coffee. “Give me five minutes and I’ll join you both. Unless you are coming in here.”
“I’ll pass, thanks. Showered enough with you in high school. I actually prefer showering with women.”
Mug on the bathroom counter, Tully stepped into his shower with a laugh. He preferred it as well. He kept to his timetable and was out and dressed in under five minutes. Still yawning, he carried the now empty mug in one hand.
The house was clean and he nodded in approval as he walked into the kitchen where his friends stood, talking in low voices.
“Morning, wives.”
They flipped him off as one. As they shared breakfast, they talked with Mitchell about his ex-wife. Or soon to be. Honestly, Tully wasn’t quite sure where all of that was currently.
They walked out together and his friends looked at him as he straddled his bike. “What?”
“Talk to her, Tully. We like her for you.” Linc unlocked his massive jacked-up truck.
His lips twitched. “I like her for me, too.”
“We want to get to know her better. Hurry up with your date and set one up for us to hang out. Do it fast or we’ll go to her.” Mitchell walked to his low-slung sports car.
Both of them were serious and he knew it. Part of them looking out for one another. Only one woman had slid past their approval and Mitchell was in the process of getting her out of his life. But she was like a damn barnacle. And not one he would ever wish on anyone.
They parted ways and he went to work, fighting the need to swing by to see Dawson. He couldn’t be that guy who suffocated his woman because he didn’t like having her out of his sight.
Could he?
No. No, he couldn’t.
He kept himself occupied with busywork just to make sure he didn’t turn into that guy. But damn, he wanted to. Wanted to hear her husky voice. Get some of her sassy snark. Even better would be a smile, one she just had for him.
Fuck.
He lowered his head to his desk. How the fuck was he going to get through all the full days until they had their date?
I should have insisted on having one right away. Being away from her was a killer.
Unable to resist, he pulled out his phone and sent her a text.
I miss you. Can we get together today? We can call it a manager’s meeting.
With a harsh exhale, he turned his phone over and pushed away from the desk. When he heard the chime of an incoming message, he flew back to the desk like he was on skates.
Oh, he couldn’t wait to teach this woman to ice skate.
He opened the message and snort-laughed.
Faust says no.
Attached was a photo of her strange, protective goat. He was currently chewing on a can, bits of the metal hanging from his mouth.
He sent a small pouty face in response, then picked up the phone, determined to get something done today. Didn’t mean he wouldn’t look at the photos on his phone of the two of them throughout the day.
More than once, most likely. They would have to do until he could see her again.
Chapter Seventeen
“Oh my God, I can’t believe you and Tully slept together. And yet, it makes perfect sense with the way you two were fighting the entire time.” Flora swiped some fries through the puddle of ketchup on her plate before pushing them into her mouth.
Dawson shrugged. The last day of team building had been difficult for her. She’d wanted nothing more than to be pressed against Tully. It had been hell being so close but not being able to touch him. But she refused to be taking over this new job and trying to figure out a new relationship with a man who ran the other side of the business. Not to mention, he was the one who’d taken it from her.
She still hated him for that.
Right?
“How is it any different than you and Elijah?” Ruby asked as she sipped her beer.
“This isn’t about me, Ruby, thank you very much. This is about Dawson.”
Swallowing her burger bite, she shook her head. “I’m fine with this being about you, Flora.”
Her friend glared at her. Maria hurried up to the table, face red and flustered. “Sorry I’m late. Hope I didn’t miss anything important.”
“Just talking about Tully fucking Dawson.” Flora popped more fries into her mouth. “They did it during the event. I recognized the wall of the room they were in at The Thrush & the Clover.” Flora sounded so damn smug.
“What? Damn Brian wanting to have sex before I come here. I miss all the gossip. You have to tell me more.”
The women laughed and Dawson was grateful they were in the back of the establishment. This small town was notorious for gossip and she didn’t need more of her private life floating around. The chipmunk incident had already spread like wildfire. And the fact she was now the proud owner of a weird goat that didn’t like anyone but her, apparently.
After enduring the good-natured teasing, she leaned back while they picked on Flora for a while. Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she pulled it out, frowning when she saw who was there.
“What’s going on?” Maria asked.
“Just my mother.” She struggled for a smile and failed. “I’ll call her later.”
They shared a look but let it go. Dawson was grateful but wasn’t fooled, it would be coming up again. And she was right. It did the following day when Maria was driving her out to Mr. Harrellssen’s.
“Thank you for doing this. I promise, I’m going to look for an actual car.”
She waved it off. “No problem. Besides, now you get to tell me about your mom.”
Tightening her fingers around the edge of her pie tin that held the pear crumb dessert she’d made for Mr. Harrellssen, she swallowed.
“I’m not letting this go. You’ve been tense anytime she calls, which is a lot.” Maria reached over and lightly grasped her wrist. “I’m not judging you, Dawson. I’m an ear and it seems like you could use one.”
She could, it was the truth.
“My mother lost custody of me when I was a baby. I grew up in foster care.”
“I’m sorry.”
She wriggled her toes inside her boots. “Life’s full of shit experiences. It is what it is and I can’t say it was all bad. The last foster home I was at the father was a mechanic. A motorcycle mechanic. He caught me out there one day, hiding and watching him work, so instead of yelling at me like he did the boys when they snooped, he let me help.”
Dawson smiled recalling Hinrik Sigurdsson. “He was a mountain of a man, had been in a motorcycle club but got out. Married a schoolteacher and they proceeded to be foster parents because they couldn’t have children of their own.”
“But they loved you.”
Tears pricked her eyes at the memory of that family. Her family. “They did and Hinrik was, well, he took care to make sure I could protect myself and that the boys would do so as well.”
“What happened to them?”
“They were killed in a house fire after I left for college. I came back to see what I could do to help out, then left again.” She flicked a few escapee tears away with her index finger. “My mother hired a private investigator and tracked me down about three years ago now, and we are just figuring it out with each other. She’s a drunk and a right bitch when it comes to me and my weight but she is my mother.” The real question was why she continued to try with a woman who seemed to thrive on putting her down. Other than it was her mother, she couldn’t explain it.
Dawson bit the inside of her cheek and took a stabilizing breath. “Turns out we were in the same city, San Francisco. She wanted to live together but I had to keep my space.” She bounced her shoulders, trying not to get lost in the vortex of emotions that surrounded her whenever she thought about or dealt with her mother. “I’m trying, but it’s hard to constantly deal with being put down.”
Maria clenched the wheel. “Doesn’t mean she’s not toxic to your life, Dawson. Mother or not, she should love and respect you, not tear you down.”
“I know all of that, logically, but”—she sighed—“I don’t know.” It was complicated. When she lost her foster parents, the Sigurdssons, there had been a gaping hole in her life that had been filled when her mother had first found her. And even she could admit that the first few months had been great, but then the snide and underhanded comments began. She wrote it off because her mother was a drunk, but now, it was just, too much and it wasn’t healthy. However, again, it was her mother and she wanted to try.
“I’m not going to pretend to know what you went through, because I don’t have the slightest idea. But,” she said, slowing down to turn into Mr. Harrellssen’s driveway, “I do know that you are an amazing, kickass woman. And if the man you grew up with showed you motorcycles, it makes sense why you are working so hard to be around them, but you need to tell the de Laroches.”
“No thanks. I already reached out once and fell on my face. I’m having a hard enough time reconciling that Tully has the job.”
“Not hard enough to keep from shagging him.” Maria waggled more than just her eyebrows. Hell, she was doing a full shimmy, making her white and lime green bow bounce.
Head down in shame—or was that embarrassment—Dawson tried to stifle her laugh. “You got me there.”
“You know, when we were growing up, I heard the rumors about him.”
“Rumors?”
“I have to know. How was he?”
Dawson undid her belt and opened the door before placing the pie on the floorboard. “That man is a machine and fucking fantastic.” Then she walked to the gate.
As before, when she stood there, she was taken aback by the beauty of this place. The older home sat back from the gate but her gaze drifted to the large barn off to the right of the house. Grass, tall and in dire need of cutting, made her think of ticks. The grass leading to the house was cut short and she could see the stone walkway up to the porch.
“Ain’t buying nothing and if you don’t get off my property, I’m gonna shoot you.”
“Mr. Harrellssen, it’s me, Dawson Shay. I was here a few days ago to get a sign.”
“I remember you.” He ambled into view, his slender body moving with an ease that belied his age. “Whatcha want now?”
“I came to return your sign and I brought you a pie.”
He scratched the tufts of white hair on his head. “Don’ tolt you I don’t like pie.”
“And I said I’d be back with one. You may as well step away because I’m returning the sign and giving you the pie. You refuse me that, I’ll sit here wailing.”
He glared at her. “You would, too.”
“In a heartbeat, Mr. Harrellssen.”
“You didn’t bring that jackass, did you?”
“No, sir. I have a friend, Maria, from town with me.”
She opened the gate and waved Maria forward to drive through. After she passed, she shut it and walked up the drive with Mr. Harrellssen.
“Why is she driving you? Don’t you know how to operate a car?”
“I operate one just fine. I have a motorcycle and I couldn’t bring a pie to you on that, so she was nice enough to bring me and the pie.”
“What do you know about motorcycles?”
“A lot. Come on, pie’s waiting.”
He was reed-thin and tall like Tully but without the bulk. Forcing her thoughts off that bearded hunk, she smiled as Maria stepped from the car. She held the pie in her hands.
“Hello Mr. Harrellssen.”
His blue eyes narrowed on Maria. “I know you. Used to hang out with those troublemakers.”
Dawson edged between them and took the pie from Maria and handed it to him. “Please try it before you break my heart and tell me how much you hate it. While you do that, Maria and I will be out returning the sign to the barn.”
“Fine, but I don’t like pie.”
“I know, Mr. Harrellssen. I know.” With Maria’s hand in hers, they opened the back of the SUV and pulled out the sign. “Let’s go,” she muttered to her friend.
Together they traipsed over the uneven ground and through the tall grass to the red barn that looked like it could use a few coats of paint. Almost there, but not quite, she stopped and really looked. The thought had hit her before, but now it was like a flashing neon sign. This place would be absolutely perfect for her dream.
“You okay, Dawson?”
“This is perfect. Absolutely perfect.” Her words were barely a whisper.
“What is? And for what?” Maria looped her arm through Dawson’s.
