Into the Nothing (Broken Outlaw Series Book 1) (9 page)

Ethan leaves soon after his Smirnoff Ice is finished with a hug for Paige and a cold shoulder for me. We spend an hour or so more at the bar watching ESPN, talking sports and dropping a few more shots. After Brandi gets off work, Paige and I settle in the back of her Honda Civic.

By the time the engine starts, she and I are already leaning together in a drunken heap, eyes closed and borderline passed out. I can hear Brandi huffing in the front seat, complaining about having to drive or something like that. I don’t really care though. Right now, the smell of Paige’s hair has my drunken senses in overdrive. Her soft hair falls onto my chest, her head resting against my shoulder. I prop my head against hers, and with each bump, my chin brushes against her forehead. Each time, she giggles and swats at her face before nuzzling back in.

The ride could’ve lasted forever and it would’ve been alright with me. Unfortunately, it doesn’t. I feel the car come to a stop and open my eyes. Paige does too. Before we can shake the sleepiness off, Brandi has one leg already out the door.

“I’ll see you in your room, Paige. Hurry your ass up. I’m tired.” Her look of annoyance passes from Paige to me, but then it softens a bit. “I’ll see you in the morning, Xander.”

She slams the car door and makes her way into the house. Paige’s eyes follow her all the way to the door, then she slowly turns to me, a look of confusion on her face. Out of nowhere, she bursts into laughter, holding two hands to her mouth. I start laughing too—the drunken kind of laugh brought on by just about anything…and everything. Paige puts a hand to my chest, trying to catch her breath. She squeezes and it sends sensations to places they shouldn’t go. She squeezes my chest again.

“Jesus, how often do you work out? Like every day?”

“I try to. I actually was going to ask you where I can go around here.”

“The Truman Valley Community Complex is your only option. Seriously though, these pecs.”

“Yours aren’t so bad either.” I give her the cheesiest wink in the entire world. I can feel it.
How fucking corny am I?

She removes her hand, but she still has a smile stretched from ear to ear. “Xander Evans, I want to know you.”

“You already know more than most… and it’s only been two days,” I say. It’s the truth, after all.

“I wanna know more.”

“Why?”
Fuck, I really don’t even care why. I want to know more about this girl too.

“I don’t know.” She slips her bottom lip into her mouth, nervously darting her eyes around the driveway.

“You have to have a valid reason before I share anything.” I smile my biggest smile, trying my best to keep her right where she is, but as she yawns, I know our night is coming to an end.

Paige opens her door and gets out, and I reluctantly follow. She comes around to my side, just a foot in front of me, and pokes a finger into the same pec she was squeezing just moments ago.

“I don’t need a reason. You, sir, will tell me because I’m adorable and because I asked nicely.” She blows me a kiss, and turning on her heel, she makes her way to the house. I can’t help but watch her as she walks away, her beautiful ass firm and teasing me from beneath short jean shorts. I wish she’d turn around, no matter the trouble it would inevitably cause.

She doesn’t.

I stagger to the guesthouse, and as I reach the top of the steps, I stop in my tracks. A rustling in the vineyard draws my focus. Shaded by the darkness, it looks as if there’s a figure among the rows of grapevines, the moon reflecting off what could be eyes…maybe glasses?

Hell, I’m drunk off my ass. I rub a stiff palm across each eye and look again.

Nothing…
Damn Fireball
.

I
manage to avoid Paige for the better part of the week. I get the feeling she’s avoiding me too. We both know nothing good can come of this. I would never disrespect this man in his own home, and I wouldn’t ruin the good thing I have here—or the good money I’m making, for that matter.

But damn. When I’m around her, she’s got every last bit of my attention.

I guess it helps that Jack keeps me in the vineyard most of the day. It’s not terribly difficult work, but they are some long hours under the sun. I enjoy his company though. He can bullshit with the best of them, and if there’s one thing you learn to appreciate in a man after hanging out with military guys, it’s a good bullshitter.

He pours a bottle of water over his head, holding out another for me.

“No, I’m fine, Jack.”

“I think I’m just getting old,” he says, grunting loudly and tossing the water bottle into a wheelbarrow.

“Pretty sure you’ve been old for quite some time.” I keep my face as straight as I can, but it’s moments from cracking. He takes the sweat soaked rag from around his neck and flings it directly at my head. I dodge it easily and pick it up, preparing my own throw.

“Dude, you even throw like an old man!” I toss it at him lightly, and it falls to his feet.

“Don’t let the diminishing arm speed fool you, kid. I still got old man strength, which means I can still kick your ass.” He sticks a forefinger into my chest and brushes past me, laughing his ass off.

“I’m not so sure that whole old man strength thing is real, Jack. The science just doesn’t add up.” He laughs heartily again, making his way toward the house. Before he enters, he turns back around. “C’mon in for a second. I need you to run an errand for me.”

I follow him inside, where he grabs his wallet from the counter and pulls out two twenties.

“The ladies have made their demands. Can you stop over at Whittaker’s”—he grabs a small piece of paper from the counter and hands it to me—“and pick up some lunch? I guess they’re tied up.”

“No problem at all.” I take the cash from him and start out the door.

“Grab something for yourself too. I don’t need any change.”

I look back, a slanted smile on my face.

“Who said you were getting any change back?” I wink at him and he laughs, brushing me off with his hand.

“Get the fuck outta here, you turd.”

“Turd? You’re really showing your age there, old man. Nobody says turd anymore.”

Watson Metalworks takes up an entire block in downtown Truman Valley. The huge welded metal sign sets itself drastically apart from the rest of Main Street in a way that draws the eye almost immediately. Large windows cover the entire face of the building, and inside I can see it’s broken up into two sections: a display room with different metal sculptures lining shelves on the walls and in display cases scattered throughout the room. In the other, larger room, I can see Teresa busy at work on a sculpture. It looks like a dragon, or maybe a bird, I can’t quite tell.

I open the front door and enter the display area. A delicate tone sounds as the door swings shut behind me. Almost immediately, Paige’s head pops around the corner. Her eyes go wide when she sees the greasy bag in my hand.

“Yesssssss!” she says. “Meatball sub!”

She walks around the corner, the Watson Metalworks polo delicately clinging to her beautiful curves. I laugh as she skips toward me and snatches the bag from my hands.

“Took you long enough, stranger. Hmmph!” She turns, swinging her hair enough to whip me in the face with it, and she prances to the studio

I follow close behind, almost as if I’m on a leash.
Shame on you, Xander.

“Xander!” Teresa calls as she sees me. “I was about to send out a search party.”

“Sorry, ma’am, Brandi’s working.” Both Teresa and Paige look at each other, knowing full well what I mean.

“Oh well, then I’m shocked you made it at all!” She grabs the bag from Paige and digs out her Caesar salad in a hurry. “And didn’t I talk to you about calling me ‘ma’am’ already?”

“No, ma’am, I don’t believe you did.” I crack a smile.

“Well, it’s Teresa from now on, you got it? We’re gonna break you of that eventually.” She squints her eyes, attempting to look tough.

“Yes, ma’am.” This time it’s completely out of habit, but they burst out laughing anyway.

“You’re a mischievous one!” Teresa starts to dig into her salad, and I notice Paige is already halfway through her meatball sub. She hasn’t even bothered sitting down.

“Did you get anything for yourself?” Teresa asks.

“Yeah, but I was starving so I ate my burger while Brandi talked my ear off.”

I take a seat while inspecting the different projects in front of me. “So what are you guys working on?”

“Well, the real question is, what are we
not
working on?” Teresa says. Her eyes scan the dozen or so metal sculptures scattered on the table, eventually landing on the one right in front of her. “At some point this is going to be Falkor from the—”

“No way!” I cut her off without thinking. “
The NeverEnding Story
. I love that movie.”

“Me too!” Paige is wide-eyed, presumably excited I’ve seen the movie too. “I tell her every day that I’m stealing this thing before it ever gets to a customer. That, or she’s making one for me after this.”

“I don’t think I ever want to attempt this again. Absolutely the hardest project I’ve ever done, and I regret ever agreeing to do it.”

“Well, I’m blown away by the ingenuity it would take to do something like this.”

Teresa turns red, looking to Paige and then back to me. “Can I keep you?” she says, and Paige giggles.

“That can be arranged,” I say with a smile. “So how did you even get started with this?”

“Well, my daddy was a welder. About the only good memory I have with him was learning the trade.” Teresa spoke so freely, without altering her tone or expression. I respect a person’s ability to be so open. It makes me want to be open too.

“He never did this kind of welding, just your usual stuff. Once I got out of art school, I sculpted—mostly with clay—and then I kind of got the idea to combine the skills. It took a long time to get it all figured out, but once I did, it sort of became an obsession.”

“No kidding,” Paige says, rolling her eyes.

“Hey, you didn’t mind when this obsession paid for your college degree,” Teresa says, nudging her daughter playfully with her hand.

“Oh, I know, Mama. I’m just yanking your chain.”