On the Corner of Heartache and Hopeful--MIC (3 page)

She blew out a
sigh. “Well I do know that.”

They lapsed into
a companionable silence. He straightened with a sudden thought. “Have dinner
with me.”

Her soft brown
eyes widened. “What?”

“Have dinner
with me tomorrow night and we can reminisce about Nonie. I’d love to hear your
stories. Plus, it’ll give me the opportunity to further apologize for my
behavior today.”

She swatted the
air. “You don’t have to keep apologizing.”

“Then say you’ll
let me take you out to dinner.” He turned on his most charming smile. “Please.”

“Well,” she
hedged. “All right.”

“Awesome. What
time is good?”

“How about
six-thirty? That’ll give me a chance to get cleaned up after work.”

“Sounds good.
Should I pick you up here or at your place?” He stood then held his hand out to
help her stand as well.

“Here. It’s more
convenient.”

Mic walked
beside him to the door. He faced her and became tongue-tied at the vision she
presented. Her hair was indeed long, well past her waist, and it shimmered like
a cascade of slick, tawny brown rain. His fingers itched to thread through the
strands.

He stared into
her big, cocker spaniel eyes with their gold flecks, and tried to think of
something intelligent to say. “Well. Good night,” he said with forced ease.

“Good night,”
she repeated.

He gripped the
knob so tight, he thought the metal creaked as he opened the door. The evening
twilight had turned pitch black.

“Scott?”

He turned,
sucker punched once more by her innocent beauty. “Yes?”

“I wanted to say
thanks.” She lifted a shoulder and waved a hand at the row of chairs. “For, you
know.”

With a small
nod, he walked into the night.

“Boss, we’re gonna pack it in for
the night.”

Mic looked up
from her desk at Abe standing in her office doorway. “Did you get the heads out
of that Ford engine?”

He sighed.
“Finally. Seeing how late it is, figured we’d finish up getting them ready to
ship to Lincoln first thing in the morning.”

“Good idea.” She
glanced at the wall clock and cringed. Quarter past six. The overtime this week
was going to kill her, but it couldn’t be helped. She turned her attention back
to her paperwork. “Have a good night.”

“You, too. Oh,
and the boys wanted me to give you a message.”

She looked up
again.

Abe pursed his
lips and whistled a long, loud wolf whistle then his face creased with a huge
grin. Relief washed over her anxious nerves as she smiled back. At least some
men thought she looked attractive. She hoped Scott would too. “Tell them all
thanks.”

“Who’s your hot
date with tonight?”

“It’s not a hot
date. Just dinner.”

“Oh?”

The question
hung in the air. When she realized Abe wasn’t leaving, she heaved a sigh with
an irked look. “If you must know, it’s with Ester Trehune’s grandson.”

Abe’s eyebrows
almost touched his receding hairline. “The ass…I mean jerk from yesterday?”

“Yes. He came by
last night and apologized. Then he asked me to dinner.”

Abe frowned.
“You sure that’s a good idea?”

“Why wouldn’t it
be?”

“He was pretty
pissed off yesterday. You gonna be okay?”

“For heaven’s
sake, Abe. It’s just dinner. Besides he’s Ester’s grandson and not some
stranger I met online.”

“Still, you be
safe tonight.”

Mic rolled her
eyes. “Yes,
Dad
,” she mocked. “Now, go home. That’s an order.”

He gave a teasing
salute. “See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah,
tomorrow.”

Alone, Mic tried
to refocus on the ledger numbers, but they kept running together, much like her
thoughts since Scott’s visit last night. His wolfish smile when he’d asked her
dinner fuzzed her brain to the point where she couldn’t concentrate. It was the
same smile from high school, only then it was directed at the likes of Jaci
Turner. But last night, that smile had been for her, and her alone. After he
left, she came to an important decision, and for once the decision had nothing
to do with the garage or her employees. It was strictly about her, Michaela.

The echoing
knock on the garage door caused her pulse to rocket and a cold sweat to bubble
on her skin. She took a deep breath and, with as much calm as she could muster,
pushed away from the desk and stood. She smoothed the front of her sleeveless
peach dress then retrieved the matching jacket from the back of her chair.
Another knock sounded, a bit louder this time. Rusty nails harpooned her stomach.

Perhaps this was
all a colossal mistake. She wasn’t good at this dating thing, having rarely
indulged in the practice. Maybe she should just hide in her office until Scott
gave up and went away.

No
. Her
father had
not
raised a quitter. She was going through with this date,
with her decision. Period. She squared her shoulders and exited her office.

Her low heels
clicked in rhythm across the cement floor. Just as she reached the garage door,
there was a third knock. This one sounded like a fist banging on wood. She
inhaled one last breath for courage, pressed a hand to her insides to keep them
inside, then pulled open the door.

Scott’s handsome
expression, clouded with irritation, gave him the look of a predatory wolf. His
gaze took in her hair, long and loose, draped over her left shoulder so she
could work at her desk, then swept down her body.

Every inch of
her skin tingled, like the bubbles from a freshly poured soda pop. Her nipples
hardened as the apex of her legs hummed. At her shoes, his eyes made the return
journey, stopping at her hips, her breasts, once more her hair.

Under the
intense scrutiny, Mic tried not to squirm, but her stomach contracted to the
point where she wondered how she managed to stand still. To distract herself,
she took the time to appraise his appearance as well, finding nothing lacking.
The golden sweater emphasized his broad shoulders while the Dockers slacks
highlighted his slim hips. With his hair slightly wind-blown, he looked too
handsome for words. Even the fatigue lines around his mouth and eyes had
lessened.

When Scott met
her stare, she forced down the rock of nervousness. “Hi.”

“Yeah.” He shook
his head. “I mean, hi.”

This time his
eyes roamed her face and she worried that maybe she didn’t look as good as Abe
had made her feel. Her hopes for the evening crumbled at the possibility.
“Should we go?”

Scott snapped
upright, recovering with a wide smile. “Absolutely.”

He waited as she
locked the door then took her elbow and led her to a Kelly green sports car.
“Wow. A Porsche.” She slid onto the posh passenger seat. “This is a first for
me.”

“And me,” he
said. “With the short notice in getting to Tatum, I didn’t care what kind of
car Avis gave me so long as it had four tires, a steering wheel and went fast.
Think it’s too chilly to have the top down?”

“Not right now,
but maybe later.”

He started the
motor. It purred rich and full, like a tumbler of brandy.

“Is Gino’s still
in business?” he asked.

“Of course.”

He looked at
her, his smile wolf-like again. “Then let’s go. I’m starving.”

“Me, too.” She
hoped she sounded enthusiastic. The way her stomach rolled over itself, she
doubted food would stay down.

She settled into
the leather seat. Too late to turn back now, she told herself. The die was
cast, as her father used to say. She’d made her decision and, come hell or high
water, she would see it through to the end. However, as they drove the short
distance to the restaurant, she fretted about just what that end might be.

~
* ~

Scott kept glancing
at Mic, unable to accept that the knock-out beauty beside him—flashing a bit of
creamy leg—was an auto mechanic. And gay, at least according to Jaci.

He’d always
thought Mic was cute, attractive even, especially once he realized just how
long her hair was. The way it cascaded down her back had his blood heating and
his groin tightening. How would all those luscious strands feel draped over his
naked body?

He slapped his
brain. What the hell was he thinking? Mic could very well be playing for the other
team. And even if she was bi-sexual there was utterly
no way
he could
predict how this evening would turn out. He certainly did
not
wish to
make an ass out of himself for the second time in as many days by suggesting
something out of bounds. He rolled his shoulders, demanding they relax. The
best expectation for tonight was to not expect anything.

In the parking
lot of Gino’s, he paused to put up the top. Mic was right. By the time they
finished eating, the night air would have turned chilly. He opened the
passenger door and helped her out. Side by side, but not touching, they walked
into the only restaurant within fifty miles.

Scott scoffed to
himself.
One restaurant
. Near his Manhattan apartment there were at
least a dozen restaurants, from Italian to Chinese to Moroccan. Of course none
of them had the veal parmesan that Gino served.

For a Tuesday
night in Tatum, the bar bustled with activity, but the hostess showed them
straight to a quiet table by a window. The waitress followed on their heels.

“Can I get you
something from the bar?” she asked, setting down two water glasses.

Scott looked at
Mic. “Whatcha think?”

“I’d like a
glass of the house red, please.”

“And for you,
sir?”

“Bourbon and
water.”

The waitress
nodded and left. Scott opened his menu, but Mic didn’t. “Aren’t you going to
order dinner?”

“I always have
the pasta with marinara sauce.”

He frowned.
“Always?”

She nodded. “I’m
a vegetarian and that limits what I can eat.”

“Really?” His
stomach growled. He really wanted that veal parmesan. “Is it all right if I eat
meat?”

A tiny smile
touched her shiny, pink lips. “Of course.”

The waitress
appeared with their drinks. “Ready to order?”

“Can we have a
few more minutes?” Mic blurted out.

Scott’s eyes
widened. The waitress seemed equally surprised at the outburst as she
retreated, a worried look on her face. He swirled his drink while Mic took a
hefty swallow of the wine, like she needed to gird herself for something
unpleasant. She then fiddled with her napkin and silverware. He’d swear she was
nervous. But why? This was just dinner.

With a smile he
leaned forward in the hope of alleviating her distress. “What’s your favorite
story about Nonie? I remember—”

“Before we talk
about Ester, I have a favor to ask and I need your answer before we go any
further.”

Alarmed now, he
drew his eyebrows together with a quick nod.

Mic opened her
mouth, closed it, then downed almost half the wine in her glass. She pinned him
with those cocker spaniel eyes of hers and all the air left his lungs.

“I want you to
sleep with me.”

Chapter Five

Scott looked like he’d swallowed
a water balloon and the liquid was bulging out his eye sockets. Mic dropped her
gaze to her lap, her fragile self-esteem in tatters. Long moments passed as the
muted sounds of clicking glasses and murmured voices magnified to the point of
pain. Humiliation scalded her face.

When she
couldn’t take the silence any longer, she pushed from the table. “If you’ll
excuse me,” she muttered.

His hand
jettisoned out to snag hers. “Where are you going?”

She didn’t look
at him. “I think I should leave.”

“Why?”

The quiet word
almost shattered her razor-thin control. Tears burned. They presented quite the
spectacle to the other patrons with him gripping her wrist from across the
table. “Please,” she begged on a whisper. “Let go.”

“Only if you
promise not to bolt.”

After another
excruciating moment, she nodded and he released her hand. Mic tried to stop the
tears, but couldn’t. She dabbed her eyes with her napkin. The silence
brutalized her. Why had Scott insisted she stay if he wasn’t going to say
anything? She forced herself to meet his gaze.

He sat forward,
his hands clasped on the table, a confused expression on his face. When the
waitress returned, he glanced up, shook his head and she did an immediate about-face.
“Why do you want to sleep with me?”

Mic gave a tiny
shrug, hoping to seem nonchalant. “For the usual reasons. I’m sorry if my
proposal shocked or offended you.”

He smiled a
small heart-breaking smile and an infinitesimal amount of her humiliation dissipated.
“I don’t shock or offend that easily.”

“Oh.” She sat
straighter.
In for a penny
. “What’s your answer then?”

He smoothed the
wrinkles from the wrinkle-free tablecloth. “Well, I…uh…kinda thought…that is I
heard you were. . .a lesbian.”

Her eyes popped.
“What?”

“I mean I didn’t
know for sure, but, well…” He blew out a sigh. “I hate to say it, but when a
woman works like—”

“A man,” she
finished. “You assume she’s a lesbian.”

“Yeah,” he
sighed, leveling his eyes on her. “Sorry.”

“Don’t
apologize. So far, it’s gotten us nothing but trouble.”

He grinned at
her tease then signaled the waitress. “Ready to order?”

Mic shook her
head. “I couldn’t eat now. Food isn’t appealing.”

“Want to go
somewhere else?”

“No. I just want
to go home.”
And forget any of this night ever happened.

Scott pulled his
wallet out and handed several bills to the girl. “We’ve changed our mind about
dinner. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

By the look on
the waitress’ face as she took the money, she’d be this inconvenienced any
time. Scott stood and helped Mic to her feet. With his hand touching her lower
back, they walked outside.