Repaired Page 5

  Sorry. Car took longer than I thought. Grab some coffee later?

  Not waiting for his response, I put my phone back on the nightstand and figured I might as well get started on my day. Needing to make arrangements for a ride to work, I skipped my usual morning run. Rather than calling my own father, who lived no more than ten minutes away, I opted for a local car service. Knowing that a pile of work was waiting for me in the office only made me move quicker. Add in the fact that I had my car to deal with, after only being awake for all of five minutes, I already felt like I was running late.

  After a hurried shower, I wrapped a towel around my waist and stood before my closet. The pile of dry cleaning greeting me was a sharp reminder I’d fallen behind on that task. Well, since it was a Friday, and I wasn’t meeting with any clients, casual would be good enough. Besides, I was locking myself in my office all day to sort out the last of the Maxwell briefs anyway. No one would even see me. Chuckling to myself, I knew that even if someone did have something to say, since I was the boss’s son, no one would.

  Well, except the boss.

  Settling on a pair of khakis and a black polo shirt, I finished getting ready. By the time I was pouring my coffee into my to-go mug, the black sedan from the car service was pulling into my driveway.

  Having already given my destination to the dispatcher when I made the call, I didn’t even have to speak to the driver as he held my door open.

  Sliding into the leather bench seat, I pulled out my phone and decided to get a head start on some of the less important emails. That was when Zan’s response finally came through.

  Lunch? At the deli by your office? Noon?

  Scratching my head, I didn’t want to deal with how he even knew about the deli by my office. Had I even told him where I worked? Pushing aside those feelings, I punched out a quick response, letting him know I’d be there. Honestly, I had too much to deal with today to bother with Zan right now. I’d just have to set him straight—so to speak—over lunch. At least I could give him my time and see how his father was doing.

  By the time we arrived at the office, I’d made my way through the more menial messages and I was ready to get down to the real task at hand today—working on the files for my latest case. It was never lost on me that my father was New York’s most successful divorce attorney.

  Breaking families apart seemed to be his specialty. It was in our case, anyway. He’d worked so long at his career he often forgot about my mother and me. She never cared too much, though. The money was more than enough compensation for her. And since said money also allowed her the luxury of a full-time nanny for me, she lived a fairly unencumbered life.

  Finishing off the last sip of my coffee, I settled into my chair to review the Maxwell case. These would be my highest profile clients to date. When my father handed me their divorce, it was safe to say it took me the rest of the day to pick my jaw up from the floor. Though there was part of me that knew deep down he was only assigning me the case to see if I’d fail, the young man who’d always looked up to his father as a god, was holding out hope there was a different reason.

  The soon to be former Mrs. Maxwell was suing her husband, media mogul Harvey Maxwell, for sole custody of their two young children. That seemed reasonable enough considering his rather public affair with an up-and-coming singer half his age was the reason for their split. The rather unreasonable item in question was the million dollars a month child support demand.

  “How on earth could someone need that much money every month for two kids?” Grumbling to myself, I flipped through the rest of her demands, not at all shocked at the over-the-top nature of them all.

  But my job wasn’t to cast aspersions on what people wanted when their marriage was falling apart. The task I had was simply to get them each what they wanted, while making minimal sacrifices in the process. It worked out best that way. They walked away with more or less what they wanted and I earned a nice chunk of change.

  After two hours of reading through her initial demands, my eyes blurred and my head pounded. Stepping out into the cubicle-lined hallway that usually housed interns and paper-runners, I reveled in the silence. That is until an “ahem” sounded out from behind me. Turning on my heel, I spun around to see my father. Even though he was only about an inch or two taller than my own six feet, it always felt as if he towered over me. And that was just what he was doing now.

  “Didn’t see your car in your spot when I parked? Someone drop you off?” His eyes traveled over my casual attire, his lips curling with disdain and derision. It wasn’t all too difficult to decipher his hidden insinuation. What he was asking without saying was if I was with anyone last night.

  Chuckling, I took a step closer to the water cooler. For a man who would pretty much disown me if my mother would let him, or if it wouldn’t look terrible for his public image, he sure was always curious about my personal life. But I knew better than to take his bait than to engage him in the conversation he really meant to get at. So instead, I finished my cup of water, crumpled the waxy paper, and tossed it in the garbage beside the cooler.

  “Got a flat last night.” My irritated tone should have been enough of an indication that I didn’t really have much more to say. My father, on the other hand, had to push the issue.

  “Told you that’s why those BMWs are no good.” Pulling his cellphone out of his pocket, he began punching some numbers. “I told you to get a Mercedes. Can’t go wrong with a Benz. I’ll call my dealer right now.”

  My hand dropping to his nearly knocked the phone out of his hand. “Stop. I’ve got it. I’m going to pick it up today.”

  Of course he didn’t offer to help me, to drive me to the shop, or home, even. At that point, all he did was grumble his annoyance at me before he walked away. From who I shared my bed with to the type of car I drove, I’d never make the man happy.

  Silently, I wondered when I’d stop caring about what he thought and start focusing on what I wanted.

  The deli where Zan wanted to meet with me was only a short walk from the office. Since it was a cool spring afternoon, the walk was actually pleasant. In about a month or so, the summer heat would be oppressive. Ironically, the snow had only recently melted away after a particularly brutal winter. But that was Long Island for you. Spring and fall became minor blips in the seasons; the extremes were the only steady things.

  Zan was already sitting at a small table by the time I walked in. His legs were bouncing like crazy, making the tabletop vibrate incessantly.

  “Parker.” Relief accompanied my name as it fell from his mouth. Opening his arms, he stepped toward me.

  Much to his dismay, I deflected the hug he was hoping for in exchange for a much more platonic handshake. “You look like crap, man,” I said as I stood next to the table. I hadn’t planned on sitting and ordering a full meal, figuring we could make this a quick lunch.

  Irritated, he ran his hand through his flopping-every-which-way dark brown hair. “Nice to see you, too.” The annoyance in his voice was thinly concealed, but the smug smile pulling at his lips helped to soften his tone a touch. He stood from the table and we walked over to the line forming at the counter.

  The small lunch counter was quickly filling up. With its fast service, fresh food, and somewhat reasonable prices, it was a popular lunch spot for local businessmen. A harried server called out, “Next,” and we stepped up to place our orders. Not wanting to be here all day, I ordered a simple sandwich and grabbed an iced tea from the cooler. Zan followed suit and within five minutes, we were walking out of the deli. There were a few tables set up to the side and since we’d beaten the crowd currently rushing inside, we were able to grab a table.

  “My dad’s doing better, by the way.” His words were mumbled around his sandwich.

  Sure, some would call me an ass for not asking, but he was the one who wanted to see me, so I chose to keep my mouth shut until he opened his.

  “That’s good.”

  A spell of uncomfortab
le silence descended upon us, broken only by the crinkling of the paper as we unwrapped our food. “Listen,” Zan finally interjected. “I know I came on a bit strong.”

  Nearly choking on my drink, I couldn’t help but laugh at his gross understatement. “Just a touch.” Pinching together my finger and thumb, he laughed at my sarcastic gesture.

  “Okay, fine. More than a little bit, but I was having a bad day.” His explanation was nearly comical.

  “So you shoved your tongue down my throat and damn near dry humped me on my front steps? Yeah, that seems reasonable.”

  Zan had the good sense to laugh some more. With the tension seemingly cut, I was able to laugh myself. “Well, maybe it was more like a bad month. My dad’s been sick for a while and when I went out with you, he’d just taken a turn for the worse a few days before that.” He averted his eyes. Whether it was to shield his emotions or find his next words, I couldn’t tell, but I knew enough to afford him the space to calm himself down. “I guess I was just looking for some kind of comfort.” There was an odd shyness to his words, a sense of shame or apology. It made me soften to him a little, but still just as friends. “Sorry about everything,” he added rather quietly.

  “It’s okay,” I said, sighing. Popping the last bite of my sandwich in my mouth, I thought maybe I’d been too harsh. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all. But as I swallowed my food, I was hit by a realization I hadn’t seen coming. I found myself staring at Zan comparing him to Liam. The deep brown in Zan’s eyes resembled Liam’s, but other than that there was nothing about the two that was similar. Where Zan had soft, prettier features, Liam was all rugged. His hard jawline, dusted in scruff, was like a siren calling me to the rocks. And even though he wasn’t the man sitting in front of me, he was the only man I was picturing.

  I’d become so distracted fantasizing about a man I didn’t even know, Zan’s finger’s snapping in front of my face weren’t even enough to pull me out of my trance. “You okay?”

  Shaking my head, I straightened in my chair. “What? Uh, yeah. I’m fine.”

  Zan stretched his hand across the small table, nudging his long fingers against mine. They were smooth and soft, nothing like the calloused roughness I’d expect Liam’s to feel like. “So what are you doing tomorrow night?” His words were spoken so softly I almost didn’t hear them. Or maybe it was that I didn’t want to believe that he’d just said them.

  “What?” Dumbfounded, all I could do was stare dumbly at him.

  Zan chuckled. It was a sound filled with nervousness. “I know I didn’t leave things that great the other night, but I thought–”

  Abruptly pulling my hand out from under his, I held it up to stop his words. “Zan.” His name falling sternly from my lips cut him off mid-sentence. “I had fun on those two dates,” I lied, and I was pretty sure he could tell. “But I just don’t think it’s going to work between us.”

  “But,” he added lamely.

  “It’s just not, but maybe we can be friends.” On my last word, he shot up from his seat. Looking down at me there was disappointment, and maybe just a touch of hurt, in his eyes.

  “I’ll see you around.” His words fell to the table.

  Pushing Zan, and all the stress he brought, from my mind, I stood from the table and threw away my garbage. As I walked back toward my office, my phone buzzed in my pocket.

  “Hello.” My single word came out harsher than it should have.

  The person on the other end cleared his throat. “Parker?”

  Running a frustrated hand through my hair, I leaned against the railing lining the walkway up to my office doors. “Yes, this is Parker. What do you want?” The combination of not recognizing the number and the caller’s uncertainty, mixed with the less than stellar end to my lunch with Zan, had me at the end of a very short rope.

  “It’s Liam. From the garage.” He cleared his throat again, his voice filling with some kind of nervousness. Chances are I’d put it there by being an asshole when I picked up the call.

  “Oh, hey.” My tone softened and a smile pulled at my lips. “What’s up?”

  The change in how I spoke seemed to put him at ease. He blew out a deep breath. “We were able to get the tire on special order and I know you said not to worry about the money, but for your model, it’s going to be about five hundred.” He paused, waiting for me to say something about the price.

  “I expected as much. When will it be ready?”

  “Well, the reason I called before I got started was because there was also some damage to the rim and undercarriage. I didn’t want to assume you still wanted me to do the work, or that you wanted to spend the money.”

  “I told you money wasn’t an issue, didn’t I?” Gripping the railing in annoyance, my knuckles turned white. “Just fix the car. Do whatever needs to be done and I’ll be there at seven to pick it up.”

  “Sure.” His voice grew terse, something hardening his tone. “Whatever you want.” Sarcasm laced his words and before I could say anything else, he ended the call.

  As I walked back into my office, I found myself thinking about Liam rolling out from under my car, covered in grease and sweat. His face lit in a smile, crinkling the corners of his eyes—eyes I could get lost in for a fucking long-ass time.

  Laughing at myself as I flopped into my office chair, I realized being a dick to the man who was currently helping me wasn’t exactly the best route to take.

  It also wasn’t lost on me that perhaps I’d been an ass simply because Liam affected me. He made me think of him in ways I hadn’t thought of another man in a very long time. He made me think of myself in ways I hadn’t thought of myself in just as long.

  Maybe it was time to act on my thoughts.

  “What the fuck is his problem?” Slamming down the receiver, Paulie shot me a strange look.

  Laughing as he wiped his hands, Paulie leaned against the cement wall. “What’s got your panties in a bunch?”

  “Shut up,” I growled, tossing a rag at his head. “It’s just this guy is being an ass.”

  Walking away from Paulie essentially puts an end to that conversation. Not that I was in the mood to talk much anyway. At that point, I had about three hours more than I’d need to get his car done. What was really pissing me off though was that he’d just assumed I’d be here until seven, catering to his needs. Clearly, he thought since he had money, he could rule the world. And that might very well be true, but it was still presumptuous of him to assume I had nothing better to do than wait around for him.

  Figuring the best way to let go of my frustrations was to start working on the car, I lined it up on the lift and did just that. Rolling the new tire over, I was completely baffled that someone would spend five hundred dollars to replace a flat tire which wasn’t supposed to go flat. Maybe it was because I’d never had much money, that I saw wastefulness where others saw splurging. Though, I shouldn’t complain too much. He was bringing us business and there wasn’t anything wrong with that.

  And it gave me a reason to be able to see him again. That thought alone had me more pissed off than any amount of money ever could. Lost to the mindlessness of changing a flat tire, my thoughts drifted to Parker. The thing I’d never admit to anyone, I even had trouble admitting to myself, was that I was drawn to his confidence, his power. Those were things I’d craved for so long, but never let myself enjoy. Hell, my inability to give into my needs was half of the reason Gabe and I didn’t work out. But suddenly, when my eyes landed on Parker, those needs sparked all over again, setting fire to ashes I’d extinguished long ago.

  As my hands worked over the metal of the bent rim, I fantasized about running my hands over Parker’s smooth skin. The thought of his freshly shaved jaw rubbing up against the scruff on my own, made my blood race through my veins. I needed to calm the fuck down. It wasn’t like I even knew if he was gay.

  And even if he was, he was out of my league. Riches didn’t go for rags like me.

  Shaking Parker out of my head, I
focused on my work. The erection pressing against my pants did not help my focus at all.

  After making the repairs on Parker’s BMW, I helped Paulie with another car in need of new brake pads. His chattering about Annie going on her latest spending spree—apparently the woman had an obsession with shoes—was enough to keep me distracted. By the time we were done with the brake job, it was time to close up the shop.

  Except, I still had two more hours to burn until Parker would arrive. I should have called him, told him he’d have to get it another time, that I was too busy to sit around and wait, but I wasn’t. And that was the worst part. All the time in the world was mine to do what I wanted with it.

  Since it was a nice enough day, one of those warm bordering on hot spring days, I decided to wash and detail the car. It was all about keeping busy and not at all about wanting to do something nice for Parker.

  No, not in the least.

  It was only the sound of tires coming to a halt in the lot of the shop that pulled my attention away from drying the last droplets of water from Parker’s windshield. The sleek black sedan had to be Parker’s. It definitely wasn’t the usual ride of our clientele. Tucking the towel into my back pocket, I walked toward the car. Stopped dead in my tracks by the sight of Parker’s long legs stretching out of the car; my mouth actually went dry. Lying to myself, I chalked it up to working all afternoon without eating or drinking. If I wanted to be honest, it had everything to do with him. His long, strong legs were showcased perfectly in a pair of uppity khakis—khakis I should hate, but ones my fingers itched to rip from his body. It became impossible to look away from him as he swiped his aviators from his face. His biceps flexed under the thin cotton of his black polo, making swallowing a challenge. When he pushed them up into his sandy blond hair, it was almost as if I could feel the silkiness of the strands as they flopped back down into his eyes. His mouth fell wide open as he took in the sight of his car behind me. Turning around quickly, he thanked the driver for the ride and then shooed him away.