Mustang Sassy (22 page)

“She’s a real-estate agent in West Palm Beach.”

“Huh.”

“I know if you’d just give her a chance, you’ll like her.”

Based on her picture, Sass would have absolutely nothing in common with the woman. “So, when do I get to meet this Mary-Lee?”

“She’s flying in Sunday. I booked a hotel and I thought the three of us could spend some time together in Denver. I’ve got some business in town next week anyway.” Buck nudged Sass. “And it’s Mary-Lynn.”

Sass tapped her toe under the table as she chewed on this information, recognizing Mary-Lynn was the least of her worries. “Getting married is one thing, you know? But the shop? Why didn’t you at least warn me?”

“I couldn’t very well explain wanting to sell the shop without telling you about Mary-Lynn.”

“Buck, do you realize you’re ruining my life?”

He sighed. At first she thought it was out of guilt, but she soon realized it was something else. “I’m not trying to ruin your life, Sass. I just want to live mine.” He drummed his fingers on the kitchen table and continued, “A man gets to a certain age and looks back and says, ‘What exactly have I done with my life?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that the two best things I’ve ever accomplished were marrying your mother and having you. I’ve run Hogan’s for nearly thirty years and, after your mom died, well, raising a daughter on my own was a big responsibility.” He tapped his fingers some more. “You’re grown up now. The shop runs itself. And…see, Sass, there’s a big difference between living and existing.”

“So you’ve only been existing since Mom died?

“No,” he moved to the window and gazed out. “I don’t know. I just know that since Mary-Lynn has come into my life, I feel different. Life feels different. It’s like I have a second chance.”

“But why sell? You know how much I love it. I can run the shop.”

Buck turned and smiled sadly. “There’s a big world out there, Sass. I’m doing this as much for you as for me.”

Chapter Seventeen

Sass spent the night at the cabin. As if she didn’t have enough on her mind, her father’s marriage, the sale of the shop, the loss of her livelihood and everything else she’d ever known, the minute she entered the cabin she was struck by images of Jordan. And she was reminded of just one more thing she cared about and lost. She’d seen the look in Jordan’s eyes that last time in the shop. Guilt. Hardened guilt. Just like Dex. Jordan didn’t have to say a word because she recognized the meaning behind the guilt. Jordan was leaving and he didn’t want to have anything more to do with her.

At least he’d apologized.

To make matters worse, the place still smelled like him, some combination of a fancy aftershave, fresh herbs, and Jordan’s own personal musk. Lying in the bed without him made her want to get up and go somewhere else, like the Greenwood Inn, but there were too many memories there, too. Instead she took the pillow from the other side of the bed and hugged it to her, holding on to it all night, smelling it, snuggling it as if it were Jordan, as if it were her first real sleepover.

By the time she returned home the next day, Buck had already left for the shop. As she walked through the only house she’d ever known, she tried to imagine what it would be like with Buck gone for good. She couldn’t imagine it. There was Buck’s chair. His magazines. His collections of VHS tapes and DVDs. His old jackets and ball caps. His tools and work gloves and boots and…there was the picture, the family picture, of Buck, her mother, and her. Would he take it with him, or leave it for her?

Sass moved as if in a trance through every room of the house, trying her best to imagine it without her father, but having no success. Finally, she stopped in the kitchen and turned slowly in a circle. Then she fell into a chair with her hands on her head, about to lose it. If she let go of her skull, her head would explode. What was she going to do?

Searching the kitchen counter as if hoping to find some kind of clue, Sass noticed the red, blinking light of the answering machine. With a body that felt like lead, she pulled herself up and pressed the play button. Her heart scrambled up her throat and dropped onto the floor when she heard the voice.

“…Sass? …I wish I could tell you…”

She pressed stop.

No. She did not need to listen to a message from Jordan. Not now. Not when everything else was falling apart. Her finger hovered over the erase button but she stopped herself. She needed breakfast.

Sass opened the fridge and pulled out some orange juice. She found a box of Cap’n Crunch in the cupboard and poured herself a bowl using milk that was just past its expiration date but still smelled okay.

Why the hell was Jordan calling? He’d said his good-bye in the form of an apology. She’d been pretty clear about how she felt, too. Why call? Maybe there was a problem with the car. Or, maybe he’d noticed the signature panel and realized she was the one who’d fixed it.

Sass grinned, biting her lip, wishing she could have been the one to have told him. She wanted to see his face. The surprise. The doubt. The wonder.

What had he said on that message?

She got up and pressed play again. The way he said her name in that deep voice created a tickling sensation in the pit of her stomach. She stopped the message and played it again.

“…Sass? …I wish I could tell you …” Stop. “…Sass? …I wish I could tell you …” Stop. “Sass?…”

What did he wish he could tell her? That she was an amazing mechanic? That she was amazing, period? She carefully pressed play again.

“…I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have … wanted … you … but I was … anymore…”

Stop.

There were words missing in between what was recorded and she tried to fill in the blanks but it was impossible. All she came up with was,
I knew I shouldn’t have wanted you.

“Yeah? Well, I don’t want you either, asshole,” she said to the machine, pushing it to the back of the counter, her finger hovering once more over the erase button. “Forget it,” she muttered and went back to the table to finish her cereal.

After breakfast, she took a shower and dressed. She was about to leave for the shop but as she passed through the kitchen, it was as if the answering machine was a blinking neon light, saying,
Play Me, Play Me, Play Me
. Resting her elbows on the counter, she chewed her lip while staring at the play button.

What the hell?

She reluctantly pressed the button, cringing through the part where Jordan seemed to say he didn’t want her.

Then, “… Carlos a … blow to … you’ll … do this. … I never meant to… Sass, I just want … you in person. … my bill? Of course I’m … number is…”

Hmm.

That last bit made no sense. Sass listened to the message again and then once more. The tape was so messed up it was impossible to tell what Jordan was really saying. She grabbed the truck keys but stopped to play the message one more time, closing her eyes as she listened to his voice. When it got to his number, Sass realized all ten digits were there.

He’d left his number. Why? Did he really want her to call him?

No. Of course he didn’t.

But then why leave it?

She grabbed a pen and a slip of paper and listened to the whole message one more time, jotting the number down. She had no intention of ever calling but for some reason it was nice to know she had Jordan’s number. Just in case.

…

It was nine o’clock Sunday night, and Jordan was trying to watch the football game on TV, but was having a hard time concentrating. His thoughts were occupied with two things. The first was the fact that his father still hadn’t seen the car as he’d just missed his parents before they went away to Vail for the weekend. So, now Jordan was going to have to wait until Monday to show his father the reconstructed Mustang. The more he had to wait, the more nervous he became, even though he had everything planned out.

First, he’d take his dad to the back of the shop where the car was parked, and then, when his father commented on how amazing it looked, he would show him the before and after photos of the car and explain how he’d hired the man who’d performed the miracle and that Carlos would meet him later that day. After meeting and signing Carlos, Jordan would bask in the glow of his family’s favor and then he’d show them the sketches. With someone like Carlos—who could work full sheets of metal—they’d finally take his designs seriously.

Which brought him to the other item on his mind. Sass. She still hadn’t called, and Jordan was beginning to wonder if she ever would. He should have been glad she hadn’t called. Whatever they had between them was messy. But good messy, too, which was why his mind kept playing scenarios that involved him going back to Greenview and tracking her down, finding her, and straightening everything out between them. The problem was, his imagination didn’t take him much beyond some hot make-up sex. Then what? He had no idea.

With a groan, Jordan pushed himself off the sofa and searched his cupboards for some munchies. Just as he was tearing into a bag of chips, his cell phone rang. He didn’t recognize the number, but answered it anyway. Maybe, just maybe…

“Jordan?”

“Sass? Is that you?”

“Um, yeah. I’m at the…jus’ wait.”

Jordan heard some commotion in the background, and then Sass came back on the line. “Character’s Sports Bar at the Doubletree Hotel.”

“You’re in Denver?”

“Didn’t I just say that?”

“How long are you here?”

“I don’t know? Couple-o-days.”

Jordan held the phone between his chin and ear and quickly wrote down the name of the bar.

“You coming?”

“I’ll be right there.”

…

Traffic was fairly light as Jordan made his way up Martin Luther King and North on Quebec Street. It had taken him about forty minutes from the time he’d spoken to her before he found Sass, sitting in a booth by herself, hazily watching the game with a tabletop full of empty shot glasses.

So much for his plan to talk to her about his unpaid bill and what she’d overheard in the shop. From the way her head bobbled when she turned in surprise as he slid into the booth across from her, it was obvious that Sass was sloshed.

“Jordan! Whacha doin’ here?”

“You called me.”

“I did? Good. Want a drink?” She offered him the shot that sat in front of her.

“No thanks.”

“No? Okay.” Sass tipped the shot glass to her mouth and slammed it back. She wiped her lips with the back of her hand and pushed the glass to the center of the table with the others. “So, Michaels. How you been?”

“Sass,” Jordan said warily. “What’s my name?”

She guffawed. “What’s wrong, Jordan? Forget your name on the way over here?” She glanced blearily around the bar as if his name was lurking somewhere.

“Right.” Jordan faked a smile. What was going on? Either Sass was so drunk, she’d forgotten the scene between him and Carlos in the shop, or she never heard him in the first place. Damn!

Jordan eyed the many empties and said, “So, what brings you to Denver?”

“My new mother-in-law.”

“Mother-in-law?”

“Not my mother-in-law, silly, my stepmother.”

“I didn’t know Buck was married.”

“He’s not.” She shook her head. “But the woman wants me to stand up with her at the wedding.” Sass leaned across the table. “I don’t even know her.”

Suddenly Sass’s current state of inebriation became clear. “Did you just find out?”

“Yeah. I just met her. For the first time. Tonight. Now they’ve gone back up to their room to…” Sass shivered like she’d just slammed another shot.

“Wow. That must have been a surprise.”

“No kidding, right?” She let out a big sigh. “It’s just lust. That’s all it is. Oh, she’s sweet, all right. She smiles lots, speaks softly.” Sass lowered her voice in imitation. “She’s pretty and gorgeous and smart and pretty and she looks at Buck as if he’s ‘all that’ and more.” Sass shook her head. “I mean. Good for Buck, you know? I’m happy if he’s happy. But…” She practically crawled across the table in order to get closer. “I think he’s thinking with only one part of his body…and it sure as hell isn’t his brain.”

Jordan tried to say something, but Sass just plowed right ahead.

“You know what the best part is?” Even though she gawked at Jordan as if waiting for him to answer, she continued the conversation all on her own. “Buck’s moving down there! To Florida! What the hell does Buck know about living in Florida? He’s a big man. He’s going get really sweaty.” Sass lifted a shot glass and waved it at the bartender, asking for another drink.

Jordan caught the bartender’s eye and shook his head. The woman nodded, understanding to close the tab. “How many drinks have you had?”

“One or two.” Sass shrugged.

“There are seven shot glasses on the table.”

“How many have you had?” Sass’s torso weaved across the table toward Jordan as she tried to focus on his face.

“None. I just got here.”

“Oh. Who drank the rest?”

“Maybe we should get you back to your room.”

“To my room? Is that all you guys ever think of?”

“No, Sass, I…”

“No, Sass…” She did a poor imitation of him. “You’re just like the others. Want only one thing from me. Hey, I get it. I do. First there was freckle-face Carter. Then that bastard Dex Whelan.” She laughed raucously. “Can you believe I actually thought I loved him? Me?” She slammed the empty glass and wiped her lips like she’d just had a drink. “I shoulda clued in when the only place he’d meet me was at the Greenwood.” Sass shivered again. “He said he was staying there ’cuz he left his wife. Lying somna bitch!” Sass banged her fist on the table, making all the shot glasses clink together. “Then there was Carlos…”

“Let’s go, Sass.” Jordan stood and pulled Sass into his arms. As enlightening as her monologue was, Jordan didn’t think Sass wanted the whole bar to know about her personal life. But, as she let him half lead, half carry her to the lobby elevator she kept talking as if they were still seated at the table. “Carlos is such an ass. Not bad in bed, you know? But really, what was I thinking? Guess I’m not very good at choosing men.”