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Still grumbling, Vince’s teenage niece took off running. Sam’s admirer joined her as she raced past him. Gabe plodded behind them at his own pace.
“Joe, don’t give that boy an inch with Sam.” Vince nodded toward the young pair. “She’s too young to be interested in boys.”
“Brad knows what the rules are and respects them, unlike Gabe at that age.” Joe grinned and it was like looking in a mirror, except for his eyes. Joe was the only Messina who had their mother’s blue eyes. “I hope those are clothes you can get dirty, because we could use an extra pair of hands.”
Vince took stock of his blue jeans and polo shirt, as well as Harley’s similarly casual attire. “We’re good. Are you hooking cars up to the tow truck and taking them somewhere?”
“One at a time?” Joe shook his head. “That would cost a fortune in gas. We found a scrap hauler willing to take the rest away with a double-decker semi-trailer. He comes tomorrow.”
“The rest?” Harley shaded her eyes for a better view. “How many cars are there?”
“Joe already got some running and sold them.” Brit started walking, beckoning Harley to join her. Next to Brit, Harley looked like a beanpole, as if she lacked curves.
So not true.
Harley’s curves were subtle, like her personality.
“We just need to clear the debris between the cars and the road,” Brit was saying. “And then tow them into a line them up on the edge of the pavement for the hauler to take them away.”
“That sounds easy,” Harley said without having any clue how labor intensive it really was.
Vince and Joe fell into step behind the women.
“It would go so much faster if my soon-to-be wife wouldn’t have to look at every piece of debris.” Joe wasn’t fooling anyone with his complaint. His tone was indulgent.
“I’m an upcycle artist.” Brit sniffed and tossed her head. “When I’m not doing hair, junk sculpture is my life.”
“You did the mermaids?” Harley pointed to a sculpture of a mermaid on a bicycle above the service bays.
Vince followed the direction of Harley’s finger.
Designed in metal and painted bright green, the mermaid rode on a red, white and blue surfboard above the service bay doors. There was another mermaid on the grass near the bridge.
“Yep,” Brit said cheerfully. “Mermaids are my thing. You should see the one in my beauty salon. Kiera is my masterpiece.”
Vince couldn’t stop staring at the repair shop. He couldn’t look away. His steps slowed. The sun disappeared behind a cloud.
It should run! It should run! Dad’s freaked-out voice. His silhouette seemed to move through the empty service bay, pacing.
It’ll be all right. Mom’s shadow was close at his heels. Let’s try it again, Vince.
“The place is different now,” Joe said quietly, having stopped beside Vince. “We’ve made changes. It doesn’t feel as if it was ever his.”
His. Their father’s. A man plagued by voices in his head.
“And there’s no trace of her here, either,” Joe said resentfully.
Her. Their mother. A woman who’d spent years trying to make peace with her husband’s many moods to shelter her children from instability, until she became unstable herself.
Vince acknowledged Joe’s comment with a grunt, the only sound he was capable of making.
They moved even with the house. This time it wasn’t a gloomy shadow Vince felt but the icy hand of guilt. His actions had left their family without a reliable parent.
“We’re remodeling the house.” Joe’s words rang with pride. “We tore down interior walls, ripped out all the flooring and removed everything in the bathrooms. You wouldn’t recognize it.”
Oh, Vince bet he would.
He bet he could mark an X on the spot where Dad had his after-work meltdowns. Or stand in the kitchen where Mom would smoke with the window open, hoping Dad didn’t notice the tinge of nicotine in the air.
Vince walked faster.
“Sam and I are living in the apartment above the garage until the house is done.” Joe stopped Vince with a hand on his arm. “I’m saving to buy you out.”
They stood in front of Vince’s old bedroom window. There was a reason nothing had ever grown beneath that sill. After dark, he and Gabe had used it as their own personal entrance.
“You don’t have to pay me.” The three brothers had inherited the property. Vince didn’t want anything from Harmony Valley.
“I can’t give you top dollar.” Joe set his chin the way he had when he was a kid and Vince had told him to go away. “This place was a wreck when we got here. Any value in it is coming directly from my pocket.”
“Keep your money. I don’t need it.”
“Say what you want. There’s a check coming your way.” Joe walked on, back stiff with all his honorable intentions.
If Joe had gone to Texas, he’d have done things differently. He’d have showed up at their mother’s door, introduced himself and told her off.
Vince lingered behind, taking in the property, the small house, the modest business, the cluttered field. Joe might believe things looked different now.
To Vince, things looked exactly the same.
* * *
“HOW ARE YOU holding up?” Vince asked Harley hours after they’d started.
He crossed the trampled paths they’d created to get the cars out, looking attractively scruffy.
Harley’s butterflies threatened to return.
Vince was eye candy. Not checkout-stand eye candy. Nothing that low quality. No. Vince was like the big Easter eggs Harley’s mother bought once a year from the gourmet chocolate shop. When Harley was a kid, she’d thought the fist-size eggs would be filled with more chocolate or thick cream. But, no, they’d been hollow. And so was Vince, carrots aside.
He wanted to project an image that wasn’t real to the people he should have been closest to. That was something she shouldn’t forget.
“Let’s take a break,” he said.
Vince stopped in front of Harley and peered at her face the way a doctor once had after she’d gotten a concussion trying to play basketball. That concussion had her sitting the rest of the season. Not that Harley considered that a failure. Being on the team had made her well-rounded on her college applications. She didn’t need or want playing time. She’d learned her lesson. Playing was dangerous.
Vince, with his thought-stealing kissing talent, supreme good looks and thought-stealing kissing talent—yes, it needed to be said twice—was dangerous. Harley knew about head-spinning danger. She was staying on the bench.
Vince took Harley’s hand and led her toward the garage, dragging her along like a small anchor behind a big boat. “We’ll check in.”
“I’ll go with you.” Gabe fell into step next to Harley, as energetic as an over-sugared fifth-grader.
“Gabe, it’s five. Harley’s tired and she’s a guest of ours.” It was Vince who sounded tired, no doubt worn out by his emotional homecoming.
Harley had seen how Vince’s gaze shadowed sometimes when he looked at his family’s garage. “I’m fine, but we can go if you like.”
“Harley?” Vince quirked an eyebrow. “You just told me you’re tired, didn’t you?”
She’d forgotten their scam, having been too busy thinking about his thought-stealing kissing talent. “Yeah. Sure.”
“I’m feeling a bit weary, too,” Gabe said, still his happy-go-lucky self.
“I just want to spend some time alone with my girlfriend,” Vince snapped. “Is that too much to ask?”
“Well, now I feel selfish.” Brit stopped inspecting an old car nearby and frowned at them. “I’m a bridezilla without realizing it. There’s just so much to do around here for the wedding and the house.”
“It’s okay,” Harley said. “I don’t mind helping.” That was no lie.
The Messinas were fun to be around. Brad and Sam danced about like puppies who didn’t understand exactly why they liked each other. Gabe wielded verbal volleys, taking shots at everyone, including Harley. The bride and groom snuck sweet kisses when they thought no one was looking. And through it all, they treated Harley as if she was one of their own.
“I think you guys should get going,” Gabe said unexpectedly. “In fact, I’ll make reservations at El Rosal for you. My treat.” He tugged a cell phone out of his pocket. “And while you eat, I can make sure your reservation is ready at the B and B.”
Vince tried to topple Gabe with a suspicious stare, but his brother didn’t fold.
“That’s very thoughtful of you.” Harley moved into peace-keeping mode.
“Gabe isn’t thoughtful,” Vince grumbled.
“Maybe I was selfish when I was younger and you outshone me with your huge talent underneath the hood.” An angel would have believed Gabe’s sincerity. He looked that earnest. “But I’m a changed man today.”
Vince scoffed.
“What do you do for a living, Harley?” Again, Gabe’s tone was innocuous. His smile that of an angel.
“She’s an architect,” Vince said before Harley could tell Gabe she was a tile installer. Vince gave Harley a look that telegraphed Let me handle this.
“How did you meet an architect working on an oil rig?” Gone was the angel. Gabe looked and sounded more like a hound dog on the trail of a fox.
“Vince doesn’t work on an oil rig anymore.” Harley pretended she was unable to translate Vince’s Morse code. Stick to the truth. Wasn’t that what they’d agreed? “I met him on a job site.”
They’d reached the parking lot.
“I’m working as a carpenter now,” Vince said through stiff lips.
Harley couldn’t fathom why he wouldn’t want his family to know about his job change or why he hadn’t told her his occupation was on a need-to-know basis. This was about his status quo, not hers.
They reached the door to the repair garage’s office.
“Brother, why don’t you use the shop sink to wash up?” Gabe opened the door and pointed to the stairs. “I’ll show Harley the second-floor facilities.”
Vince’s eyes narrowed.
“Sounds good,” Harley said, moving upstairs. Part of her role here was to stop Vince’s brothers from pestering him. A little distance between the siblings was called for.
The door at the top of the stairs led to a small, homey apartment with a galley kitchen. The kitchen table and living room furniture weren’t stylish retro, they were just old, yet well cared for. Three doors faced her. Two were closed. The open door revealed the bathroom. Harley went in and cleaned up.
When she emerged, Gabe was standing in front of the TV stand that didn’t have a TV. Instead family photos graced the top. He set one back down.
“I don’t want you to take this wrong.” Gabe sounded a lot like Harley’s protective older brother Taylor—overly confident and a tad self-important. Both characteristics were softened by Gabe’s unabashedly friendly smile. “I like you, but I know you aren’t dating my brother.”
Harley’s shoulders pinched in a near flinch at his assessment. She didn’t like lying, but she’d made an agreement with Vince to pretend they were dating. And there was just something about Gabe’s accusation that raised her competitive hackles. She’d never liked losing to Taylor, not in checkers and not in verbal chess.
“Really?” Harley forced out a chuckle and crossed the room to study the framed photo Gabe had been looking at. “Present your case, counselor.”
Gabe rubbed his hands together, clearly pleased that Harley hadn’t taken offense.
“First off, there’s your age difference. How old are you?” Not only did Gabe have no filter, he had no sense of boundaries. If it wasn’t for his good-natured demeanor, he would’ve been annoying. “I’m guessing twenty-four?”
“I’m almost twenty-seven.” Harley bent for a closer look. The photo Gabe had set down was of the three teenage Messina boys straddling motorcycles. An older man stood behind them with the same thick, dark hair and lady-killer grin as the boys. Their father? Harley leaned closer, taking in Vince’s multicolored striped shirt that seemed too short, blue jeans that seemed too long, and a grin that seemed too wide.
“When I was twenty-three, I dated a girl who said she was eighteen.” Gabe watched Harley closely, a spider patiently studying the fly. “Her daddy came after me with a shotgun.”
“Well, if we’re challenging each other’s relationships, I’d like to see the scars on your backside.” Harley straightened and laughed, more genuinely this time. “Are you implying I’m too young for Vince?”
“I think I’m spinning it the other way around.” He waggled his dark brows.
Harley shook her head. “Nice try, but seven years isn’t that big of a deal.”
“Sweetheart, it’s nearly eight years.” Gabe flashed a troublemaking grin. “More in dog years.”
“Clearly, it makes no difference to us.” Harley rolled her eyes. Gabe could have been cloned from the same genes as her brother.
“Clearly, there’s no zing between you two.” Gabe’s grin didn’t dim. “I’m only challenging your claim because we had a rough childhood and I feel responsible for my younger brother. You know, protective.”
“Pfft.” Gabe was more transparent than a new window in an old house. “You and Joe have a bet.”
Gabe’s eyes widened and then he began to laugh and nod. “Yep. Joe and I have a bet. Joe says you’re legit.”
Harley wanted to put Gabe in his place. And the only way she could think of doing it was to mention something personal about Vince, something he’d only tell a girlfriend, not an acquaintance. “Was this photo taken after your mother left for Texas?”
His smile disappearing faster than a cockroach on a midnight raid in the kitchen. “What did you say?”
Too late, Harley realized Vince must not have told his brothers about his mother’s location.
Vince opened the door, not looking like a man happy to see his girlfriend. No doubt, his expression would turn thunderous if Gabe asked about their mother.
The smart move would be to smile and make her escape, nose in the air. But then, nothing Harley had done this summer had been smart.
Instead she crossed the room, latched onto the collar of Vince’s polo shirt and kissed him hard.
