Undeniably His Read online

  “Okay, Mr. Carmichael, I’ll listen to your proposal bullshit, and if I don’t agree, you’ll leave,” I say, folding my arms across my chest.

  “That’s fair.” He strides back in my direction and stops in front of me. Miles looks away for a moment then takes a deep breath. “What I’m going to ask you may sound a little strange, but just hear me out.” I nod and then he continues. “I need you to look after someone for me.”

  I tilt my head slightly. “Look after someone? I don’t understand. I’m a mechanic, not a babysitter.”

  “Let me finish.” He pulls at his tie and then unbuttons the top button of his shirt. “Damn, it is hot in this place.”

  I laugh and glance back at the broken air conditioner.

  “Can you hurry it up? I have work to get done,” I say, knowing full well I don’t have a damn thing to do but sit around and think about how I’ve failed everyone who loves me.

  “I don’t need a babysitter. What I need is someone to keep an eye on my sister. She recently went through a bad divorce. The guy was—is—a total dick, and well, we’re worried about her,” he explains as he takes his jacket off and rolls up the sleeves of his shirt.

  “We?” I walk over to the exit door and push it open, hoping to get a little air in this oven.

  “Yeah, me, my mom, and my dad. What I need is for you to follow her and report back to me. Let me know who she’s spending her time with, whether she’s with friends or on a date. Keep an eye on her house from time to time; let me know if she ever has overnight company. Just keep me informed so I’ll know she’s safe. None of this should interfere with your work here, because she’s at her office every day during the week and she also works some Saturdays. I’ll mostly only need you to check up on her when she goes out, and she doesn’t do that a lot. But now that she’s divorced, that may change—although I doubt it. My sister isn’t much of a partier.”

  “Hold up!” I turn away from Miles and walk around behind the counter. “You want me to stalk your sister?” I chuckle, because this guy is fucking hilarious or crazy or both. “No, thanks. You need to hire someone who is trained to do this sort of thing. I’ll end up getting caught and thrown in jail, and that’s not happening.”

  “You won’t get caught. Just keep your distance and observe, and to make it easier, I’ve got a tracking device on her car so I can text you with locations. Look, Mr. Matson, I know this sounds borderline insane, but Emmie…” He hesitates for a second then moves closer to the counter. “She’s young and still very naïve about the world. She married as a teenager, so she never dated much. Do you have a sister?” he asks, laying his jacket across the counter.

  “Yes, I have a younger sister, but I don’t know that I would go to this extreme. At some point, they have to grow up and look out for themselves. I’m sure your sister will be fine. You don’t need me to follow her around. You having her followed seems… I don’t know… crazy.” I drop my head back and close my eyes for a second, trying to wrap my mind around what this stranger just asked me to do. It’s wrong, but something has to change around here or I’ll soon be locking the doors for good. I lift my head and my eyes meet his once again. “Why don’t you hire a PI?”

  He rubs the back of his neck and looks down before he answers. “I don’t want a paper trail or any money exchanging hands, and honestly, after looking at this place, I want to help you dig out of the financial hole you’re in.”

  “I told you my business is doing fine, and I don’t need anybody’s charity, especially some arrogant asshole who—”

  “I’m not doing this as a charity project, because trust me, there are plenty of those out there I could take on. I’m doing this, because I need an ordinary guy who’ll blend in with a crowd, or in a restaurant, or at the movies, or wherever she may go.” He cocks his head, and then continues, “I told you it would sound strange.”

  “Strange?” I laugh. “It sounds crazy. I don’t know, man; something about this whole proposal, as you call it, doesn’t pan out. You don’t even know me. I could be a serial killer or rapist or even some unstable mental patient, and you’re asking me to basically stalk your sister.” I shake my head and glance back through the window at my brother. Fuck. We could use the help, but creeping around and watching some unknowing woman seems all kinds of fucked up.

  “Do you have a family?” he asks as he wipes the sweat from his brow.

  “Yeah, and that’s the only reason I would even consider something that feels sort of illegal.” All the reasons why I shouldn’t do this run through my mind, and then I remember the one reason I should: Rhys. I swallow past the lump in my throat, and then ask, “How long would I have to do it—follow her?” Just those words cause the hairs on the back of my neck to stand up.

  Miles takes a wide stance and crosses his arms. “Six months at the most, just enough time for me to see she’s okay and is making reasonable decisions.” He cuts his eyes away for a beat before looking back at me. “If it makes you feel any better, my dad… he knew yours.”

  I know what he’s about to say before the words leave his mouth. Everybody in this small community knew Jim Matson. He was a great man out in the world, but behind closed doors, he was somebody completely different. He loved his whiskey, but I’m not going there with Miles, because some things are better left unsaid.

  “My dad always used this shop because he said Jim Matson was a good man. He trusted him to do a good job and not screw him over. So, that’s why I have faith that you’ll watch over Emmie, because only a good and honest man would stick it out in a place like this.”

  There’s that arrogant fucking smirk again, the one this asshole wears so proudly. I want to tell him to take his Mercedes-driving ass out of my shop and never come back… right after I punch him in the face.

  Fuck! I shouldn’t do this, but unfortunately, the reasonable part of me just checked out and left me standing here in front of this jerk, considering stalking some poor, unsuspecting woman. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I don’t know what to do. If I could only get this place to turn a profit, then all my problems would fade away, and I’d finally be able to breathe again.

  “How does this work?” I ask through gritted teeth.

  “So, you’ll do it?” He takes a couple of steps back and smirks, again.

  “Yeah, but I can change my mind and walk away at any time.” This is an all-time fucking low for me. I shake my head and then look at Miles. “Well, I’m waiting,” I tell him.

  He pulls his phone out of his pocket and walks toward me. “Give me your number.” He extends his hand, and I take a deep breath before grabbing his phone. After I punch in my number, I set it on the counter and look toward the door.

  “Don’t feel guilty, Mr. Matson. We all do what we have to do to survive, and what you’re doing is nothing to be ashamed of.” He laughs as he picks up his phone, his fingers moving quickly across the screen.

  “The name’s Beau,” I tell him, my voice stern.

  Lies, lies, lies—I can see them piling up around me before this thing even gets started. No one can ever know about this. I’ll have to come up with something believable to tell my family, because they’ll wonder how I’m suddenly able to fix up the building and have money in the budget for advertising and marketing. I’ll figure out how to make them believe I had money put away, or maybe I’ll say I found an old account of Dad’s that he had set up for the business; I’ll figure it out later. Right now, my focus is on this motherfucker standing in front of me, gloating.

  If this Emmie chick is anything like her asshole brother, then he doesn’t have to worry, because she’ll never have a date.

  “Okay, Beau, I sent you a recent photo of Emmie along with her home and business addresses. She drives an older model white Jeep. Most likely, I’ll be in touch with you several days a week. Oh, and I’ll have someone out later today or first thing in the morning to replace that window unit. Then I’ll get started on your website and marketing plan,” he says, s
hoving his phone back into his pocket.

  “Before you leave, I have a question for you.” He nods, and I continue, “Did you come here today knowing you were going to ask me to participate in this fucked up plan of yours, or did you decide that once you met me?” My irritation has taken a back seat to curiosity. This whole thing still seems so illogical. I’m sure somewhere down the road it will come out as to why he asked me, but for now, I’m gonna take it one step at a time, squeeze everything out of him that I can to get this place back on its feet. When the shit hits the fan and truths are found out, I’ll worry about damage control, but for now, I’m going to live with the decision I just made.

  Miles grabs his jacket and heads toward the door. Before he steps outside, he stops and looks back at me. “I survive on one impulse after another. Nothing I do is ever planned. I’d been thinking about Emmie and her newfound situation all morning. When you walked through that door”—he nods toward the door to the shop— “I knew instantly that you were the guy who needed to keep an eye on her. I figured, if I convinced you I could help save your business, then you couldn’t turn me down. Was I right?” He laughs. “I think I was, and it’s a win-win situation: you get a marketing plan, an air conditioner, and a minor facelift for your shop, and I can sleep at night because I know you’re looking out for Emmie,” he says as he steps over the threshold leading outside.

  After Miles is gone, I pull out my phone and scroll through the information he sent me. I know the street she lives on; it’s not far from here, and her business is only a short distance from her house. I recognize the Jeep; I think we worked on it a few years back. It was around the time my dad got sick, but my memory is shit, so I’m not sure who brought it in. It could have been her, or maybe her dad. Then I scroll down a little farther until her picture appears on my screen. I wasn’t expecting her to be so beautiful. I guess, with her brother’s arrogant attitude, I thought she’d look like a bitch, but she doesn’t—not at all. She’s young, blonde, and happy, and her smile is so big it reaches the corners of her blue eyes. Fuck, she looks so real, and that smile is nothing but sincere. I take a deep breath and look away from her picture. I can’t think about Emmie Carmichael as anything other than what she is: a job and a chance at a brighter future for me and my family.

  10

  Beau

  Present day

  I made a huge fucking mistake kissing Emmie in the hallway of Vic’s Place last weekend. The only way to fix it is to walk away from the agreement I have with Miles and never see Emmie Carmichael again.

  I take a deep breath and run my hands through my hair. “Fuck!” I yell, slamming my fist into the wall.

  I don’t know what got into me. I’m not impulsive. I’m focused, determined. I’m an adult who knows the difference between right and wrong, and Emmie Carmichael is so damn wrong. I pinch the bridge of my nose and squeeze my eyes shut. Think, Beau. Think. I’ve got to get out of this fucking disaster I’ve created before someone gets hurt or I go to jail.

  If I’d let her walk away after I didn’t return her kiss, then she would have thought I’m an asshole and would never want to see me again. I couldn’t let her leave feeling rejected, hurt, and humiliated, so I kissed her, and in that moment—that kiss—I felt my entire world shift. She was offering all her beauty to me in that dimly lit hallway. I knew I didn’t deserve her the moment our lips met. I shouldn’t have followed her down that hallway, but she was coughing, maybe choking, and I wanted to be sure she was okay. I never planned on talking to her or kissing her or losing my mind for those few minutes, but it happened, and now I have to fix it.

  Over the last six weeks, I’ve held up my part of the agreement. I’ve hung out at Luna’s Wine Bar on Friday afternoons, kept an eye on Emmie as she went on a few dates with some loser, and watched her drink and dance with friends at Vic’s Place and The Groovy Rose. I’ve heard her laughter and watched her smile too many times to count.

  My phone vibrates on the counter, pulling me out of my thoughts. I know who it is before I even look at the screen. Miles Carmichael is becoming a pain in my ass, but I can’t be mad at him, because it’s my own fault.

  MC: Did the blond guy ever show up Friday night?

  Of course he’s going to text me now, when I can’t stop thinking about how beautiful Emmie’s face looked after I kissed her.

  I pick up my phone and shoot him a one-word response.

  Me: No

  Then I toss it back on the counter just as the door to the lobby opens.

  “Here.” Leo throws me a set of keys while making his way across the small room.

  I snag them midair and take the clipboard from him.

  “What’d you bring in?” I ask before scanning the paperwork.

  “A ‘95 Mustang. I’m pretty sure it’s the starter.” He shakes a cigarette out of the pack and sticks it between his lips.

  “Don’t light that up in here,” I demand.

  “Do you see a lighter in my hand?” He holds up his hands and shakes his head before walking around me. “Oh, and fucking answer whoever’s blowing up your phone, asshole,” he grunts as he walks into the shop, letting the door slam behind him.

  I drop the keys on the counter and glance down at the screen.

  MC: Abby will be by later to look at the lobby. Maybe she’ll be able to make the place look more appealing to your customers.

  MC: Your website is up and running. Check it out and let me know what you think.

  www.jimmatsonautomotive.com

  MC: So, she didn’t have a date Friday night?

  Me: Who’s Abby? Thanks for the website. No.

  I reply quickly then chuck my phone into the drawer next to the computer.

  The rattling of the front door pulls my attention away from Miles and his texts. I glance over my shoulder as the door flies open and a tall redhead strolls into the lobby.

  “Mr. Matson?” she asks, making her way over. She looks at me for a beat and then takes a quick survey of the room. She scrunches her nose and shakes her head a couple times.

  “That’s me,” I say, leaning on the counter. “You must be Abby.” At least that’s my assumption as I watch her survey every inch of my waiting area for a second time.

  “No, I’m not Abby. I’m Jane,” she tells me, pulling a small envelope from her bag.

  “Okay, Jane. What can I help you with today?” I smile as my eyes drift to hers. She doesn’t look happy. Her eyebrows are drawn and her lips form a straight line, but in her defense, most people aren’t happy when they show up here with a broken-down vehicle, especially first thing in the morning. I’ve learned over the years that a car that won’t start before 7:00 a.m. is the quickest way to get a person’s blood boiling.

  “I came by to drop this off.” She slides the envelope in front of me.

  “What is it?” I pick it up off the counter and then look back at her. Damn, she looks familiar, but I can’t place where I know her from.

  Drumming her fingers on the countertop impatiently, she huffs out a breath, and says, “It’s a check for the repair work you did on Emmie Carmichael’s Jeep.” She shifts her weight from one foot to the other before crossing her arms. Now I recognize her; she’s been with Emmie at both Vic’s and the wine bar. Fuck.

  “I don’t understand,” I say, narrowing my eyes. “You didn’t have to deliver it. I told her to drop it in the mail.” I shake my head slightly, staring down at the envelope.

  “Well, Mr. Matson, let me help you to better understand.” She leans against the counter, inching her face closer to mine. The smell of her expensive perfume is almost enough to choke me. I take a couple steps back so I can breathe. “Emmie is one of my best friends. She has been to hell and back over the last year,” she sneers. “I mean, hell. Do you understand me?” She leans over the counter and points her finger toward my face. “And if you think I’m going to stand around and watch someone like you take advantage of her, well, you’re wrong.”

  “I’m sorry, Jane
, but I don’t know why you’re threatening me or whatever it is you’re doing since I only know your friend because I worked on her vehicle.” I take a few more steps back, increasing my distance from the crazed woman. Damn, Miles needs to be more worried about who Emmie’s friends are, rather than the guys she dates. “I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. My brother, Leo, towed in her Jeep Wrangler. I replaced the battery and returned it to her, and now you’re here, in my shop, insinuating I’m taking advantage of her,” I grunt. Dammit! I’m afraid she can see straight through all the lies. I’m not a liar—it’s just not the way I’m wired—and I know if I continue to look her in the face, she will soon figure me out. So, I dart my eyes away.

  “Surely you don’t expect me to believe anything that comes out of your mouth, Mr. Matson. I know your type. I know what you’re after, and if I have anything to do with it, I promise you you’ll never get it.”

  This woman is pissing me off, but I decide to play nice with her so maybe I can find out exactly what she thinks she knows. I walk around the counter so we’re standing face-to-face.

  “Why don’t you break it down for me, Jane? Tell me exactly what I’m after,” I say, my voice firm.

  She shakes her head as a laugh breaks through her lips. “Gladly.” She raises her right eyebrow and smiles. “The first time I ever laid eyes on you was at Luna’s Wine Bar. It was our Friday afternoon meeting, which Ava, Emmie, and I have every week. You sat at the bar alone for about thirty minutes and then left. You did your best to chat with the waitress, but I saw those silver eyes of yours occasionally glance over at our table—or should I say, at Emmie,” she says confidently. She widens her stance slightly, her unrelenting stare never leaving me. “I saw you there a few more Fridays after that, but the last time, you were with a date. I remember that day specifically because our waitress was too focused on you to take care of us.”