Cupcake (Complete Me #1) Read online

  “Sliced it on the sharp edge of a wreck.” My puzzled expression brought out one of those little half smiles. “Car wreck towed into my shop. Local tow trucks know I’ll pay them a finder’s fee if I can scavenge any parts.”

  “Your shop.” Right. Because he was a mechanic. And it sounded like he maybe owned it?

  Good God, I felt like an idiot, but something about this man rendered me stupid. “Is that your choice for your business?”

  He blinked once, heavy lids closing lazily over wraith-like eyes. “I hadn’t thought, but yeah. That’d be great. You don’t mind?”

  I was pretty sure I wouldn’t mind much of anything that he asked of me, but I couldn’t go there. Instead, I shook my head, probably too vigorously. My hair was only long enough to brush beneath my chin, but that was enough for the zipper of my sweatshirt to catch and pull.

  “Damn it!” I yanked and winced. The strands were all wound around the teeth of the zipper, and short of pulling the chunk out of my head, I was stuck.

  “Stop.” The word was a command, and I obeyed instantly. Within seconds, the fingers of those large hands were beneath my chin.

  “How’d you manage to do this with such short hair?” He spoke mildly as he worked, those fingers unweaving the golden strands from the zipper. They brushed against the delicate skin of my neck as he worked, and I couldn’t hold back the shiver.

  “Clearly I’m talented.” My voice was wry, but I felt anything but. He’d leaned into work, so close that I could feel the heat emanating from his skin.

  “I bet.” Releasing the offending strand of hair, he pulled back, but not before his touch stroked one more time down my neck—one totally unnecessary time.

  My stare shot to his, sapphire blue into ice. Had he done that on purpose? And what did his last comment mean?

  His face was set in inscrutable lines, offering me no clue. I wanted to be brave, but instead, I veered wildly back onto the well-paved, safe path.

  “Thanks.” I laughed lightly, but my heart thumped against my ribcage, my skin still sensing the lingering sensation of his fingers on it.

  To my absolute shock, he smirked and held up his hands, wiggling his fingers. “I’m good with my hands.”

  “Um.” Was he just being funny, or was he flirting? The rapid tattoo of my pulse told me which one I wanted it to be, but I just couldn’t believe it, not really.

  I hadn’t flirted with anyone since I was nineteen years old, and it seemed like a hazy memory, a rusty skill I had no idea how to put back into use.

  I felt like an idiot, and the irrational irritation that came with me had me closing my tablet with an authoritative snap.

  Yes. I’d take control of the situation. Take back control of my life. It had been hard-won, and I wasn’t about to let it go because some big meathead with strong hands made a double entendre.

  “All right. So I’ll choose a coffee shop, and do the necessary research. I’m assuming you have the appropriate information on your shop?” I wondered what he was doing taking business classes if he already owned a business, but it was none of my business, and I needed to get out of here before I made an even bigger ass of myself.

  “Yes.” There was that little smirk again. Was he laughing at me? I couldn’t tell, and it put my back up even more. “I have the appropriate information.”

  “Don’t laugh at me,” I snapped out before I could stop myself. Startled by the ferocity of my own words, I regretted them instantly but couldn’t take them back.

  Max had always been amused by my attempts to understand his work. I’d just wanted to have a discussion with him, a real one, but as he’d reminded me again and again in a million different ways, that wasn’t why he’d married me.

  “Annie. Take a deep breath.” There was that command in his tone again. Part of me wanted to ignore it just to prove that I could, but the rest of me wanted—longed—to do as he said. “I’m sorry. I’m an ass. I just liked how you said that, all prim and sexy.”

  All—what?

  My thoughts stuttered to a halt over those four little letters. Sexy. Sexy.

  I was pretty sure no one had ever said that about me before. Not ever. And now this man, this bigger than life, much younger than me man, was... yes, that was flirting. Even my rusty interpersonal skills couldn’t help but recognize that.

  Recognizing didn’t mean that I knew what to do with it, or if I even wanted to do anything. Okay, that was a big lie. I wanted—I hadn’t been looking for it, but I was massively attracted to him.

  I wasn’t at all sure that acting on that attraction was smart, not when I was so newly free, on the path I’d wanted for so long. I’d fought so hard to get here; I wasn’t going to be distracted by a sexy smirk or by large hands, no matter how good he claimed they were.

  Not that he was asking me to act on it. Jesus, one compliment and I was reacting like he’d asked me to get naked with him at the front of the class.

  That idea had possibilities.

  And clearly, I needed a cold shower. Beating my stupid hormones into submission, I brought it back to the assignment.

  “Okay. Let’s each write up our portion and then... I guess we have to meet to make our comparison.” The bell rang, saving me from the hole that I just kept digging deeper. I reached into my pocket, searching for my phone so we could swap numbers, but he tapped a finger on it, catching my attention.

  “How ‘bout tomorrow night? I have to work this afternoon and all tomorrow, but I’m free then.” He tipped his head, drawing my attention to that scar again. He’d gotten it at his shop—Kendra had said he worked at a garage. So he was a... mechanic? That explained the smudges on his worn work boots, the faint scent of engine grease mixed in with soap that wafted off of his skin.

  Yeah, I just bet he was good with his hands. Under the hood of a car, and on the body of a woman.

  My mouth went dry.

  “Annie?” Shep waved a hand in front of my face, catching my attention. “Does that work for you? I’ll buy you a drink, and we can do our comparison.”

  “My name is Anna,” I said automatically. “And... we can do our comparison via e-mail or the phone, can’t we?”

  I wanted, more than anything I wanted to go for a drink with him. At a bar, at his house, in his bed.

  That meant that it was a very bad idea. My life was complicated enough right now without adding a stupid flirtation, a crush, into the mix.

  A slow smile spread over his lips, lips that were incongruously full and sensual in the otherwise raw planes of his face. That was a panty-dropping smile if I ever saw one. And since I had no idea who else’s panties he was dropping and how often, it was just another reason for me to keep my own underpants firmly in place.

  “We could,” he agreed, unfolding that long, hard frame from his seat and standing. When he held out a hand to help me from my own, I twined my fingers with his without thinking twice, again obeying his commands, my body responding to his like he’d already been inside of me. “But I’d like to take you for a drink.”

  “I—” What was this? Was he asking me on, like, a date? Or was this just where he wanted to complete the assignment? Was I way over-thinking this?

  “Do you not drink?” Cocking his head slightly to the side, he studied my face intently, and I felt the blood rush to my cheeks, staining them scarlet and leaving me dizzy.

  “I drink.” God, Anna, just spit it out. Just tell him you’d be more comfortable doing the assignment over the phone.

  Tell him that my brain and my body were currently having a girl-fight over who would win this battle? Not a chance.

  In the end, I didn’t have to tell him anything. The strap to my bag slid down my shoulder, and he tugged it back into place for me, again leaving me breathless with that simple touch. “All right. Nine o’clock tomorrow. You know where Freddy’s is?”

  I didn’t—I hadn’t been to a bar in years. But I’d find it easily enough, so I nodded.

  “See you then. Bye, Anni
e.” He cast me one last little half-smile, and then he was gone, and I shivered at the sudden loss of heat from that long, hard body.

  My strap slid down again, and this time I tugged it up by myself, my breath hitching as I remembered that brush of his fingers on my throat, and how it had felt. There was no denying that I had... oh, hell. I had a crush, though the word seemed silly for the waves of desire that were rocking my body.

  Indulging it was probably not the smartest thing to do. But just being in Shep’s presence was like chugging champagne, the effervescent bubbles dancing in my blood. Nothing was going to happen unless I let it, so what was the harm in indulging in just one more glass?

  I had no idea just how thirsty I was.

  3

  I thought about that drink for the rest of the day. I thought about it during a sleepless night, in which I gave up on rest and used the extra hours to swirl cream and butter and sugar together in a batch of double chocolate cupcakes that I certainly couldn’t eat all by myself. It continued to haunt me right up until eight forty-five, as the GPS on my phone guided me into the tiny gravel lot behind Freddy’s Pub. This early in the evening there was still some light from the fall sky, but it was dim enough that the neon sign cast garish shadows over the silver paint of my well-used Honda Civic.

  I could have pushed for a fancy car in the divorce—Max could well afford it. The lump sum I’d received, though—it covered school, living, this car, which drove perfectly fine. It would get me through until I could earn my way, and that was all I’d wanted, never mind that my sisters thought I’d thrown away the winning lottery ticket.

  Irritation scraped at my skin, leaving its mark like a metal grater on silk. My life was finally my own. I would do with it as I pleased.

  And right now, it pleased me to have a damn drink with the sexy man from my business class.

  My palms were damp, not as much from nerves as from anticipation. I smoothed them over the soft cotton of my pink floral skirt, straightened the denim jacket that I’d had since high school, and took a deep breath. Fry grease and stale beer competed with the crisp apple scent of the autumn air, combining in a strangely delicious perfume that made that anticipation churn restlessly.

  The vibration of my phone in my purse caught my attention before I could take even one step toward the door. Uncertain if I was relieved or annoyed, I fished a hand into the depths of the massive bag I carried, finding my phone by touch alone.

  It was Max, and the muscle of my heart seemed to tighten for a moment. I considered just letting it go to voicemail—I didn’t want to talk to him right now, didn’t even want to think about him.

  If I didn’t answer, my stomach would tie itself into a knot that wouldn’t unravel until I knew what he was calling about. Sweat slicked my palms as I accepted the call.

  “Hi.” Swallowing thickly, I leaned back against the door of my car, letting the metal hold me up as nerves made my limb stiff. I couldn’t imagine what he was calling for—we hardly spoke anymore. It was the oddest sensation—the person I’d once supposedly been closest to, now for all intents and purposes a stranger. But that was what a breakup was, wasn’t it? Severing that closeness, pushing that person away. There were millions of people everywhere who could pass an ex on the street and no longer have any connection to them apart from the fact that once, that other person had been inside of them, or had been welcomed into their body.

  “Anna.” The person who had once been inside my body usually sounded formal, even to me—manners were of the utmost importance, after all. It startled me, knocked me off balance to detect irritation in his tone from the two syllables of my name.

  “What’s wrong?” I winced as the question fell from my lips, a kneejerk reaction. The number of times I’d said the same thing over the course of our relationship, over any given month, week, even day couldn’t be counted—that was what I was there for, after all, to smooth over his troubles, to make his life easier.

  Nerves that had begun to heal flared raw again. It pissed me off that even now, months later, the old habit was so easily teased out.

  I’d kicked, bitten, scratched and clawed for every shred of my new independence, and this reaction told me that I hadn’t come as far as I’d thought.

  On the other end of the line, Max laughed humorlessly. “I just received the bill for your fall tuition.”

  Don’t take away the thing I want the most.

  The knot in my gut tightened, as though two bodybuilders were tugging on opposite ends of a string as panic flared, then just as quickly subsided. He’d agreed, legally agreed, to pay for my degree. He couldn’t take that away from me.

  “Thanks for letting me know it got there.” I couldn’t imagine why else he was calling. Pulling the phone away from my ear for a second, I snuck a glance at the clock. Five minutes to eight. I needed to wrap this up.

  Max had other ideas. “Anna, I know I agreed to pay for this. And I don’t begrudge you the money. But it hit home when I saw the amount.”

  “What are you talking about?” My brow furrowed. He might be saying that he didn’t begrudge me the money, but it sure sounded like he did.

  “Five thousand dollars for one semester’s tuition. Plus books and living expenses. Doesn’t that seem a tad excessive to you?” Condescension was thick as peanut butter, spread just as smoothly in that cultured voice. He was making a point, but I was scrambling behind him, wading through the peanut goo, with no idea what he was getting at.

  “This isn’t news, Max.” Lifting a finger to my mouth, I nibbled on a hangnail. “This was what I wanted for a settlement. You agreed. We signed documents.”

  “I’m aware of that.” Condescension. Irritation. Things I’d lived with for years, tolerated for so very long, but they’d never infuriated me as much as they did right at this moment. “I’m calling to ask you why you’re doing this.”

  What?

  My mouth opened, but no sound came out, so he continued. He likely would have continued even if I’d spoken, just stomping all over what I had to say.

  “What I mean is, do you think you’re going to be able to see this through, Anna?” A swirl of pity, dark and rancid, mixed with the peanut butter condescension, and my heart hammered twice sharply. “I’ve done some research. A business degree from this school is very hard to achieve. And have you even thought about what you’d do with it after?”

  “Stop right there.” I think I might have shouted, but awareness of my surroundings had vanished in one searing blast of fury. “Are you saying you don’t think I can handle it? The school thinks I can handle it. I think I can handle it.”

  “You haven’t gone to school since high school, Anna,” he continued as though I hadn’t spoken. “And academics weren’t really your thing then, were they?”

  I dug my fingers into my palms so hard that I knew I was going to break the skin, but I didn’t care. Yes, in high school I’d been more interested in school dances and making out with my future husband behind the bleachers. But what the hell did that have to do with me now?

  He continued.

  “You’re still young enough to get married again, Anna.” I knew this tone—it was the one he thought was soothing, and I thought sounded like he had something in his throat. “Let someone take care of you. That’s all I wanted to do.”

  “Is that what this is about?” The words tore from my throat. “You want me to come back to you, so you’re going to do whatever you can to tear down my dream?”

  Silence filled the air, and I sucked in a deep breath, trying to get a handle on my emotions.

  “I didn’t want you to find out this soon.” To his credit, he actually sounded a bit remorseful. The tiniest bit. “I’m getting married again.”

  What did he just say?

  I listened with half an ear as he babbled on about how all he’d ever wanted to do was to take care of me. Even since I’d left him, that was still what he wanted—to have a woman who would let him take care of her, and he’d found someon
e who would let him do it.

  Yeah. And ten bucks that I didn’t have said that the new wedding had given him some sticker shock, which had all combined into this one freaking fantastic conversation with me.

  “Tuition is due next week.” This was all I could think of to say, and then I hung up. Turned my phone off, in case he called right back.

  And then I whirled around to face my car, let out a primal shriek of frustration, and kicked my tire as hard as I could.

  4

  “Who the hell was that?”

  Shep’s voice snapped me out of my trance. I whirled around to face him, and at first, all I could see was Max and his stupid, condescending face. Then I got a grip and realized who was speaking to me and where I was. It was Shep. He was dressed casually, jeans and a white T-shirt just fitted enough to let me see every ripple of his glorious muscled physique. I rubbed my eyes with my thumb and forefinger.

  “It’s – it’s nobody,” I lied. “Wrong number.”

  “It didn’t sound like a wrong number.” As he approached, I found myself stepping backward until I was leaning against the hood of my car. Shep leaned in and planted one hand—one freaking huge hand—on the hood, staring me deep in the eyes, his face set in hard lines. “Wrong numbers don’t usually end with yelling, Annie. Ex-boyfriend?”

  I swallowed hard. I felt like I was sitting in a police station, being interrogated by some hard-boiled detective. Not that Shep made me feel like I was in trouble. It was just that something about the phone call had triggered Shep and now he seemed like he was on red alert. “Look, I can handle it,” I said. “Thanks, though.”

  Shep took a deep breath and relaxed his shoulders. “You have any problems with him,” he said calmly. “You let me know.”

  Let him know? Why? What would Shep do? I’d always detested violence, but I’ll admit that in the light of the phone conversation, I had a teensy-tiny bit of weakness and imagined Shep punching Max square in the jaw—and the fantasy felt good to think about. Really good.