I Heard Him Exclaim (3 page)

“No.” Poppy pressed her lips together.

“We have to go in the tow truck, Poppy. You want to see inside it, don’t you?”

Steve couldn’t help but notice that Chandler’s charming attempt at coercion was striking out with his niece as well.

“No.” She shook her small head.

“Where are you going, Kevin?” Steve asked. “I can take Chandler and Poppy with me and meet you there. Poppy likes my car, don’t you, sweetie?”

Poppy nodded brightly but Chandler demurred. “I can’t possibly expect you to go so far out of your way…”

“It’s no trouble. I like to be of service.” Steve stopped that train of thought right away. “Although now that I said it that way, that sounds kind of creepy. But I do like to help people out. It’s nice to be needed or something.”

Poppy gazed at him with hero worship but Chandler’s eyes were on Steve’s mouth while the side of his own edged up in a secret little smile… There was no mistaking that look. “So you’re a good Samaritan?”

Steve felt his cheeks heat. “Um. Yeah. Well, I guess you could say that.”

“Is there a way to secure Poppy’s car seat in the back of your car?”

“Actually, yeah, I installed a lap belt in the middle when my sister had kids. It’s not as good as one of those new tie-down things car manufacturers install, but it meets the car-seat manufacturer’s requirements.”

“It’ll do. Show me.”

Steve helped Chandler transfer the seat to his car and showed him how to put it in and thread the seatbelt through to tighten it down. They buckled Poppy into her safety harness.

Steve asked, “Poppy, did you know that race car drivers have five-point harnesses too?”

“Do you drive your car in races when you’re not delivering toys?”

“No way. This car is a classic. If anything happened to it, that would be a crime against car lovers everywhere.”

“So you just drive it at Christmas?”

Steve thought for a minute about how much he wanted to perpetuate her fantasy that he was the real Santa Claus. In the end he decided on the truth. “Actually, I mostly drive it for fun. I have a work truck too, that I use for day-to-day stuff.”

“No reindeer?”

“I don’t have reindeer, no.”

Poppy looked so disappointed he felt bad about telling her that.

Chandler saved the day. “I always thought that reindeer thing had to be a fish story. Who believes in flying deer? For one thing you’d see deer poop all over the road on Christmas day, am I right?”

“Yeah, right.” Poppy snorted. “Flying deer.”

“Are you going to be all right back here?” Steve asked. Poppy nodded. Steve tugged the seat a little to make sure it didn’t budge. “Fine, Uncle Chandler can stay with you here if he likes, or he can come up front with me.”

“I’ll stay here.” Chandler put his arm around the little girl. “Poppy doesn’t like cars much. At least if I’m not driving we can be next to each other, huh?”

“Good idea.” Steve didn’t mind. If he’d been in a major car wreck, he’d be terrified in that backseat all by himself. He wasn’t scared at all and he was pretty sure he wanted Uncle Chandler holding his hand too.

Timing. You had to love it. He might have met Chandler when he was footloose and fancy free but no…

“I only have the original radio in this car but if you get bored I have an iPhone that plays tunes and has a couple of movies on it. I probably have
Rudolph.
”

“Thanks, we’re cool.”

They waited while Kevin hooked up the Honda. When he finally had it ready and took off, they followed it.

Steve peeked in the rearview mirror. Chandler was gentle and soft-spoken with his niece, and he had a special smile that seemed to be just for her. Steve liked that smile—a lot—because of the way it made Chandler’s nose wrinkle kissably in the middle. Chandler’s eyes, though, looked a little tired, and not just lack-of-sleep tired.

Steve wondered if, in the aftermath of their family tragedy, Chandler had been so busy caring for Poppy that he hadn’t taken care of himself. Presumably he’d lost a brother. Steve didn’t even know what he’d do if he lost one of his.

When Chandler visited his family he’d probably get some time to rest and reflect. Judging from the way he obsessed about taking care of Poppy, it would be good to hand that responsibility off to some grandparents for a bit as well.

“Why don’t you guys see if you can rest? I’ll get you there in one piece.”

Yeah. That sounded a little creepy too. Steve couldn’t help but think that whole stranded-motorist/good-Samaritan thing formed the backbone of some of the scariest movies he’d ever seen.

“I’m not a weirdo or anything,” he reassured Chandler, who had already closed his eyes.

“Yeah.” Chandler’s lips did that secret smile thing again. “Because no weirdo ever said those words…”

There was no doubt about it. Axis Tires in Baker wasn’t someplace Chandler wanted to spend time. It consisted of open bays and had no office to speak of, but was extremely efficient in a no-frills way. Nice guys. When they got there, he decided to have the flat tire replaced plus all the others besides, because Garvin’s tires had less tread than a pair of latex surgical gloves. Pahrump was at the end of State Routes 127 and 178, long and lonely stretches of nowhere, the very last place he wanted to have a breakdown. It only remained for him to wait.

“It will just be a bit and then we’ll have you on your way,” Kevin told him when they’d finished writing up the work order and Chandler had handed over his credit card. He glanced around. Not exactly an enticing place to wait.

“If you want we can sit in my car until they’re done.” Steve offered. “It won’t be long, and Poppy seems comfortable.”

“Yeah, thank you.” Chandler glanced over at the little girl. The dome light from the Dodge illuminated her where she sat drowsily eyeing him. “The sooner I get this fixed the sooner I can let you go back to what you were doing before you had to play knights and maidens.”

Steve shrugged. “I was only going to Vegas to blow off steam. No harm done.”

“Really? At Christmastime?”

“It’s a long story. I wasn’t feeling the whole holiday thing.”

“But now you’ve been cast in the role of Santa Claus by an expert.”

“She’s not so far off, actually, I—”

“Mr. Tracey? Here’s your receipt and your paperwork, sir.”

Chandler took the papers from Kevin and turned back.

“So. What’s after car maintenance? Are you headed to Vegas?”

“Pahrump.”

“Ah.” Steve stood there, moving from foot to foot.

“Yeah.” Chandler shrugged. He wondered why things couldn’t just be easy. Steve’s blue eyes called to him like nothing ever, and he wasn’t sure why. It was mutual too—they’d traded furious signals from the moment they’d met outside the rest-stop bathroom. Wasn’t
that
rich. His friends would find it hilarious if he came back singing the praises of a man he’d met at a rest-stop bathroom. He glanced back to where Poppy sat in her car seat and sighed.

If ever there was a time when he needed something—when he was desperate to lean on someone bigger than him who seemed competent and unflappable—this was it. Regret could probably be seen oozing from every pore of his skin.

Brows lowered over Steve’s perceptive blue eyes. “Look, you seem like a nice guy. Would you be offended if I said you look tired? Can I help you? Are you hungry?”

Because Steve mentioned it, Chandler’s gut clenched. He hadn’t eaten since noon and it was going on nine. He’d packed an embarrassment of snacks for Poppy, and she’d been eating them, but so far he’d only grabbed a handful of crackers or a piece of string cheese each time he gave her something. He’d planned on throwing himself on his mother’s mercy and, failing that, eating from his parents’ huge refrigerator full of leftovers. He wanted a beer in the worst way, but there was no way he’d have one if he was driving.

“I’m starved.”

“I could take you and Poppy out to eat while you’re waiting for your car. Kill some time?”

Chandler glanced away. “I figured my mom would feed us when we got there but it might be some time yet. If it’s not too much to ask, could you do that?”

“Sure.” Steve relaxed visibly. “I’d be really glad to.”

***

Steve got Chandler and Poppy settled into the backseat of his car and left the garage behind in favor of looking for someplace to eat. Of course, in Baker, California, there was only one place that a man with any self-respect would take a friend to eat—not because it was great food, although it was better than anything else Baker had to offer, and not because of the prices, because they were high. One only went to this particular Baker eatery for two reasons—one, it was quite possibly the tackiest place ever, with its loud Greek music, its blue-and-white stripes and its inexplicable, multiple replica statues of David—who was not Greek—by Michelangelo who, as far as Steve knew, was only remotely related to anything Greek by rumor and innuendo. The second reason was because it was
there.

They pulled into the parking lot of the Mad Greek and he parked the car.

“What the heck?” Chandler glanced around when they got out. “I’ve seen signs for this place but I didn’t think anyone actually ate here.”

“I do.” Steve frowned. “I used to.”

Chandler opened the back door and unbuckled Poppy from her seat. She let herself be pulled from the car and held her arms up imperiously for a ride. “Up?”

“Sure.” Chandler picked her up and walked with her until the three of them entered the restaurant. “Busy for this time of day, isn’t it?”

“It’s like this on heavy travel days. I used to be something of a frequent flyer between here and Vegas, and it gets crazy in the summer.”

Chandler looked around at all the lawn art statues of gods and goddesses. “It’s pretty crazy in general.”

“
Hopa
.” Steve got a dimple for that. “What do you like? They have every Greek delicacy you can imagine, including carne asada burritos and bacon cheeseburgers.”

“Whatcha think, Poptart? Want a burger?”

“I see Poppy as the kind of girl who’d have her eye on a fresh strawberry shake.”

They got in line while Chandler studied the menu. It provided the perfect opportunity for Steve to study Chandler. Steve guessed he was about twenty-seven. He was fit as hell, the arms that held the girl were nicely muscled, forearms corded like he pumped iron regularly. Chandler only came up to his nose, though, so he had to look up at Steve when they talked. That wasn’t a problem, because his brown eyes had lashes like a ballerina’s tutu. They lowered when they caught Steve staring, and a little rosy blush bloomed on his cheeks.

While he inventoried Chandler, Poppy studied him. “How come you’re a skinny Santa?”

“I stopped coming to places like this,” Steve told her. “How come you think I’m Santa? Because of my car?”

“You have Santa eyes.” It sounded like an accusation, like she expected him to hand them over so she could give them back to their rightful owner.

Steve nodded. “I’ve been told that.”

“Do you want a little plain burger with French fries?” Chandler asked Poppy, who shrugged.

Steve noticed an older couple watching them from a booth in the corner. They put their heads together and whispered something. The woman’s eyes narrowed. Chandler apparently saw where Steve was looking and sighed.

“Yeah, that? I get that a lot lately. I can’t figure out whether it’s the gay thing or whether they just think I’m a pervert.”

“It’s probably not about you at all,” Steve said as he turned back to find something on the menu that he could eat. Everything seemed to be…

“You ought to be ashamed of yourselves.” The man who’d been staring at them brushed past Steve, bumping his arm with his shoulder, hard. “Bringing a kid into your sick lifestyle.”

Steve was stunned. “Excuse me?”

The woman held her man’s arm when he would have turned to answer. “Not now, honey. This is California. Queers run the place.”

“Fuckin’ don’t make it right.”

“Let’s go. You promised.”

The man spat on the ground near Steve’s work boots. “Fine.”

They left without looking back.

“Holy sh—cow. I hope they don’t know which car is mine.” Steve walked to the glass doors where they’d entered to look out at the parking lot. He couldn’t see his car from there and was about to head out when Chandler put a hand on his arm.

“They were here when we came in, they couldn’t possibly know.”

Steve was unconvinced. “It’s got that kid seat in the back.”

“But that could belong to anyone in here. Even one of the employees. It’s a car. It’s not worth getting your ass kicked, is it?”

Steve’s heart sank like a stone. He turned to face Chandler and wished he didn’t look like a two-headed monster, but with Poppy in his arms and their faces level, two pairs of eyes blinked back at him.

Steve took a deep breath. “Okay. I’m going to say this once. That car is a classic. It is exactly as old as I am and I’ve spent my life working with my dad to keep it up. He gave it to me on my thirtieth birthday and sometimes…” He swallowed hard and willed himself not to let his emotions get the better of him. “Sometimes he doesn’t remember that so good. So it’s more than a car, yeah?”

Chandler whispered a hoarse apology and then turned and got back into line. Steve stood indecisively by the door for a minute, then left for the parking lot.

His Honeybee was right where he left her, safe and sound. No one was milling around the passenger vehicle lot. He looked to where the truckers were parked and heard Chandler’s voice right behind him.

“I didn’t understand.”

Steve relaxed. “No. It’s… There’s no reason you should. It’s probably stupid to be so attached to something like a car.”

“I don’t get cars.” Chandler’s voice was low and soothing. “I understand something about loss, though.”

Steve glanced at Poppy. “I know. Let’s go get your princess her shake, shall we?”

Poppy rolled her eyes. “I’m not a princess.”

***

Chandler liked Steve—a lot. He was kind of a throwback guy. Older. He seemed made of muscle cars, Hawaiian shirts and work boots. He’d probably gotten his tan from working outside, because he rocked a whole lot of freckles and had little crinkly white lines on the side of his eyes. Chandler didn’t know how he knew, but he was certain that Steve laughed a lot at work.

They’d both ordered iced tea. Chandler got himself a gyro, and a kid’s burger and fries for Poppy. She sat between them, working on those fries one at a time, dabbing each bite into ketchup. Every so often Steve reached over matter-of-factly and replenished her ketchup supply. When she dropped a chunk of berry onto her shirt from her shake he dunked a paper napkin into his water and handed it to Chandler as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“If you get that now, it won’t stain.”

“You sure you don’t have kids?”

Steve blushed. Seriously.
Blushed.
“Not unless… I can’t even think of a way that would be possible, actually.”

Chandler didn’t believe him. “Never…?” He glanced down at Poppy to make sure she was engaged with her food. “With a woman? Never?”

Steve shook his head. It was a tight little movement, as if the subject embarrassed him.

“In your whole life?”

Steve did that small headshake again, then followed it up with a shrug. “Never been much interested that way.”

“I see.”

“What about you?”

Chandler rolled his eyes. “High school.”

“And now?”

“No girls allowed.” At Poppy’s frown he amended that. “Except Poppy.”

Steve’s smile was there and gone, but that hint of pink that stained his cheeks stayed put.

“Nice to hear.” Steve forked the meat off his chicken kebob—no easy thing with plastic utensils. It was fairly healthy looking, surrounded by grilled vegetables and Greek salad. He pushed his plate forward. “Want to try a bite?”

“Oh yes.” Chandler didn’t take his eyes off Steve’s while he stabbed half a cherry tomato with his fork and popped it into his mouth. That sweet smile crept back onto Steve’s face again, but he fought it down. Once more it left a blush in its wake.

This has to be the sweetest damned man I’ve ever met.

And suddenly food was the furthest thing from Chandler’s mind. Without even thinking about it, he ran the tip of his index finger along Steve’s forearm where it rested behind Poppy’s head on the back of the blue vinyl booth. Steve had ample crisp arm hair, and his skin fairly rippled when Steve touched it, as if it were trying to get him to do it again. Steve’s blue eyes tracked that finger, then came up to study his face. Chandler did a little blushing of his own.

He was about to say something stupid—probably—when his cell phone rang. Steve laughed at his ringtone ’cause, yeah, it was the
Wonder Woman
theme—his mom’s idea… No time to explain. He grabbed his phone and stood up, making that dumb hand gesture that meant
I’ve got to take this
and walked to a place where it was quiet but he could still see Poppy.

“Hello?”