Kisses to Remember (2 page)

Alex’s father, Ted, lived in a cabin on the edge of Johanna’s property, and Kam saw him every day, but with a generation between them, it wasn’t the same as having a father around.

Certainly not the same as having a husband around.

Johanna had never pictured herself divorced and raising a son alone by the age of thirty-three, but here she was. Life was so unexpected. So unfair.

“Johanna?” Alex’s voice pulled Johanna out of her thoughts.

“Yes?”

“I asked if you figured out a design for that weird weed-pulling business.” Alex ran his finger along a scratch in the table’s silvery surface. The glide of his finger along the gouge hypnotized her for a moment.

“Um, yeah,” she said. “We settled on a dandelion with a noose around its neck.”

Alex laughed. Another sound that didn’t belong in this cinderblock room in this awful place. “I knew you’d come up with something fantastic.”

“Thanks.” Johanna managed a smile back.

Kam jumped into another tale and before Johanna knew it, the guard opened the door. “Time’s up, folks.”

As if there should be a time limit on family.

“You’re going to come on his birthday next week, right?” Alex raised hopeful eyebrows to Johanna.

“We’ll be here, Dad,” Kam answered.

Johanna was always amazed at Kam’s ability to overlook the atmosphere. He made it appear as if they were visiting over hamburgers and fries at a homey little diner. How did the kid do it?

“I’ll bring him by before his party.” Johanna ruffled Kam’s hair. Hey, it was already a mess.

“Can’t believe you’re going to be ten.” Alex squinted at Kam, hurt deep in his eyes as he thought of his son getting older. Johanna could barely digest that notion, and she got to see Kam every single day. What must it be like for Alex who was relegated to these thirty-minute check-ins once a week?

That familiar ache in Johanna’s chest made its regularly scheduled appearance.

“He wants to invite a girl to his party,” Johanna said as she and Kam stood.

Alex got to his feet as the guard edged closer. “Does he now?”

Kam’s cheeks pinked, and he checked his hands before shoving them into his pockets. “We’re just friends.”

“But apparently she’s pretty,” Johanna added.

“Mom, please.”

“Hey, if you’re going to grow up on us, Kam, we have the right to torture you along the way.” Alex gave Kam a hug, nodded to Johanna. “See you next week.”

“Bye, Dad.” Kam took Johanna’s hand again and gave her a little push toward the door.

“See you, Alex.”

As Johanna left, she tried to think of something besides the image of Alex standing there with the guard so close, so watchful, as if her ex-husband was a criminal.

Well, technically, he was.

****

“So the tires finally came in?”

Holden Lancaster bumped his head on the open hood of his rebuilt Camaro racecar at the sound of his best friend and co-pilot’s voice. For a guy well over six feet tall and built like a tank, Vaughn Bennett moved like a damn ninja.

“Can’t you, for once in your life, knock? Jesus.” Holden rubbed at the crown of his head, just under his thick crop of rusty brown hair. His fingers came away with a few droplets of blood. “Shit. You’ve made me bleed. Again.”

“Sorry.” Vaughn held up his hands as if he were surrendering. “Is it my fault you let yourself become consumed with rebuilding this thing?”

Holden let out a grumble and reached for the paper towel on the workbench in his garage. He blotted at the fresh wound, winced at the sting, then threw out the paper towel when the blood flow didn’t appear traumatic.

“You’ll live,” Vaughn said.

“This time.” Holden washed his hands at the shop sink and turned his attention back to the Camaro’s engine. He’d spent the week fine-tuning and now with the American Racing wheels, the car was almost ready for the track. The thought sent ripples of excitement through Holden. He’d had the body of the car custom painted solid black with deep, metallic red made to look like blood streaming along the hood and sides. Racecar meets vampire.

“This is definitely your sickest design yet, Hold. It kicks ass.” Whistling, Vaughn ran his hand along the glossy black paint until Holden slapped it away.

“Paws to yourself.”

Ignoring Holden, Vaughn opened the driver side door and sat behind the wheel. He rolled his eyes up and opened his mouth feigning an orgasm as he stroked the steering wheel. “Almost don’t need a chick with a car like this, cowboy. Almost.”

Holden closed the hood and wiped his fingerprints off with a soft chamois. He came around to the driver side to make sure Vaughn wasn’t touching anything he shouldn’t.

“Never thought I’d hear you say that. Isn’t a chick required for every hobby of yours?”

“Not required, just preferred.” Vaughn grinned and got out of the Camaro. “Seriously, dude, nice work. Hope you don’t crumple it your first time out on the track.”

That was always a possibility, but this Camaro was the fifth racecar Holden had rebuilt, and he hadn’t had the misfortune of crashing any of them. He’d raced them, sold them, then bought another to do the same, and he’d keep on doing it until he wasn’t fit to drive anymore. Probably when he was like eighty or so.

“So what are you doing here anyway?” Holden put his tools back into their assigned cases, boxes, or drawers in the garage, while Vaughn sat on the wooden stool Holden kept by his workbench.

“I don’t know. Bored, I guess. Wanna get some lunch?”

At the mention of the word “lunch,” Holden’s stomach growled. “Yeah, sure. What time is it?”

“Two o’clock.”

“Shit, already?”

“You have a pressing appointment?” Vaughn pushed to his feet and picked up a broom to sweep Holden’s workspace.

Holden held a dustpan to the pile Vaughn had swept and discarded the debris in a large, metal garbage can. “No appointment. I just didn’t realize I had chewed up so much of the day out here.”

“You’re like a mad scientist caught up in an evil plan.” Vaughn rubbed his hands together and darted his eyes around the garage.

“No, I’m not. I just want to get this car finished.”

“Yeah, and you’ll lose sleep over it, turn down social invites, forget to eat, never get laid, yadda, yadda, ya. See? Mad scientist with evil plan.”

Holden gave Vaughn a shove. “At least my hobbies don’t involve an unlimited supply of condoms.”

“Hey, sometimes it’s okay for your wanker to be in charge, Hold. You should try it some time.” Vaughn leaned against his pickup truck in Holden’s driveway. “Go change out of those grease-covered jeans and let’s get some grub.”

Ten minutes later, after a quick scrubbing off of grime trapped under his fingernails and changing into a fresh pair of jeans, Holden hopped into Vaughn’s truck. They drove the short distance to The Sweet Hut, Fort Worth, Texas’s home of truly superb muffins and other assorted confections, sandwiches, and coffees. Holden and Vaughn were regulars, often stopping in for a quick bite before a scheduled flight for Donovan Electronics, the company that employed them both as corporate pilots.

Vaughn opened the door, and Mara, The Sweet Hut’s owner and today’s resident chick behind the counter, smiled broadly when he walked in.

“Hiya, Vaughn. Nice to see you.” Her eyelids fluttered as she gazed at Vaughn.

“Howdy, Mara,” Vaughn drawled, slipping into a Clint Eastwood-esque persona.

“Holden.” Mara offered him a curt nod.

Oh, so I haven’t suddenly gone invisible
. “Hey, Mara,” he said, but her gaze was glued back onto Vaughn. This was why Holden preferred to hang around with racecars. Sure, he wanted to find someone nice, but he couldn’t figure women out, especially one that got all drooly over a guy who pretended she didn’t exist.

“You want a banana-nut muffin minus the nut?” Mara asked Vaughn.

“You know me so well, Mara.” Vaughn leaned against the counter closer to Mara, and Holden wondered if there was an assigned section of Hell for men who played with women the way Vaughn did.        

“I make them special, just for you.” Mara smiled seductively, and Holden wanted to shake some sense into her. All that wasted energy on Vaughn who would never see her as anything besides the chick behind the counter.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

Mara blushed, then looked at Holden, the love-struck glitter in her eyes completely dripping away. “What can I get you?”

“Grilled cheese and a Sprite.”
Same thing I always order when I come in here.
Holden shook his head and turned his attention to the rest of The Sweet Hut. He plunked down a few dollars and said, “I’ll go get us a table. Standing here is affecting my appetite.”

Vaughn shot him a snarl, but Mara was already back, lovingly packaging the special banana-nut muffins minus the nut and gazing at Vaughn with dreamy eyes while she worked.

Holden wandered off and settled at a booth by the front windows. Cars passed on the busy street outside, but he imagined the racetrack instead and his nearly finished Camaro tearing it up. Those streams of painted blood would catch the sunlight just right to look as if they were fresh and wet. The seat would cradle his body as he pushed the car to its limits. The tires would grip the track with an almost magnetic attraction, and Holden’s heart would get the adrenaline fix it so craved.

“Sweet.”

“Quit talking to yourself. You look like a moron.” Vaughn snapped his fingers in front of Holden’s face and slid the grilled cheese toward him.

“I wasn’t talking to myself.” Holden pierced a straw into his soda and grabbed a couple napkins from the dispenser on the table. Mara’s grilled cheeses were messy, triple-decker concoctions with four kinds of cheese and tomatoes. Things tended to slide out whenever Holden picked it up, but good God, it was a killer sandwich.

Vaughn let out a sigh of approval as he bit into his banana-nut muffin minus the nut. Holden paused and studied his friend.

“Why not her?” He motioned with his chin to Mara who helped a new customer but locked her gaze on the back of Vaughn’s head.

Vaughn swiveled his head around. “Why not who? Mara?

“Yeah.”

“She’s too…” Vaughn waved a hand as if trying to grab the right word.

“Nice?”

“Exactly.” Vaughn pointed a finger at Holden. “She’s not date worthy.”

“The girl goes out of her way to make you a banana-nut muffin minus the nut in hopes you’ll come in, and she’s not date worthy?” Holden put his sandwich down to wipe a bead of cheese off his pinkie finger.

“Look, Hold, a girl like that…” Vaughn threw a glance back to Mara who beamed at him. “She’s got a drawer full of sensible, cotton underwear. Most likely white.”

“So?” What was wrong with sensible underwear? You could trust a gal who wore sensible underwear, right?

“I’m more of a red lace thong kind of guy, you know?” Vaughn winked and took another bite of his muffin. For a moment, Holden wished there was a rogue nut in there.

“And that’s your problem.” Holden shook his head and slurped up a mouthful of Sprite.

“I don’t have a problem.” Vaughn wiggled his eyebrows at some women sitting at a nearby table. They sent him interested looks in return. Of course. Vaughn’s hazel eyes and sandy blond hair reeled women in like caught fish.

“Sure you don’t.”

“Sarcasm, be gone!” Vaughn shot a hand out toward Holden as if exorcising a demon. “What I have, good buddy, is a plan.” He tapped his temple.

“Right. The plan to get Sabrina.” Holden was all too familiar with Vaughn’s complicated mission to woo Donovan Electronics CEO, Sabrina Donovan. Honestly, the woman scared the shit out of Holden, and he couldn’t possibly imagine wanting to be with her, but Vaughn insisted he had to “conquer her.” His words.

“She barely acknowledges your existence.” Holden finished his sandwich and wiped the table where cheese had fallen in yellowy-white globs.

“All part of the game, cowboy. All part of the game.”

Holden hated games.

Before Vaughn could say any more, both of their cell phones rang. “Time to fly,” they said in unison.

Holden answered his phone, because Vaughn had just taken an oversized bite of muffin. On purpose.

“Lancaster.” Holden drummed his fingers on the table. A little grease had managed to camp out under his thumbnail so, wedging the phone between his cheek and shoulder, he folded a corner of his napkin to wipe it away.

“Holden, dear, where are you?” Sabrina’s voice dripped with something that made Holden feel squirmy.

“The Sweet Hut. Having lunch with Vaughn.”

“Super. You’re all fed and ready to fly then?”

“As always.”

“Wonderful. Get here ASAP. I need you to fly to San Diego and pick up some execs.”

“Roger that.”

“Love when you talk pilot, Holden. It makes me hot all over.”

Holden cleared his throat, grateful his buddy couldn’t hear Sabrina. She never came on to Holden in front of Vaughn, because she was well aware of his plan or his game or whatever. But when it was just she and Holden—and he tried to minimize those occurrences—she piled on the innuendos. If Holden didn’t love his laid-back schedule and flying the company’s King Air 350i so much, he’d probably have quit a long time ago over Sabrina’s…her…well, her harassment.