The Bad Boy's Dance (52 page)

              Brenda exhaled loudly. “Put on your shirt. I’m dropping you off back at the shop before I commit homicide.”

              Spencer obediently put on his shirt, but he wasn’t discouraged. He felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time, not since he’d discovered his career path. He felt
excited.
He felt challenged.

              And this time, it was more about the prize than the chase.

              Twenty minutes later, they were in her car and driving. Brenda darted peeks at him when she thought he wasn’t looking, and Spencer thrilled.

              He understood her hesitation. His reputation was working against him in this situation. Hell, she was a file in that particular report. Years ago, his parents had been in L.A and he’d told Ivy he was spending the night with some friends. In reality, he’d spent it with Brenda.

              He remembered the night clearly, because they had actually talked. There had been conversation, dialogue. She’d told him about some problems she was having with a couple of people at school, and he’d shared his fear that he’d never find a calling. Everyone in his family was always moving in a set direction while Spencer drifted. Brenda had understood.

              It wasn’t until they got to the mall (they’d been hoping with the abysmal weather and early morning, no one would find them) that the actual deed was done.

              Spencer licked his lips and clenched the door handle, trying to block the onslaught of images from their one interlude. He needed to keep himself in check if he wanted to prove to this woman he was serious about trying things with her. He wanted to see where it went, if their chemistry extended beyond the physical.

              “Shit!” Brenda cursed as the car lurched to the side. Spencer’s head hit the window as they came to a violent stop against the curb. He blinked back stars.

              “Oh my God, are you okay? Spencer? Say something!” Brenda panicked, scrambling to unfasten her seatbelt. Spencer shook his head, clearing away the fogginess.

              “I’m fine, I’m good. You?”

              “I’m okay. What happened?”

              Spencer climbed out of the car to determine the answer to that question, but there was no smoke or any indication of an engine malfunction. He walked a few feet away and studied the area. A flash of metal caught his attention. Squatting next to it, he assessed the small rusty pipe.

              “Found the culprit!” he shouted over his shoulder. Brenda’s brows furrowed.

              “The hell is that?”

              Spencer stroked his chin thoughtfully. “No damn clue.”

              “Whoa. All this manly speak is getting me hot and bothered.”

              “That sarcasm is just a defense mechanism for your overwhelming attraction to me.”

              “If you consider attraction synonymous to ‘revulsion’, then sure!”

              “You kids need a ride?”

              Both their heads snapped up at the new voice. A large truck driver with bright red cheeks and a cheery grin regarded them curiously.

              Spencer stood, casually pushing Brenda behind him. “Maybe a call to a mechanic.”

              The trucker chuckled. “I called. Someone’s on their way. In the meantime, how ‘bout I drop you off somewhere? It’s gettin’ late, and it would be unconscionable to leave y’all here alone.”

              “And how do we know you’re not a serial killer or rapist?” Brenda inquired, shoving Spencer to the side.

              Spencer  took in their surroundings while Brenda gave the trucker hell. They were about a block away from Darwin. It would be much easier to get picked up from there instead of a random side street. And hey, the guy couldn’t kill them both in the span of five minutes in a residential neighborhood.

              “Actually,” Spencer interrupted. “Could you give us a ride to Darwin High? It’s only a few blocks away.”

              “Spencer,” Brenda hissed. “This guy could be an axe murderer. We could just walk to the school.”

              “Hmm, free ride or physical activity?” he pretended to think. “Got it!”

              Grabbing her hand, he pulled her to the truck while she called him every name in the book. The trucker made an amused noise and climbed into the driver’s seat. Spencer grabbed Brenda’s shoulders and forced her to look at him.

              “Hey. Take a breath,” he ordered gently.

              With a frown, she obeyed.

              “It’s just a ride, babe. We’ll be fine. I think you’ve probably scarred the man for life anyway. I’ve got you, okay? I’ve got you.”

              Brenda leaned her forehead against his shoulder. “I haven’t done anything crazy since high school, and I was a complete bitch in high school.”

              “You weren’t too bad,” Spencer laughed, chucking her under the chin. She repaid his kind gesture with a swift punch to the rubs.

              “I was awful. You realize your sister hated my guts, right?”

              Spencer helped her into the truck and closed the door. He gave the trucker a thumbs up. “Yeah, I know.”

              Brenda squinted at him suspiciously. Spencer was just relived she wasn’t asking the driver for his medical history and mother’s maiden name.

              “You really think she’d be cool with it if we started something-which we won’t-and not kill you?”

              “It’s been like twelve years, Curtis. Ivy’s many things, but vindictive isn’t one of them. She’ll be too astonished with the fact that I’m actually
dating
someone to scrutinize the
who.
”

              “If you say so.”

              “We’re here.”

              They both jumped, having forgotten the driver’s presence. Darwin High loomed next to them, as badly painted and soul-sucking as always. Spencer helped Brenda to the ground before turning. “Thanks, man. Really appreciate it.”

              The truck driver shook his head with a perplexed expression. “You were always the wild card. Never would have predicted this twist, but it makes sense. In a way. Good luck with your sister-you’d better have a lot of moon cheese on hand.”

              Spencer’s jaw dropped as the trucker reached forward, closed the door, and winked. He watched him drive off, mystified.

              “Brenda…” he started.

              “What?” she muttered, scrolling through phone. “My friend’s gonna kill me.”

              “I think I just met Santa Claus.”

Paul

              “I can’t take this anymore! God, do you even remember the last time we had an actual
conversation
? I’m sick of this passive-aggressive bullshit, Annie!” Paul shouted, glancing at the house to make sure the curtains weren’t moving. He’d rather their neighbors see him arguing with his wife than his children.

              Annie knotted her hands in her hair and paced back and forth on their driveway. She looked up at him, hazel eyes full of anger and sorrow. “You think I don’t know that?” she gave an incredulous chuckle. “I miss you. We sleep in the same bed every night, and I still
miss
you, Paul.”

              He ran a hand down his face and sighed. “I’m gonna go over to Mom and Dad’s. I think we both need some time to calm down.”

              Annie’s bottom lip quivered. “But it’s Valentine’s Day.”

              God, the look on her face was breaking Paul’s heart, but he knew if he caved, if he spent the day with his wife, they’d end up the same way as always-fighting.

              “I know. I’ll be back tonight. Maybe we can, I don’t know, have a late dinner or something.”

              Annie swallowed thickly and schooled her expression into a blank mask. “If that’s what you think is best.”

              He didn’t know if it was best. When it came to his marriage, he didn’t really know anything anymore. Placing his hands on Annie’s shoulders, he kissed her forehead and closed his eyes for a second. Then he was moving, into the car and down the driveway.

              Annie watched the car disappear down the street, taking her heart with it. She’d held the tiniest hope that maybe this Valentine’s Day would heal her marriage, help get things back on track with her husband. But so far, all it had done was reignite the seemingly endless flames of resentment.

              “Mommy?” Annie glanced down at Quinn, her adorably puzzled five year old. “Where’s Daddy going?”

              Connor ran out of the house and grabbed his little sister’s hand, tugging her away. He was only ten, but smart enough to know when there was an ‘Adult Discussion’.

              “It’s okay, honey,” she reassured Connor, bending to pick up Quinn and kiss her chubby cheek. “Daddy’s going to Grammie’s and Grandpa’s house to see how they’re doing.”

              Quinn pouted. “But I wanna see Grammie and Granpa. Grammie promised cookies. But Grandpa put almonds in the gooey stuff and Grammie was mad and I got to watch T.V. Can I watch the princess show today?”

              As always, her daughter’s rambling helped lighten Annie’s mood. Connor was still watching her carefully, and Annie ruffled his hair. “I think Connor called dibs today. Maybe he’ll let you.”

              Connor was a sucker for his little sister’s sad face, so he ran ahead quickly. “No! Transformers is on today!”

              Quinn wriggled out of Annie’s arms and gave chase.

              Annie followed her children into the house and hovered in the doorway, gazing at the empty driveway.

              Maybe tomorrow.

              Meanwhile, Paul was starting to regret going over to his parents’ house.

              “Victor! I told you not to let Henry into the guest bedroom! You know that’s where I hide the cookie!” Mom shouted, dragging her chocolate-stained grandchild to the sink. Henry had a satisfied grin on his face as Mom lifted him to the faucet and proceeded to scrub his face clean.

              Dad shrugged, flipping through his newspaper. “Darling, you know he would have gotten in there one way or another. He has his father’s talent for raiding other people’s food.”

              Paul grinned as his ten year old nephew hopped onto a stool beside him and pretended to read the newspaper with his Grandpa. Henry was staying with Mom and Dad this week since Ivy was expected to go into labor any second, and they didn’t want to psychologically scar Henry by taking him to the hospital with them when Mommy pushed out his younger sibling.

              “Paul, honey, you never told us why you dropped by. Not that we aren’t happy to see you, but its Valentine’s Day. Shouldn’t you be with Annie? I actually expected to see Connor and Quinn dropped off,” Mom commented, sitting opposite him on the kitchen island. She distractedly pushed Dad’s slipping glasses up the bridge of his nose.

              “What’s your secret?” Paul blurted. “How have you and Dad been happily married for so long?”

              Mom was thrown, and even Dad flicked his gaze up from the newspaper. “What’s wrong, Paul?”

              There was still the matter of the ten year old at the table. Mom must have picked up on his reluctance, because she tugged Henry from the table and towards the T.V. “Here’s the remote, you can watch Transformers!”

              Henry cast a suspicious glance at his Grammie, but wasn’t about to pass up the offer of uninterrupted T.V. Mom returned to her seat and leveled her concerned gaze at her eldest son.

              Paul rubbed his neck and exhaled. “Annie and I…we’ve been fighting. A lot. Nothing important, just a bunch of stupid stuff. But it feels like there’s nothing
but
the stupid stuff anymore. She’s stubborn and can hold a mother of a grudge, and God knows my patience seems to be deteriorating year by year.”

              Mom reached out and grabbed his hand, cupping it in both of hers. “Paul, marriage isn’t easy, and it isn’t a smooth ride. But if two people love each other as much as you and Annie do, you can fix anything. Right now, you guys are focusing on the petty things to avoid something bigger. So think. What are you two not saying?”

              Paul gave a humorless laugh. “I’m the psychologist and I need marriage counseling from my mother.”

              Mom arched a brow. “A mother’s advice is never obsolete, dear. Now think.”

              Paul shrugged but obediently searched his memory banks for what might be the real reason he and Annie were fighting.

              “Think about when all the fighting started. Think about the trigger.”

              Paul’s brow furrowed in concentration. “I think it was a few months ago…we were supposed to go out for a late dinner. Annie hired a babysitter, got her makeup done, the whole enchilada…but I was exhausted from work. I came home, promised to make it up to her, and fell asleep. The rest of the week, I’d come home and try to take her out to dinner again, but she was pissed at me. I
tried.
I came home early for a week. What was I supposed to do? But yeah…that was when everything became a problem and things started falling apart.”