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A ring would actually be a little better, Tildy thought, as she snagged an apple out of the fruit bowl. She could quit the bank and volunteer more at the Community Center as they started their family. Surely Tate would turn into a mini-version of her father: a workaholic, hardly at home, an idea of a husband rather than a real one. Unlike her mother, Tildy would actually enjoy spending her nights alone.
Upstairs, she stowed the necklace and changed for dinner. Her parents arrived home at the same time, despite the fact that they took two separate cars. Tildy wondered how long it would be before they had separate bedrooms. Thankfully, she’d be out of the house before that happened.
At the table, her hopes of finishing quickly and without incident were soon dashed when her father asked, “How’s the car?” Tildy’s mother paused over her plate as well.
“Car?” Deirdre asked.
Tildy kept her face blank. “Fine,” she told him. “It’s working fine now.”
Deirdre frowned. “What’s wrong with the car?” she asked.
This forced Tildy to say, “Nothing,” and that was skirting dangerously close to arguing.
“Apparently, there’s a problem with it,” her father declared.
Tildy’s mother’s eyes narrowed. “You didn’t mention anything,” she told Tildy.
“Well, now it has to be checked out at the dealership by a real mechanic,” her father declared.
Tildy almost pointed out that Hawk was a real mechanic, but she thought better of it since she wasn’t supposed to know him personally. Deirdre sighed. Tildy stiffened. “I can take care of it,” Deirdre told her husband.
He shook his head. “No. I’ll do it. I want to make sure it gets done right this time.”
The glare Tildy got from her mother made it clear that Deirdre considered this exchange with her husband to be too close to arguing, and, if there was one thing Deirdre Fletcher did not do, it was argue with her husband.
After dinner, Tildy’s mother busied herself by chasing Tildy’s father through the house in an attempt to fetch him anything he might need. Just like a faithful dog, Tildy thought.
It was too bad Blake Fletcher never concerned himself with things like fidelity. He might have appreciated her efforts. Tildy escaped to her room where she was all but forgotten about for now. The weekend would come soon enough, and then she’d have to make herself scarce.
Chapter 16
Hawk was diligently trying to finish up a fuel line before 5 o’clock, because it was Friday. The night before he’d actually managed to win a few hands at Shooter and Slick’s place, mostly because the women were in the kitchen, where Slick was attempting to teach Vegas how to make a peach pie. If either of those two females got near the cards, then you might as well pack it in before you lost your shirt. And your pants. And your boots. And quite possibly the Harley you rode in on.
Hawk was feeling good about taking his brothers’ money, when his cousin rambled into the lot in his truck. He scowled and set the coupler down. Shooter raised his eyebrows, but Hawk shook his head. “I got it,” he told his boss.
“You sure?”
Hawk nodded and started off across the lot where Garrett was getting out of his rig.
“Hey!” Garrett said, grinning.
“Garrett,” Hawk replied cautiously.
Garrett looked around the lot and at the garage, nodding to himself. “Nice,” he said. “Real nice.”
Hawk rubbed the back of his neck. “You need some work done?” He could pay for Garrett’s parts if needed and work off the clock for free labor.
Garrett shook his head. “Nah, man. Don’t need work done. Need work.”
Hawk sighed. “It’s a small garage,” he told Garrett.
“Looks like everyone’s working.”
“Yeah,” Hawk agreed. “But we don’t have enough work for any other mechanics. And besides…you aren’t a mechanic.”
Garrett waggled his eyebrows. “I learned,” he said. “Time off for working in the prison garage.”
“Garrett-”
“Now, look,” Garrett interrupted, finally losing his jovial demeanor. “You owe me. And I’m trying to go straight here. And you do for family, right?” He looked beyond Hawk at the garage. “Unless you forgot who your family really is.”
Hawk bristled. “They are my family!”
“They’re nothing!”
“I served with them!”
Garrett stepped closer. “And I served for you!”
Hawk was silent for a moment, unable to contradict the truth. “My boss…” he replied. “He’s a good guy, but he isn’t going to hire a felon, Garrett.”
“You mean he only hires felons who haven’t been caught.”
“Hawk?”
He turned and saw Shooter behind him. Damn, the man was still stealthy. Few people could sneak up on Hawk.
“Hey,” Garrett said, his grin returning. “I was just asking my cousin here if you had any openings.”
Shooter smiled politely. “Sure don’t, sorry. Barely pay the kid who sweeps the floors.”
Garrett remained firm. “Maybe Hawk and I could split it on payday. If-”
Hawk shook his head. “No.”
Garrett glared at him.
“I already give Raina and the kids a cut,” he explained.
