Home > The Fix (The Carolina Connections #1)(10)

The Fix (The Carolina Connections #1)(10)
Author: Sylvie Stewart

“Listen here, you misogynistic prick.”

Contrary to everything I’m sure I was expected to feel at that point, my dick rose to attention (“You called?”).

“You can’t stand here making your half-assed assumptions and treating us like we’re some brainless little fairies flitting around all day with nothing better to do than take a crap on you and your macho-man bullshit.”

Yup, still sporting wood.

“We are all homeowners on this street who have a right to know what is happening in our neighborhood.”

She wagged her index finger in my face and I wanted to bite it.

“We take the safety of our children and families very seriously, as well as the value of our homes in which we have invested our hard-earned money—”

God, she was in my face now and I could see the dark ring around her flinty gray irises. Would they be the same shade when she was under me?

“Money we’ve made doing real work the same way you do, and I will not stand here and let you treat us like we are somehow less than you and your precious crew while you wave all your big muscles around and beat your chest!”

Big muscles? Now we were getting somewhere.

“Now,” she commanded, “you will apologize to Charlotte for jumping down her throat and you will address our concerns in a tone that smacks a little less of arrogant dickhead.”

If I didn’t get her out of here I was either gonna kiss her or drop down on my knees and beg her to marry me. I had to find an exit strategy—fast.

“What did you say your name was again?” I asked.

“Laney.” Her right hand suddenly rose and cradled her cheek.

“Your full name.”

She swallowed. “Laney Monroe.”

“Monroe.” I felt the name on my tongue and kept my eyes glued to hers. “She belong to you, kid?” I yelled out to Gavin just so I could watch her eyes light up with rage again. God, this girl was smoking.

“I don’t belong to him!” Her hand dropped and her voice exploded with indignation. “God, you really are an asshole, aren’t you?”

There was no arguing with that one.

With that, she turned and I got to watch the show as her perfect ass strutted away toward Gavin and the kid on his shoulders.

“Come on, Charlotte. We’re done here!” To me, she shouted, “This is not over!” And all three of them headed out. I continued to watch the show, noticing Gavin glancing worriedly back at me a few times. He appeared to be arguing with her. With Laney. I couldn’t blame him—that was the most fun I’d had in weeks.

Ten minutes later, with most of the crew in attendance I saw Gavin Monroe approaching, this time without the little kid and the hot girl.

“Nate, I am so sorry,” he began. “My sister can be a little hot-headed sometimes but I talked to her and I promise she won’t be bothering you anymore, I swear—”

“That’s your sister?” I cut him off.

“I know, right. She’s a pain in the ass.”

I just nodded, not sure Gavin would appreciate anything I had to say about his sister’s ass. “Don’t worry about it,” I threw back at him. “Go see Doug. We’ve gotta get things moving here.”

And I would definitely need to carve out a little time in my schedule for a rematch with one Laney Monroe.

“No, Mark, my dad won’t want to collect electric trains as his new hobby. And if you like your nuts where they are you’ll mind your own business and tell Bailey to keep her gaping pie-hole shut from now on.” I said to the moron on the other end of the line. Mark and I were pretty good friends but sometimes I seriously questioned his level of common sense.

It was Friday evening and I was standing on Gavin Monroe’s front porch, having gotten his address from his employee file and hoping to catch his sister at home. I had yet to ring the bell when Mark called and I’d picked it up assuming, who knows why, that he was calling about actual work. Turns out Bailey had let him in on the search for Riordan Murphy’s new hobby and he couldn’t resist getting in on the action.

“Why not? I could get him one of those train engineer hats.” He guffawed.

“Two things, Mark. One, you do know that even with a bum heart my dad could beat you into the ground, right? And two, don’t even think of letting him or my mother get the barest wind of this conversation. The goal is to lower his blood pressure, not elevate it. And, besides, Bailey and I are family so he can’t kill us. Just think about where that leaves you.”

“You’re no fun, man. I’m calling Bailey to swap ideas instead,” he complained.

See? No common sense. “You go right ahead, man, but don’t come crying to me when he turns you into a eunuch. Later, Mark.”

“Later.” He hung up and I turned to ring the doorbell.

However, the door was already open.

“If you’re looking for Gavin, he’s not here. He’s probably at Jake’s shooting pool. You should try there—I hear it’s a pretty male-dominated crowd—hardly a woman in sight, so you should feel right at home.” Laney gave me a fake-ass smile and started to close the door but I stopped it with my foot. Her expression changed to a glare.

“Whoa, hold on there. I’m actually here to see you.” She didn’t try to break my foot right away so I continued, “I wanted to apologize.”

Her look turned suspicious. “Apologize?”

“Yes. You were right. I was an asshole.”

“And have you directed this apology to Charlotte as well?” One hand went to her hip.

Oooh, she was a sharp one. “I will as soon as you give me her address. Can I come in before the neighbors start calling the cops?”

After a few moments she opened the door a touch. “I guess. But you have to act like a normal person. I have company and my son is here.” Ah, so the little kid was her son, not Gavin’s. But she didn’t have a ring, I’d noted earlier. Still, I reminded myself to tread carefully. She stepped aside and left the door open for me. I followed her into the house and closed the door behind me. The doorknob fell off into my hand. Huh? I looked at her questioningly. She looked at my hand.

“Oh crap,” she said and grabbed the knob from me while pushing the door to rest in a position that was mostly closed.

“You’re worried about my building threatening your kid’s safety and your front door doesn’t even close?” I couldn’t resist.

Her hand shot to my mouth and covered it. “I thought you were here to apologize,” she hissed.

I was too distracted by the effect her touch had on me to respond. Her warm hand stayed over my mouth a few seconds too long as her eyes rose to meet mine.

Could she feel that too? Apparently so, because the next second her hand dropped like it had been burned, and then both of her hands went to her cheeks and started running up and down over the sweet little freckles I’d just noticed. Sweet little freckles? What was I now, a girl?

She turned her back and hurried from the entryway. I couldn’t do anything but follow.

It turns out we were headed into the kitchen where a very petite blond woman stood at a stove that was older than dirt, stirring something in a pot. The little boy from yesterday, who I now knew was Laney’s son, was sitting at a blue table with a pile of Legos in front of him. He wore a gray t-shirt with a yellow chick on it and the words “Chicks Dig Me.” Just under the sleeve of the shirt I could see one of those stick-on tattoos but I couldn’t tell what it was supposed to be. I liked this kid already. I could work with this.

“Nate, this is my friend Fiona and my son, Rocco.” Laney did the introductions, one hand still holding her cheek.

Oh shit, a thought suddenly occurred to me. Were these women a couple and this was their son? I was usually so good at spotting signals and I could have sworn Laney was into me, even if she didn’t want to be.

The woman named Fiona whirled around, clearly not expecting a strange man to appear in the kitchen. She looked me over and I can tell you she was not shy about her head-to-toe perusal. I was beginning to feel a little violated, she was so thorough. Okay, so totally straight—that was a relief.

“Fiona, Rocco, this is Gavin’s boss, Nate Murphy. Rocco, say hello to Mr. Murphy,” Laney gently directed.

“Nate. Nate’s fine. How’s it going, Rocco?” I waved to the kid. “Nice tattoo. Did you get that in prison? I’ll bet it kills with the ladies.”

Crickets.

“Five-year-olds don’t really get sarcasm,” said Fiona, leaning toward me and offering her hand.

“Oh,” I said stupidly as I took it. Fiona couldn’t have been more than about 5’4” and she was wearing sky-high heels, so her actual height was probably closer to an even five feet. She had light blond hair and a tiny face to match her tiny body. She was cute in a spunky kind of way, but was a complete contrast to her bombshell of a friend.

“So, Nate, I hear you’ve been stirring up some trouble in the neighborhood,” Fiona led with a wink.

“Oh no,” Laney interjected, “none of that. Nate is just here to apologize for yesterday and then he’s going to be on his way.” She had lost her slightly frazzled demeanor and was back in command.

“No!” Fiona argued and looked beseechingly at me. “You have to stay for dinner. I’m making penne with a fabulous tomato cream sauce and meatballs for my main man over there.” She tipped her head toward the table where Rocco still hadn’t acknowledged my presence and was busy building a Lego structure. “You’ll love it!”

While the two women silently communicated in a series of indecipherable facial expressions and hand gestures, I accepted the invitation before it could be revoked. “Sounds great!”

“Are you the man with the construction trucks?” Rocco spoke his first words to me ten minutes later. We were all seated at the hideous blue table over bowls of admittedly delicious pasta. Fiona could cook.

   
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