Dirty Thoughts - Megan Erickson Page 0,9
you fuck it up after I die, I’ll come back and haunt your ass.”
“Like you have a soul,” Cal muttered.
His dad’s lips twitched. “Heard that.”
“Didn’t whisper it.”
“I don’t want to deal with motorcycles. I don’t want them taking up room here—”
“Told you we could add on a special bay—”
“And we can’t spare your time. I need you for the cars—”
“We can hire someone else—”
“And I don’t want the clients, and I just don’t want to deal with it.”
Cal ran his tongue over his teeth. “I own part of this garage too.”
“Well, I own more.” His dad gave Cal his back and turned his attention to the drawer.
That was how his dad ended conversations. There was no politely wrapping up discussions in the Payton family. Nope. Why waste the words? Showing your back was much easier.
Cal walked away, tired of arguing anyway. Plus, Brent was singing again, and it was giving Cal a headache.
He stepped out back and lit up a cigarette. Payton and Sons was on the main drag of Tory, surrounded by strip malls, a couple of gas stations, a bed-and-breakfast, and a grocery store. Their garage had four bays, plus a small office and back room. Cal was proud as hell of the garage and, if he wanted to really be honest with himself, proud of his dad. Their mom, Jill, had devastated Jack when she left. She’d devastated everyone, really, leaving her family behind.
Other than Jack, her leaving had been hardest on Cal. He’d been six, so he’d remembered her more than Brent or Max did. He’d remembered what it’d been like when she was there. How she bought him and Brent matching pajamas every Christmas Eve. How she loved to laugh. So when she left and subsequently remarried out in California, he’d had something to miss.
Jack was a hard man to live with, but when she left him, she’d abandoned her sons too. And the only correspondence Cal got from her were cards signed, Love, Jill, on major holidays and his birthday. Which was more salt in the wound than anything.
Cal inhaled sharply. The cigarette helped to calm his nerves a little over the situation with his dad.
He’d finished his work for the day and gotten a call from a friend of a friend who was inquiring about motorcycle repair. Again, Cal was reminded that he wasn’t doing what he most wanted to do, which was repair bikes. Not that he didn’t like working on cars. He enjoyed that. But bikes were where his main interests lay. His dad couldn’t be persuaded to list the shop as a Harley-Davidson certified repair site.
They’d been having this argument for the last couple of years. It was déjà vu. And it had only gotten worse since Cal went out and got the certifications himself.
After he finished his cigarette, Cal spent the next hour completing paperwork in the office. He hated it and usually left it up to Brent, but he didn’t want to be in the garage with his dad, so he’d volunteered to do it. Childish, but whatever.
And he didn’t want them to know that he was nervous. He’d been anxious all day about whether he’d see Jenna. He’d had Brent call her to tell her the repairs and the price, to which she’d given the go-ahead.
If Dylan came to pick up his car, Cal would say as few words as possible to him and then ignore him as Dylan looked down his nose at Cal.
But if Jenna showed up—which was what Cal thought was going to happen—that was another story.
He’d thought about her all night, despite telling himself he wouldn’t. And in that odd conscious state between sleep and wakefulness, that was all his brain wanted to dwell on. Jenna. She’s been his first girlfriend. His first everything. He hadn’t thought about her in a long time, preferring to relegate all the MacMillans to a far recess of his brain.
They’d stayed there, right where he put them. Out of sight, out of mind. So much that he’d forgotten about them, and he’d taken it for granted. Because now Jenna was back and refusing to be locked back into that box. He’d have to work extra hard to get her there again when she left.
By closing time, she still hadn’t showed up at the garage. Jack left, and Brent asked Cal if he wanted him to stay. Cal waved him on home. He’d wait another half hour or so, and then he’d call Jenna.
He didn’t have to wait