Loner by Harloe Rae Page 0,6
wall of steel to avoid the blows. My armor isn’t bulletproof, though.
Patch rises in a protective stance, her eyes watching him like a hawk tracks a rabbit. A rumble of warning vibrates from her bulky form as she waits for my command. I give her a shrill whistle, swatting the air until she relents. She gives me a frustrated whine, but collapses into her bed.
“It’s disappointing to see you’re keeping that mangy mutt around.” He lifts a brow at my companion. She curls her upper lip, showing off a set of impressive weapons.
I rescued Patch from a kill shelter. Her reality was worse than grim when I found her. Feral and considered aggressive, she had never experienced kindness until I brought her home. Not much different from my own story. We’re kindred spirits, of sorts. “I’m grateful she tolerates me.”
My father crosses his arms. “She’s filthy, and probably has fleas.”
I don’t bother wasting energy responding to that. “Something I can help you with?”
“Sharron would like you to join us for dinner on Sunday.”
“And you couldn’t just call with the invite?”
“As if you’d answer,” he spits.
“For good reason,” I retort.
He stomps forward, narrowly missing a blob of grease on the concrete. I’m a little disappointed. “You’re such a little shit.”
I make a show of appraising my body. Nothing about me is small. Maybe I have him to thank for that. But my father will never hear me give him an ounce of credit. “Then why does your girlfriend want me around?”
“She’s trying to make us a family again.”
My responding chuckle is sharp enough to sting. “Good luck with that.”
“You need to show her respect. I’m planning to marry that woman.”
“Yeah? You’re a lucky man.” She’s after his money, no doubt. Why else would a bombshell thirty-something go after a man in his late fifties? Digging for gold.
“I’m glad you can be bothered to notice. She’s making me a better man.” He puffs out his barrel chest, as if that’s going to impress me.
“Highly doubtful,” I mutter.
His nostrils flare wide, the vision of a teapot billowing steam. “Remember who you’re talking to, son.”
“Gonna put me in my place?” I haven’t been intimidated by him since I hit puberty, and he knows it.
“Are you trying to force my hand?” My father paces in the far stall. His stride is stiff with the beginning stages of arthritis and pent-up aggression. He’s smart to remain a safe distance away from Patch. I won’t call her off a second time.
“Nah, I think we’re done.” I add an extra grunt, turning my glare toward the kaleidoscope of colors blasting across the horizon. Nothing beats the sunset from up here. A selling point for this plot of land—in addition to being off the beaten path—is the unobstructed view to the west. If I squint hard enough, a faint outline from the distant Rockies can be seen.
“You can’t get rid of me that easily.”
“No?” I pick up an oil-drenched socket set and begin scrubbing at the grime. A slither of glee tickles my spine when he glowers at me.
“Is being a grease monkey all that you aspire to be?”
I shrug off his thinly-veiled disgust. Opening Iron Throttle is the best decision I’ve made by a long shot. This place has kept me out of more trouble than I can count. I created this company from nothing but a pile of dusty ground Silo Springs is known for. But this man will never accept my choice of profession. “I’m not going anywhere, least of all the corporate world.”
“Your brother wised up and left this line of work. I’m waiting for you to do the same.”
His mention of Grant is a purposeful blow. I almost stagger from the impact. Thinking about my brother in this context is the equivalent to drilling a hole through my heart. We were thick as thieves, quite literally, as kids and teens. He watched out for me when my self-preservation scraped bottom. I wasn’t ambitious enough to achieve more. Making friends and creating aspirations wasn’t something I forced myself into. Goals were a waste of effort. All that mattered was ditching the punishing dictatorship of my father. But Grant cared enough for both of us. Until the day it all crashed down.
After a near-fatal accident his senior year of high school, everything blew up in a pile of disintegrated dreams. Grant gave up his grease rag for a five-piece suit and dear old dad couldn’t be happier.
Fuck him for throwing that painful piece of history at