a lean, mean, goddamn fighting…
The moment he put his arms around me, my knees buckled. I clutched the lapels of his jacket in two hands and held on for dear life. I imagined I stank from the sour jail cell, and any makeup I might have left was probably smeared across my face in a spectacular fashion. I didn’t care. His scent. His strength. His heat. It surrounded me, and I soaked it up like a greedy dry sponge.
He didn’t speak a word as he bent his knees slightly and scooped me up. My weight didn’t slow him down as he strode straight out of the station into the cold air, and he didn’t stop until he placed me in the cab of his truck. Owen heaved himself in the driver side while Garrett got in, effectively sandwiching me between two hard protective bodies.
“Hungry?” Owen’s barked question broke the silence.
“Yes, I should eat something.”
He pulled into Cook-Out on the right side of the double drive-thru so Garrett would order for us. The thought of a greasy burger made me a little queasy, but that was the quickest option.
Owen stayed silent.
“Thanks for coming to get me.”
He grunted.
“Um… thanks for the food, too.”
He nodded.
“Are you taking me home? I really want to take a shower.”
He nodded again.
Garrett broke into the conversation. “What he means is, you’re coming home with us. Beverly will have our hides if we leave you by yourself. Plenty of room at her place with them gone for the weekend. Lots of time to just chill and figure out what to do next.”
I tried to come up with a smartass answer or quip, but nothing came to mind. “I had no idea you were coming down for the holiday. Everything good in your world?”
Garrett gave a short laugh and looked out the front window at the strip of road illuminated by the headlights. “It will be.”
I let that cryptic answer go as we pulled into Bev’s driveway and into the backyard. Rain started to fall as we exited the truck. Not the pretty soft rain at the end of a romantic evening. Wet sheets of it came down in a hard, punishing rush that soaked us in freezing cold water before we got to the front porch. I remembered the forecast had said the whole weekend would be full of scattered thunderstorms and heavy rain. Fuck. The perfect ending to a super shitty day.
Muttface met us at the door with his excited barking. Garrett kept the food bags dry under his jacket and put them on the kitchen counter. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, what a gully washer, eh? I’m gonna go change real quick so you can have your shower time in the guest room.” His feet made clomping noises as he went upstairs, leaving me and Owen alone for a minute.
“Be back.” Owen’s muffled words came to me as he headed out the back door to his camper. Muttface followed him.
I guess that’s that. Not sure what else to do, I pulled off two paper towels from the hanging roll and blotted my face. I expected if I went into the powder room, I’d scare myself. I was sure my face was blotchy and swollen from so much crying. Puffy eyes, red nose, leaking sinuses… yup, tonight sucked big-time, but at least my ass sat in my BFF’s kitchen instead of in a jail cell. My eyes started up again at that thought.
Goddammit, Mel, stop this shit! Get your act together!
Owen came back in, still dripping water from his face and clothes, carrying a white garbage bag. “Sweats and T-shirt. Maybe big. Least dry.”
I had some spare clothes in the guest room closet, but Owen didn’t know that. The kind gesture made me want to wear whatever he brought me, even if it meant putting on a burlap sack.
Garrett came back down, rubbing a towel briskly over his longish ginger hair. “Ah, much better now. Food, then shower?”
As uncomfortable as my clammy cold clothes felt, hot food sounded better. The burgers and fries disappeared with little conversation between Owen and me. Garrett kept up the flow of words.
“Da’s over his head again. Booked a renovation at a pub up in Pennsylvania and didn’t check his manpower. Patrick and Angus are working the site, but they need more hands and they’ve already gone over budget. Patrick said the next two jobs have already cancelled, and there’s a third that is on the fence. We’ve been saying for years now,