Page 10

Lizzie—

The next morning, I finish organizing the office and do a deep clean with some products I brought from home. I realize the frosted window is actually a window cling, and I pull it off, revealing clean glass, at least on this side. The outside is a different story. Grabbing a spray bottle of cleaner and a rag, I walk into the garage, but only see Rob, with his head under the hood of a car.

“Rob, do we have a stepladder?”

He points at a far wall. “Over there.”

“Thanks. Where’s Darko?”

“Ran out for a second. He’ll be back soon. Need anything?”

“No, I’m just going to clean the outside of my office window.”

“Be careful. Ground’s probably uneven on that side of the building.”

“I’ll be fine.” I grab the stepladder and head outside.

About fifteen feet separate the garage from the building next to it, all of it dirt and overgrown weeds. Trudging through them, I’m thankful I’ve got jeans on, but my wedge sandals are ill-suited for the job.

I find the window and position the ladder against the brick, then climb up and get to work. The outside is gross, and it takes more elbow grease than I thought it would. I’m out there for a long time before I finally finish, scrubbing one last spot.

“What the hell are you doing?”

The voice is so close behind me that I flinch and lose my balance.

Suddenly, two big hands are on my waist, locking me in place.

I crane to look and come face-to-face with my boss. Well, not exactly face-to-face. It’s more like his face to my ass, and that’s exactly where his eyes are.

“You scared the shit out of me,” I squeak, and his gaze lifts to mine.

“You shouldn’t be on a ladder in those shoes.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my shoes. I was fine until you barked behind me.”

“I didn’t bark.”

“Sounded like it to me.”

“Come down from there.”

“I’m almost finished.”

Apparently, he doesn’t like my answer, because a moment later, I’m lifted off my feet and set on the ground.

“Hey,” I squeak. “Watch it.”

“Last thing I need is you falling off a ladder, woman.”

“Oh, my God. I was two feet off the ground. What? Are you afraid I’ll file a workman’s comp claim or something?”

“No, actually. I’m afraid you’ll hurt yourself. You want the window cleaned, say something. I’ll get it done.”

“It’s done now.” With my spray bottle in one hand, I grab the stepladder with the other and head inside. I don’t make it two steps before he grabs the ladder.

“I’ll take that. Go.”

As I stride between the buildings, I can’t help glancing over my shoulder, to again catch his eyes locked on my ass.

When we get inside, I whirl on him. “What is your problem?”

“I don’t want you falling and getting hurt. Does worrying about my employee make me an ogre or something?”

His response deflates some of my anger. “I wasn’t going to get hurt.” My tone is much softer.

He drags a hand through his hair. “I appreciate your efforts around here, but you don’t have to do everything. Just tell me you want the damn window cleaned, okay?”

He’s more agitated than he should be, and I frown. “Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine. Just trying to keep up with everything.”

He doesn’t elaborate, so I return to my office. I’m at my desk, opening the mail and separating it into piles to be taken care of when Darko appears in the doorway and leans against the frame, his hands in his pockets.

We stare at each other for a moment before he speaks.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you. You don’t deserve it. I’ve had a lot on my mind, but that doesn’t excuse me taking it out on you.”

“It’s okay. We’re good.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

His head turns toward the window. “It’s much better without the frosted film, isn’t it? I should have taken it off a long time ago.”

“It lets in a lot more sun,” I murmur.

He looks around the office. I replaced the old calendar with a picture I brought from home. It’s one I’d found at a garage sale. It’s been in my closet for years because I’d never found a place for the pretty watercolor of the ocean. On the desk is a small cactus I also brought from home.

“I like the changes you’ve made. I never gave much thought to this office.”

“Well, at least your customers don’t see it.”

He nods toward the front entry. “You dusted the front and replaced those old magazines.”

“I found some new issues in the pile of unopened mail, so I set them out.”

“Thanks.” His eyes skate over my face and down.

I’m wearing a pair of ripped jeans and an old Johnny Cash t-shirt that belonged to Matt. It’s big on me, but I’ve got it tied in a knot at my waist.

“You a Man in Black fan?” He lifts his chin to the shirt.

I don’t want to explain about Matt, so I shrug. “Who isn’t?”

“Right. Oh hey, I’ve got some Royal Restoration shirts and tanks if you want one. They’re in the bottom drawer of that filing cabinet. At least, I think that’s where I stuck them.”

“I’ll check before I go home tonight.”

He straightens. “I’ll let you get back to work.”

“Okay.”

Instead of walking out, he approaches me and lifts a hand to my hair, pulling a stray twig from it. “Guess you brushed against the tree out there.”

It’s an intimate gesture, and I lick my lips. His eyes drop to my mouth.

“Thanks,” I murmur.

He smiles. “No problem.”

Then he winks and walks out.

My heart is racing, and I release a slow breath. Get a grip, Lizzie. He is your boss. He’s not Matt. You are not supposed to be attracted to him.

But I am. Big time.

A little before 4pm, Eli shows up, and I watch through my open door as Darko wipes his hands on a rag and greets him.

The boy seems down in the dumps, and I remember the grief he’s dealing with. Losing Matt has been hard enough. I can’t imagine losing a mother at such a young age.

I return to my work, sorting through invoices, and come across one that’s handwritten from some auto supply company. I can’t make it out and walk into the garage to ask Darko.

Rob leans over a car, but Darko and Eli are nowhere in sight.

“Rob, have you seen Darko?”

He lifts his chin toward the alley, and I notice the door is ajar.

Stepping closer, invoice in hand, I pause when I hear their conversation carry to me.

“…you need to recognize those feelings of anger are perfectly valid. And while I can’t begin to pretend to understand the depth of your pain, I do know everything you are experiencing is normal, and more importantly, you will be okay.”

Through the window, I see Darko pull a small book from his back pocket and hold it out to his son.

“I know it’s hard for you to talk about this stuff, but you could write it down. No one has to see it but you. I promise.”

Eli takes it and thumbs through it, and I see it’s a small journal with lined note pages.

“Don’t be afraid to feel the grief,” Darko says. “Don’t try to shove it in a box and bury it deep inside you. It is important you mourn the loss of your mother. Her life was significant, and your relationship with her was the most important one in your life. No one wants you to brush the grief aside. And me trying to keep you busy or involved in school or basketball, Eli, that’s only me trying to take your mind off the pain, not to deny it exists. Understand?”

Eli nods, and Darko puts his arm around his son, pulling him close.

I step away quietly and return to my office, lowering to my chair, the invoice forgotten in my hand.

Darko’s words hit home, much closer than I expected. I feel like I’m sinking, like an anchor tossed overboard, descending into the dark fathoms all the way to hit the bottom.

Just like that, I’m weeping, overcome by dark heaviness.

The door creaks, and Darko pokes his head in. “Rob said you were looking for me.” When he sees me crying, he frowns and steps inside, closing the door.

“Babe, what’s wrong?”

I shake my head.

“Tell me, please.”

“I overheard you talking to your son.”

Without another word, he pulls me to my feet and takes me in his arms, his warmth and strength enveloping me in a cocoon.

I sob into his shoulder uncontrollably, my tears wetting his t-shirt. He strokes my back while I cry it out, letting me feel the pain until I’m beyond it.

Somehow, I ascend from that murky dark water to the surface again and drag in a deep breath.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” he murmurs against my head. He pulls back to look at me, cupping my face and brushing a tear with his thumb. “Okay?”

I nod, and he takes my hand, leading me into the garage.

“Rob, keep an eye on Eli.”

“Sure thing, boss. I’m teaching him how to pull a carburetor.”

Darko tosses a credit card on the car’s trunk. “Get some dinner for the two of you. I may be a while.”

“No problem.”

“Thanks.” Darko leads me by the hand to the parking area, where his motorcycle is parked. He squats and pulls his cut from a saddlebag and shrugs it on.

He transforms right before my very eyes.

“Where are we going?” I whisper.

“For a ride.”

The motorcycle is black and sleek and sexy. “I’ve never ridden before.”

His helmet hangs from the handlebars, but he reaches for a second one stashed in the saddlebag. Setting it on my head, he straps it under my chin, and I watch his face.

He’s close—so close I can breathe in his scent. It’s leather mixed with some brand of soap that I find intoxicating.

His eyes connect with mine. “Do you trust me, Lizzie?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He swings a leg over and lifts the big bike off its kickstand, firing it up. “Climb on.”

I settle behind him, my sandals finding the foot pegs, and wrap my arms around him. I press close against his back, and just like that, I feel like I’m home. Like I belong right here. Like I’ve always belonged right here. It’s weirdly déjà vu.

He takes my hands and adjusts them, wrapping them tighter around him with a final warning. “Hang on.”

Then we’re roaring out of the parking lot, headed God knows where.

And I don’t even care.

The wind hits my face, and the motorcycle vibrates beneath me, surging forward as he twists the throttle.

His left hand comes off the grip to settle on my thigh and squeeze, and it’s almost like a signal that he’s got me.

I feel completely safe with him.