Never Say Never (McLaughlin Brothers Book 3), Page 4

  Never having been to England, I have to take his word for it. Simon’s pleased with the car and very grateful to me for delivering it personally.

  “It’s why I like your dealership,” he says as we stand in his garage, looking over the Lamborghini. He’s built a two-story garage that’s larger than his house and has more security than a bank vault. “So many companies take your money and turn their backs. You are far more friendly.”

  Simon smiles as he speaks. He’s always pleasant, never going over the line to inappropriate. He simply likes to admire, tinker with, and drive great cars.

  “It’s a small local business,” I say.

  “And will be yours soon, I hear.” Simon beams at me. “Well done.”

  “Thank you.” I slide out my cell phone. “Well, I have to be getting back.”

  “Of course.”

  Simon is polite and friendly, even when he’s driving a hard bargain. I call Raymond, who tells me he’s with a client, and that I have to make other arrangements. I’m not surprised, and dial Mike.

  Mike says he’ll be here, and I hang up to find Simon lounging against his new car. “It’s a pity to ride around in a monster like this by myself.”

  Is it? “I don’t know.” I drop my phone into my purse. “I sure enjoyed driving it over here.”

  Predictably, I’d gotten a lot of stares, including from two small boys who were overawed. I’d waved at them, and they’d waved frantically back, not stopping until their mom turned the corner and took them out of sight. I’d also been propositioned three times. Sure you can handle that car, babe? Want me to handle you … I mean it … for you?

  I’d driven on without acknowledgement.

  Simon is studying me, his brown eyes softening. “Perhaps you and I could go for a spin sometime?”

  “Oh.” Okay, proposition number four. Except Simon isn’t leering or making suggestive comments. He’s phrasing it so I can turn him down, no big deal.

  I should say yes. Simon is good-looking, nice, filthy rich, and of course, owns great automobiles. It would be fun to drive around town with him or on the highways or back roads. He’s single—divorced a long time ago—and is somewhat shy. He’s not the type to hang out at a singles’ bar or do online dating.

  He’s also smart, well-read, likes good food and wine, and isn’t obnoxiously sexy. Or obnoxious in any way.

  Why does Austin spring into my head with the word obnoxious? I should forget about him. Austin and Simon do have in common their appreciation of wine and cars, but there the comparison ends. Simon is classical music while Austin is the latest pop. Simon is fine china and silver, dressed up even when he wears casual clothes. He’d never share a disgusting hot dog with me on a paper plate on the bank of the Salt River after a day of tubing, and he’d never dance naked, belting out tunes and making me laugh until I nearly fall out of bed.

  I don’t need Austin and his antics. He and I are like oil and fire—not a good combination.

  Simon would be cool water. Austin singes and burns. Simon would soothe.

  He senses my hesitation. “It’s all right. Just a suggestion.” Simon’s smile implies that I won’t hurt his feelings if I say no.

  “Oh, I …”

  Simon laughs, the sound quiet. “I said it’s all right, Brooke. You’re a beautiful woman. I have to try. Do me a favor. Think about it? Call me if you’d like. You know my number.”

  He’s so nice, so unassuming, that I want to say yes just to make him feel better. But would that be fair to him? Or to me?

  I have no idea. Maybe Simon’s right that I should think about it.

  I open my mouth to at least agree to giving it some thought, when a car rumbles down the street. It’s a gray Mercedes C 300, the same one that sat in our locked lot all night and unnerved me when I spotted it this morning.

  My heart bangs, my throat tightening. “Uh. I think that’s my ride.”

  “Yes, it seems to be.”

  Simon straightens up and walks with me out the open doors of the garage. He signals the car in, probably figuring it’s Mike behind the wheel.

  Austin pulls into the driveway, stops the car, and steps out.

  I feast my eyes on him. Simon, poor Simon, fades to almost nothing as the vibrant Austin moves toward us. His shirt, even dusty, brings out the blue of his eyes, and his hair is pleasantly rumpled.

  Austin gives me a cordial nod and darts his gaze into Simon’s garage, spying the new car inside. “Oh, very nice.”

  “Like it?” Simon indicates the Lamborghini. “This lady had to talk me into it, but I’m so very glad she did.”

  Simon sends me a fond glance, and Austin’s eyes tighten. “She’s trying to talk me into a Ghibli.”

  Simon makes an approving nod. “Those are nice. Move well. Take it out for a fast spin—really see what she can do.”

  “Good idea.” Austin’s gaze flicks to me, and I see he’s applying the she in Simon’s sentence to me.

  Typical. I really should blow off Austin and take Simon up on his offer. Then Austin smiles, and I know Simon doesn’t stand a chance.

  Austin shifts his attention to the other cars in Simon’s collection. “Is that a Lotus?”

  “Indeed, it is. Come in, I’ll show you. We haven’t met … I’m Simon Lethbridge.” He holds out his hand.

  “Austin McLaughlin.” Austin and Simon share a handshake.

  “McLaughlin. There’s a McLaughlin Renovations around here—I see their signs in my neighbor’s yards.”

  “That’s us. I’m a junior member. We work on many houses in this area. Bring them up to code without violating the restrictions on changing a historic property.”

  Simon lives in Encanto, an older patch of town with some houses dating back a hundred years and more. There are mansions in the neighborhood, but also many smaller homes, like Simon’s. I’m not surprised the McLaughlins’ services are used a lot.

  “How about a bottle of wine?” Simon says as he strolls into his garage. “To celebrate my new car. What do you like, Austin?” He peers at Austin as though testing him.

  “Can’t go wrong with a good pinot noir. Best grapes ever.”

  “Excellent.” Simon’s tone means Austin has passed his test. “Brooke? That all right with you? I also have a Riesling, chilled—good on a hot day.”

  “I shouldn’t drink at all. Have to work.”

  “Americans.” Simon shakes his head. “One glass of wine on your lunch hour won’t hurt you. You’ll not be downing the bottle.”

  “Thank you, but I really have to be getting back,” I say hastily.

  “Nonsense. A glass to toast a completed sale. I’ll just pop down to the cellar.”

  Austin’s eyes widen. “You have a wine cellar?”

  “I had it put in. It’s not much, only a space under the house, large enough to keep a decent stock on hand. I don’t collect—I just drink the stuff.” Shrugging, Simon slips out the back door of the garage, leaving it ajar. The garage is air-conditioned, but hot wind snakes through the open front doors.

  Austin watches Simon go in admiration. He turns to me, lips parted to continue the conversation, but I cut him off.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Austin doesn’t lose his grin. “Oh, nice. I drive all the way down here, and that’s how you greet me?”

  “I’m serious. I remember calling Mike, and Mike saying he’d be right over.”

  “Mike is trying to make a living. I’m on my lunch hour. What happens if Mike loses a big commission because he’s running an errand for you? If I’m late back, my mom snarls at me, but I stay an hour after, and she’s sweet again.”

  I wave my hands in exasperation. “Never mind. You’re just trying to mess with me again.”

  “Maybe. Plus I promised Mike I’d talk to you before I turned down the Ghibli.”

  I stop. “Wait. What? You don’t want it?”

  “Still thinking about it. It’s a lot of money to part with. That the best you can do? Wha
t about a friends and family discount?”

  “That is the friends and family discount.” Why am I having a hard time breathing? Oh, yeah. Austin makes me crazy.

  “Aw.” His voice goes soft. “You’re saying we’re friends. I like that.”

  His words evaporate my anger, and suddenly, I’m melting. Again. Damn it—how does he do this to me?

  “Here we are.” Simon wafts back inside with a bottle in one hand, three long-stemmed glasses in the other. “Have a corkscrew somewhere. Ah.”

  He sets the glasses on a trolley of tools, reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a corkscrew. Expertly, he removes the cork, pours a splash into a glass, and holds it out to Austin.

  Austin takes in the scent of the wine. “Nice nose. Great body too.”

  Does he glance at me when he says great body, or am I imagining that?

  Austin sips. His smart-ass look falls away and he gazes at the wine in true appreciation. “That is one superb vintage.”

  “I bought a case last time I was in France. Well, let’s drink up.”

  Simon fills each glass to the brim. I decide I’ll take a few polite sips, but the wine truly is remarkable. Most wines I drink are good—because why drink a bad wine?—but this one is extraordinary. I can taste the wind and sunshine, the sweetness of the grape, and the bite of the wood of its barrel. Terroir—the environment in which the wine is produced is called. Simon must have spent a wad on this bottle, let alone the case.

  Austin is effusive in his praise. “It’s like sunshine in a glass.”

  “Yes, it is rather nice, isn’t it?” Simon uses his typical understatement.

  “Thank you for letting me partake. It’s an honor.” Austin and Simon shake hands again. I barely stop myself telling them to get a room.

  I drink the entire glass, not wanting to let such a wonderful liquid go to waste. Austin drains his too but to my surprise refuses a refill.

  “I do need to return Brooke to her job,” he tells Simon. “We working people can’t drink wine all afternoon, much as we’d like to.”

  “I understand.” Simon pours himself another without apology. “Thank you again, Brooke. It was very nice of you to come out of your way to placate me.”

  “Not at all,” I manage. Austin is watching me, assessing.

  “First-class service. I shall give your business five stars on whatever that app is called.”

  “Not necessary.” My words emerge breathlessly. “Thank you so much for the wine.”

  “Oh … tell you what. Take a bottle with you.”

  “No.” I hold up my hands. “I can’t. Thanks, though.”

  “Don’t be silly. Wait a tick.” Simon’s out the door.

  “I really can’t accept it,” I tell Austin, a waver in my voice. “Raymond has a policy. He doesn’t want anyone accusing us of cutting a price because of an expensive gift.”

  “No problem.” Austin crosses to the back door, peering out as though trying to see how Simon gets to his wine cellar. “He can give it to me. I don’t work for Raymond.”

  “I—” I snap my mouth shut. Why am I arguing? What does it matter? Except, as I say, Austin makes me crazy.

  “One bottle of pinot noir,” Simon sings out as he enters the garage—Austin had retreated from the door. “A beautiful wine for a beautiful woman.”

  He hands the bottle to me. Austin, the shit, stands back, arms folded, and I have to take it.

  “Thank you. I really can’t—”

  “I do hate that word. Can’t.” Simon turns to Austin. “Tell her to enjoy it.”

  “I will. Thank you, Simon.” Yet another handshake. Austin peers wistfully at the Lamborghini then resolutely moves from it. “Great to meet you. Ready, Brooke?”

  I clutch the bottle while I shake Simon’s hand. Simon pulls me close and kisses my cheek.

  Austin’s eyes narrow at that, and his lips flatten, but he says nothing. He takes my arm to steer me from the garage, his fingers strong.

  Austin opens his car door for me. I tuck the wine into the back seat, covering it with a towel to keep it from the sun. Austin waits until I’m settled before he closes the door and retreats to the driver’s side of the car. He starts up, waves to Simon, who waves cheerily back, and Austin drives off.

  “Good thing he kept that kiss to your cheek.” Austin’s voice is a growl, his good humor gone. “I’d have decked him. Wine or no wine.”

  “He didn’t mean anything by it.” I’m fairly certain. “Excited about the Lamborghini, loosened up with wine.”

  “Huh.” Austin glances at me. “I know the look a man has when he wants to get into a girl’s pants. I saw it on Simon’s face.”

  “Into a girl’s pants? Are we teenagers?”

  “No matter what you call it, he wants it.”

  “You’re dreaming.”

  “Nope.” Austin relaxes as he turns onto Thomas and heads for Seventh Avenue. “I can see why you’d fall for him though. A garage full of fantastic cars, a wine cellar, with that laidback British thing going for him. Hell, I’d date him.”

  Austin pretends to be offhand, but I hear the tension in his voice.

  “There is nothing between me and Simon Lethbridge,” I say stiffly.

  Austin shoots me another glance. I can’t tell whether he believes me or not, but he says nothing.

  After a few blocks of silence, I venture, “Do you really not want the Ghibli?”

  “Not a question of wanting, love. It’s not like I’m a guy with a wine cellar and a garage full of luxury cars who can buy anything on a whim.”

  “You don’t need to be. You’re fine the way you are.”

  Austin turns his head to pin me with a stare before snapping his attention back to the road. His shoulders tighten and he grips the wheel.

  I hadn’t said the words to placate him or be condescending. Austin truly is fine the way he is. He’s not fake. When I’m with Austin, I know I’m beside the real person inside. He doesn’t put on a persona or a show. He really is the goof who dances naked in his bedroom, belting out a tune and shaking his ass.

  I smile at the memory. Austin darts his gaze to me and frowns. “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing. You don’t have to decide on the car today—and you don’t have to buy that car. Take all the time you need. We can order whatever you want.”

  “Yeah?” He leans back in his seat. “That does help. Thanks.”

  “We’re known for our customer service.”

  I say it in my businesslike voice, but Austin’s lips twitch. “I am not going to touch that.” He’s quiet for another stoplight then says casually, “That’s a great bottle of wine. Made for sharing. Want to?”

  “ …” I meant for a sound to come out of my mouth, but only a squeak emerges.

  “Is that a yes?”

  “I have to work,” I blurt. “You keep the wine. I told you I can’t accept it.”

  “I mean after work. We can take it to your house, or mine. Just to talk, I promise, and enjoy the pinot, like it should be enjoyed. Like we did last night.”

  Last night—sure. The talking had been fun. I’d let myself be at ease with him. Then I’d kissed him. My lips still tingled from it.

  “I … uh.”

  “Forget it.” Austin’s brows slam together. “I thought maybe we could be friends again, but I guess we can’t.”

  He turns the corner onto Camelback, and not long later, he’s circling the block to reach the back door of the dealership.

  My heart is pounding when I step out of his car, my chest aching. I want to be friends with him too—Austin and I had wonderful times together. But I know he’s right. The minute we try, our instincts will want to take things further, and we’d end up hurting. Like I am now.

  I expect Austin to tear off back through the gates as soon as I’m out, but he parks and climbs from the car.

  “I’d like to look at the Maserati one more time,” he says to my stunned face.

  “Sure. I’ll just �
�� um … keys …”

  “I’ll wait.”

  I scuttle toward the showroom, fumbling with my purse and tottering on my heels. Sweat from the merciless sun runs down my face, ruining all the makeup I’d carefully applied.

  What is happening to me? I’m always dignified, poised, together—until I’m around Austin. He is so, so bad for me.

  I feel him behind me, and I turn. He’s leaning on his car, arms folded, sunglasses fixed on me. The heat doesn’t bother him at all—he’s cool and calm, like I should be.

  But I never will be calm as long as Austin is watching me, and still feel his hot kisses on my lips.

  Austin

  “Austin! That really you? Great to see you.”

  A large man emerges into the lot from the showroom after he holds the door for Brooke. He stops her, hugs her, and kisses her cheek, but this doesn’t bug me the way it had when Simon had done the same thing.

  The man is Cedric Marsh, Brooke’s older brother.

  As Brooke rushes inside, Cedric strides toward me, his warm laugh as big as the rest of him. Cedric claims to be all thumbs when it comes to sports, but if I managed a football team, I’d sign him to simply stand there and intimidate the opposing side.

  Cedric catches me in a bear hug. I can’t breathe, but I’m glad to see him. I thump his back, and he lets me loose.

  “How the hell are you?” he booms. “I was in the area and thought, why not stop by and say hey to my baby sister? And here you are. You two together again?”

  His brown eyes are hopeful, but I have to disappoint him. “Nope. I’m buying a car. Well, maybe buying it. If I sell everything I own and all my blood and a few organs.”

  “Ha. Yeah, they’re pricey. It’s an investment, though, and not just something you drive to work.”

  That’s true. Like a rare wine meant for display instead of drinking, or great artwork.

  “I’m also trying to convince Brooke to share a bottle of wine with me,” I hear myself say. “Can you give me any help?”

  “I’d love to, but I’d like my skin to stay on the outside of my body.” Cedric shakes his head. “She is one stubborn woman, my sister. I hope you convince her. She was better when she was with you. Know what I mean?”