I love all that stuff, but the best part is my little apartment. My dad hates it. He worries it isn’t safe enough. He offered to buy me a condo in one of the new complexes that he just sold. But I want to pave my own way and make it on my own. Thankfully, with my card company, I am.
The tea kettle whistles and I pour the steaming water into my mug of Earl Grey tea. Then I carry it over to my desk and pull out a fresh sheet of cardstock.
I may not have left Moxon on the best of terms tonight, but tomorrow, I won’t arrive at the auto shop empty-handed.
I’ll make him the thank you card he deserves.
7
MOXON
Fuckin-A.
The moment I peel out, I know I’m an idiot.
Millie is not the kind of woman you leave on the side of the curb. She’s the sort of woman you walk to the door and give a kiss on the cheek good-bye. The kind of woman you call the next day.
Instead, I treated her like every other woman I meet.
I’m a goddamn fool.
Millie is nothing like the rest. She is fucking everything.
Way too good for me, sure, but damn, maybe she’s the kick in the pants I needed. I’ve been acting like a fool for way too long, maybe it’s time I get my shit in order and become a real man.
Millie may have been teasing about the kind of man she wants-- the picket fence and 401k--but I think there was some truth in her jokes. At the end of the day, no woman wants a man who can’t provide and take care of his family. A woman wants a man who is committed, one who has his priorities straight and who can be counted on.
I sure as hell have a few things to do if I want this woman to be mine.
And I do.
This ain’t just my cock talking. This is my heart.
***
The next day, the shop is busy as it ever is. When I walk in, there Millie’s classic Beetle sits. The hood is open, and my brother Mike is staring down at it.
“Crazy huh?” Mike asks.
I know just what he means. “I know. The car made me do a double take.”
Mike and I share a knowing look, but then we turn back to the engine at hand.
“It’s not just the timing belt. The carburetor is fucked too,” he says, screwing back on the oil cap and then wiping his hands on a rag. “It’s gonna take a day or two to get the parts, then a few more to have it back up and running.”
I run a hand over my jaw. “Want me to call her and let her know?”
Mike shakes his head. “Nah, I already asked Tammi to call. Got the owner’s number from her insurance card in the glove box. But Tammi said it was a landline. Didn’t even know people had those anymore.”
“Huh. Okay.” Of course, I wanted an excuse to call her, hear her voice. Maybe apologize for all the sex I’ve had the last ten years, but I don’t really want to call unless I have something to say beyond telling her I’ve deleted Tinder from my phone.
“What, you wanted to be the one to call her?” Mike asks, walking over to the break room. I follow him.
“Maybe,” I say, pouring us both coffee. Handing him a paper cup, I lean against the counter. “She was something else, Mike.”
“Something good or something bad? Because with you and women it’s usually bad.”
“Hey,” I say, scowling into my cup of black coffee, feeling as bitter as the fucking coffee over not ending things better with Millie last night. For the first time in my life, I want to get my act together. Be the kind of man Millie would take home to meet her father.
“It’s the truth,” Mike says. “Least it has been since Mom died.”
I lift my eyes. “Like you should talk. You’re the polar opposite of me but that doesn’t mean that’s any better.”
Mike shrugs, not needing to say anything more about the fact he hasn’t been on a date in years. “I can’t go fucking up my life.”
“That’s because you have Louisa.”
“Fair enough. I have someone to worry about, a five-year-old daughter who’s counting on me.”
“Is she with you or Lesley this weekend?”
“Me.” Mike runs a hand over his chin. “Lesley’s drinking again, living with a new guy right now, totally breaking her agreement with the court.”
“Sorry, man.”
“I just want to keep her safe.”
“As long as she has you and her Uncle Mox in her corner, she’ll be alright.”
Mike shakes his head and then changes the subject, “So what’s the deal with the woman who owns the Beetle?”
I take another sip of coffee. “Millie doesn’t want a player.”
Mike grins. “Millie, huh? What’s she like?”