Page 2 of Spring Surprise
“Never mind him. He’s a terrible flirt,” Jorie warns.
Placing the keys on the counter, I extend my hand. “Tobias James, and don’t listen to her, she’s a brat.” Well, Ezra’s brat anyway, both literally and figuratively, and I couldn’t be happier for my serious best friend. Jorie keeps him on his toes.
“Neely, ah… James. Nice to meet you.” She blushes again as she slides cool fingers into my hand, giving a half-hearted shake. I get it—I’m a big man, and she doesn’t know me.
“James, huh? When we say, ‘I do,’ you won’t even have to change your name now, will you, Sugar?”
Jorie laughs quietly as Neely squirms beneath my gaze. Those pinkened cheeks turn a mottled red.
“Stop teasing her, Toby. She’s a customer, remember?”
“For now.” I give her a promising smile.
I’m about to ask her a little bit about herself when Ezra and Aaron Curtis—the owners of Curtis Garage—come through the back hallway, giving each other crap like normal.
Manny follows with a couple of bags of take-out. “Thanks for holding the door, asshole.”
“What’cha got there, baby?” Ezra sidles up to Jorie, leaning down to take her lips in a searing kiss. Lucky bastard.
Manny clears his throat. “Uh… food, anyone?”
Jorie pulls away from her man. I glance at our guest and grin. If she blushes any harder, her skin might permanently stay in lobster mode. She’s staring up at the ceiling as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world until Jorie distracts her.
“Isn’t he adorable? Look at his tiny fingers,” Jorie gushes, holding the baby higher for the rest of us to see.
I lean in for a better look. How did I not realize she had a baby in her arms? Something akin to betrayal, anger, and confusion rolls through my head. Nope, not opening that door. The past stays where it belongs—in the past.
“Your husband must be proud.” My tone is almost accusatory. What the hell? I mean, I don’t know the girl, and it isn’t like Neely has been leading me on. I just met her, for God’s sake. If she’d started flirting back, I would have checked her left hand for a ring, and I always,always,ask a woman her marital status before taking my interest further than a drink or dance. I may be a player, but I’m not a poacher, and I fuckin’ despise liars.
“I’m not married.” Neely shifts from foot-to-foot. She stares at her son, then her gaze flicks to me and back to the kid. The fine hairs stand up on the back of my neck, instincts developed from my years as an Army Ranger giving warning. What is she hiding?
“I should go. Maybe I’ll see you around.” She reaches over to take the baby out of Jorie’s arms.
“He’s cute. What’s his name?” Aaron pushes, ignoring the fact that she’s trying to leave. He also ignores the glare I shoot him. His lips twitch when I mouth, “I saw her first, fucker.”
Chapter 3
Neely
Crap. Maybe this was a mistake. The tension in the garage’s small office is suddenly thicker than the scent of motor oil hanging in the air. This isn’t how I thought meeting Tobias James for the first time would go. Honestly, I’m so damned tired, I hadn’t really thought this out beyond getting to Wintervale.
Exhaustion and being ill-prepared for Montana’s weather landed me exactly in front of the man I came here seeking. What are the odds of hitting a patch of ice, at the end of March, no less, and then sliding off the road? In the south, probably never, but in the mountains of Montana, pretty darned good because that’s exactly what happened.
I was leery when a wrecker service arrived almost before my car slammed into a guardrail, but let me just say,thank God. Going over the side of the mountain… yeah, no thank you. I was even more suspicious when the guy growled at me, insisting I wasn’t going anywhere with abroken fucking tie rod—his words, not mine. A guy who I now know owns the same garage as the man I was looking to meet.
I thought it was some kind of fudged-up set-up by the people who’d shot up my house. Except as grumpy as he seemed, this dude, Ezra, then called his girlfriend to come give my baby and me a ride to town.
So here I stand, hugging my son to my chest, frozen like a deer trapped in headlights. Except the lights are five people with varying looks of interest waiting for me to answer. Little TJ’s grunt of disapproval gives me the excuse I seem to need to look away. For one so new to the world, my son makes his wishes abundantly clear. The kid hates being restricted. I can’t say I blame him.
I ease the baby toward his car seat sitting at my feet but then pause. The reason I came to Wintervale is standing right in front of me. Should I ease into it or just rip the bandage off?
Do I really have a choice?
This is for TJ’s safety, and I’ve never been one to sugarcoat anything, despite my stage name of Sugar Cookie. Straightening, I finally answer the guy but meet Tobias’s stare as I do.
“His name is Tobias. I call him TJ… He’s your son.”
Color leaches from Tobias’s skin as my words register. I can see anger building like a great storm rushing over the mountains. From the neck of his coveralls, it floods over his throat and into his face. His lips draw back in a snarl, and hell burns in his eyes. “Bullshit!” he roars.
