Page 19 of Boss Me Around

My brother rolls his eyes so hard, his head swivels on his neck. “You’re ridiculous. I’m not going to end up in a Mexican prison.”

“You take chances.”

“So do you,” he shoots back. “And you’re not sticking or staying put, either. I’m just planning an extended vacation. You’re the one who’s moving out of town.” He strokes Marisol’s glossy neck, looking up into her big brown eyes as he adds in a sweeter voice, “Isn’t that right, Mari? Christian’s the big bad bailer, and when Mom finds out, she’ll forget she’s mad at me and move his name to the top of her shit list.”

“I’ll only be a couple hours away,” I say.

Matty snorts. “Tell that to Mom. You haven’t told her yet, right? She was smiling when I passed by her flower stand on the way in, so I’m assuming not.”

“I’ll tell her when I’m ready,” I mumble. “When the time is right.”

“The time’s never going to be right, and you know it,” Matty says. “Our family is like a cult. No one gets to have any original thoughts, and no one gets to leave.”

“Our family is not like a cult.”

“Yeah, it is,” Matty insists. “A mostly nice cult, but still…” He tosses Marisol’s brush on top of a leather tack bag in the corner of the stall before turning to face me fully. “And don’t worry about Nora. She’s literally the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I’m sure she realizes she’s too good for me.”

I exhale. “I didn’t say that, Matty. I’m just saying she’s got a lot on her plate and is probably looking for someone who wants to stick around and help her out, not get her all attached and hit the road.”

“Guess I should be flattered that you think I’m interesting enough to get attached to,” he mutters, looping an arm around Marisol’s neck. She snorts in my direction, as if she’s understood every word of our conversation and is firmly on Matty’s side. “Anything else, my liege? Or are you finished chewing my ass for the day? You do realize you’re the little brother in this relationship, right? If anyone is chewing ass it should be me?”

“Thirteen months older doesn’t count. And I had to grow up faster, since I didn’t have a twin to watch my back.” I frown. “Speaking of twins, why couldn’t you bartend for Melissa tonight?”

Matty’s eyes dim, and his expression grows guarded. “I have a previous engagement.”

“A previous engagement?” I echo. “Like what? Everyone you know is here.”

“Not everyone,” he says. “And that’s all I’m going to say about it. Wouldn’t want you to get in trouble for keeping secrets from the family.”

“Tell me you’re not racing again,” I say, my blood heating as he continues to give me the infamous Matty stonewall face. I don’t know how Matty went from a genius high school nerd, who could speak four languages and was getting recruited by half the colleges in the country, to a full-fledged rebel, but it happened fast. And so far, he shows no sign of shifting course back to a safer lane. “If you die in a stock car crash, it’ll kill Mom. You know that, right?”

“I’m making the choices I feel comfortable making and doing the things I need to do,” he says cagily. “Which reminds me, you should probably check in on Gage and the guys at your shop. I heard a rumor one of them is chopping up stolen bikes for parts and selling them after hours out your back door. Wouldn’t want that to blowback on you if whoever it is gets caught.”

I curse and Matty smiles. “See,” he adds, “sometimes my nefarious ways and shady connections are a good thing. I’d suggest you set up a nanny cam somewhere in the shop. Should have your culprit in a few days.” He pats Marisol on the neck. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to load Marisol into the trailer and get her back to Wes before three p.m. or she’ll be pissed. That’s when the little girls down the road walk by the field with carrots.”

Marisol snorts again and flaps her lips in my direction.

“All right, I’ll touch base with you later. Be careful tonight,” I say, wondering who could be the rat at my shop. Not to be a jerk who judges people on their past mistakes, but Unger is my only mechanic with a record. He did time for stealing from construction sites as a teenager.

“Will do,” Matty says, turning toward the back exit to the stall.

“And Matty,” I call after him, waiting until he turns to add, “Thanks for the tip. I appreciate it. If you were sticking around town, I’d put in a good word for you with Nora. Someone to come home to might be good for you.”

Matty grins. “Aw, thanks, bro. You’re not all bad, either. Say hi to Mel for me and tell her I’m sorry I couldn’t help out tonight.”

I promise I will and head for the opposite side of the barn, checking the time on my cell before hurrying out to the parking lot. I still have a couple hours before I have to report for bartending duty and don’t see any reason to stick around the fair. I’d only risk running into Starling again and that seems like something best avoided until Monday morning at the office.

I head home to check on Bella to find her passed out cold in my closet, nestled in my open sock drawer. Considering skunks are nocturnal, this is nothing to be worried about, so I leave her sleeping and refill her food bowl before heading out to buy a motion activated surveillance camera.

Luckily for me, the bike shop closes early on Saturdays so I’m able to pop in and plant the camera in the breakroom between several antique oil containers no one’s touched—or dusted—in years without anyone being the wiser.

As I lock up the shop that’s been such a big part of my life for the past decade, I can’t help wishing again that I’d been able to find a buyer. The shop helped me pay off my house while taking time off to volunteer at the shelter and spend time with my family and friends, but I’m ready to move on. I’m excited to do work that really makes a difference in people’s lives and to come home at the end of the day without oil caked under my fingernails.

Though I’ve never had any complaints about my dirty hands.

A lot of women actually seemed to like it.

Women like Ariana, one of my exes, who’s just getting off work at the beer tent as I breeze back into the fair. She’s dressed in a much more modest wench outfit than Carolina’s, but that’s her style. Ari is a class act, works two jobs to support her sick parents, and still finds plenty of opportunities to have a good time.

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