For the quickest of heartbeats, something passed between us. Heat, amusement, and maybe even a hint of respect, but mostly it was white-hot electricity, that kind that comes in themiddle of a dry thunderstorm. But as expected, Sledge shook his head until the thoughts smacked against the wall and slid to the floor, and disappeared down the hall, muttering something I couldn’t catch.
I exhaled slowly, heart pounding furiously in my chest.
Then, a slow smile spread. I shouldn’t have this much fun sparring with him, but dammit I do.
Zoya. You’re here for Zoya, not her infuriating, hot, grumpy father.
I repeated the words as I stepped into my sneakers, tied them, and locked the door behind me. Over and over and over until they were lodged deep in my brain.
I would keep repeating them until every part of me believed it.
I knew I was playing with fire, but for the first time in my life I couldn’t—didn’t want to—walk away from the heat.
Chapter Five
Sledge
“Goddamn, man, this engine is covered in shit.” Vandal swiped his forearm across his face with a heavy sigh. He pushed away from the ‘84 Charger and stared at the damn thing like it had done him wrong.
I laughed from my spot in the third bay where I’d been doing stupid fucking oil changes all damn day. “Probably hasn’t changed the oil since the eighties.” I shook my head, staring at the blue and silver two-tone monstrosity. It was an ugly fucking car but that’s what we did, we took ugly and broken shit and made it govroomagain.
“Maybe you should accidentally scratch it so we can repaint it for free.” T-Bone shuddered the same way he did every time he looked at the car.
We all laughed, making jokes about the Charger that Vandal would make purr like a brand new engine when it was all said and done. It was good being here in the garage with my brothers. Life was easy here. Uncomplicated. I knew exactly what to do to fix any problem that cropped up under the hood of anything with four wheels.
Being here was a reprieve from the tension in my own fucking house. Not that I hated it, but I hated feeling powerless when it came to my daughter. No matter how kind or gentle or fucking patient I was, Zoya wouldn’t talk until she was good and ready. I cycled through the first dozen cars in just a couple ofhours, only allowing my mind to wander to thoughts of Eliana every once in a while.
That fucking nanny, she was persistent in my mind. Smiling and smelling good, and caring for my little girl as if she was her own. I was happy about it, I swear to fucking god I was, but I hated that it was someone else, a total fucking stranger who was doing what I couldn’t.
Just be happy she’s doing better.
I was, goddammit I really was happy, but also, I wasn’t.
As soon as we closed up for lunch, I checked my phone, heart slamming against my chest when I saw a message from Eliana. Was something wrong? I tapped the screen and opened the message, smiling at the image of Zoya showing off paint-stained hands with the biggest fucking smile on her face.
“Whoa, brother, is the pretty little nanny the reason for the smile?” Fucking Vandal and his shit-eating grin as if he knew anything.
“In a way,” I answered easily, turning the screen to show him the picture of Zoya.
“Holy shit!” his brows shot up, disappearing behind the black bandana he used to keep his long hair out of the way while he worked. “Zoya looks happy as fuck, man. How’s it going?”
I shrugged. “She seems happier and more communicative, but she’s not talking any more than usual.”
“And the nanny?” He wiggled his brows. “How are things there?”
My smile faded. There was no easy way to describe my complicated feelings about Eliana. “She’s bossy and annoying.Thinks she knows my kid better than me.” And she smelled amazing. Her scent always lingered where she’d been last, like she had to make sure I wouldn’t forget about her. “But Zoya really likes her.”
He eyed me a little too carefully. “That’s why your panties are all twisted up, because she knows Zoya?”
“Shethinksshe knows her, and she does—but not better than me.” Nobody, not even Trish knew her better than me.
Vandal shook his head. “Sounds like she’s exactly what you and Zoya need.”
I shook my head, my anger rising because he was trying to put a name to something I was determined to ignore. “I didn’t hire her for me. She’s there to babysit Zoya, that’s all.”
“Yeah,” he snorted as he lit up a cigarette. “This is what we call the cherry on top. You got the sundae, help for Zoya and if you play your cards right maybe she’ll be the cherry on top of your sundae.” He rubbed his stomach. “Fuck, now I’m hungry.”
I laughed. “Asshole.”
