Willow gazed around the auction site, taking in the high roof and noisy petrol-laced air. “Um... I don’t know. Maybe, like, one of those little Fiat ones?”
“A 500?”
“Yeah. A red one. Then I could call it Jam Jar.”
Locke shook his head. “That’s too small, Wills.”
“You said I needed a small car.”
“I meant the engine. Not a tin can with wheels.”
“Wow. You’re grumpy today. Can I get a Fanta from that machine?”
Wordlessly, Locke dropped some coins into Willow’s open palm and hawk-eyed her every step as she drifted to a nearby vending machine, unaware of Embry’s shadow behind her. Or Nash ghosting back to my side the second Embry switched his attention from me to Locke’s daughter.
“This one’s good.” He passed Locke the program. “It doesn’t need much work.”
Locke glanced at the page and nodded, still tracking Willow.
I peered between them. “Are you out of your minds?”
“It’s a good car, Orls. Low mileage, service history, and I can fix the rest of it in a day.”
“You don’t need to do that,” Locke grumbled in the same moment I flicked Nash’s dumb ear.
“It’s fuckingbrown. Give the girl a chance.” I snatched the program, flipping through the pages until I came to something—anything—less monstrous than the ugly Peugeot these goons thought suited a teenage girl. “This one. You can re-enforce the bodywork and spray it red.”
Nash tapped a finger on the page. “No room for a guitar case on that back seat, babe.”
“She can put it on the front seat to keep the boys out.”
“Now that idea, I like.” Locke claimed the program as Willow returned to his side, studying the little Fiat.
Willow ducked under his arm and they shared a look that warmed and broke my heart all at once.
Nash eased me away from them. “Give them a sec,” he whispered, as if it was them and not me that needed a break from something so wonderful. “He’s still trying to figure out how to sneak that envelope under Cam’s pillow, but that smile on her face will bring him round.”
“You’re a clever man, McGovern.”
Nash laughed. “You’re a shit liar, O’Brian. But I’m right about this.”
“You really care about him, don’t you?”
“I do.” Nash nuzzled my throat. “Cos he makes it so easy.”
“You make it easy too.” In that, they were the same, but despite their obvious similarities—tall, blond, hot, and fun—these precious men came at life from different worlds. Nash felt safe in his life. Secure. Locke didn’t, but he had a blood family who loved and cherished him just for existing.
Nash hadn’t had that in years, if he’d ever had it at all.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him. “I love you.”
He smiled that soft smile that made the world go round. “I love you too, my queen.”
10
LOCKE
I was bullheaded enough to make a decision and stick to it. The Fiat 500 was a go, but procuring it took time. Nash’s time. With his AirPods jammed in his ears, that beautiful fucker checked every inch of that damn car, and only keeping my daughter safe stopped me eyeballing every inch of his body as he contorted it every which way, smearing oil on his lush skin.
