“This is so much more fun than when you were a kiddo,” Mom said on a laugh. She continued to giggle the entire way down the staircase. Loud. With absolutely no care to the fact that Becca and her friends could freaking hear her.
“Randy,” Mom called as she got further away. “Becca met a man. You should ask him over for poker with your friends.”
And I should definitely check out the housing classifieds.
If Becca had a few nights of extra good tippers, she could move into a place with a touch more privacy.
She peeled her eyes open.
Her best friends all stared at her like she was a ticking time bomb and they were going to help her shove all the pieces of herself back together.
“Does anyone else really wonder what this doohickey is?” Kellie asked. “I feel like I need to know. For science.”
“No.” Becca gave a not-so-subtle head shake. “You’re not allowed.”
The ache in her heart while she lived away from her family hadn’t ever quite gone away, even when she came back this time to stay for a while. She was still the same Becca, but the rest of the family had gone down a different path. They’d changed. Dad played poker and had buddies. Mom’s ladies’ auxiliary had gone off the rails. Her brothers moved away. They’d all changed.
Yet, she hadn’t.
Her mind immediately took her to Linx’s house. The place held an abundance of privacy. Privacy and no parents and a mattress to die for. Bah. No. She would not fixate on Linx, his privacy, or his mattress. At least, she would try her best not to.
She’d deal with the futon and invest in aPrivacy, Pleasesign.
Or something.
Chapter 9
Linx
Snow fell as Linx pulled into the spot outside of Brother’s Automotive and Tire Center near Broomfield. The gray, cinder-block building was well-kept with new paint and shiny windows. The sign had a small crack along the edge but was otherwise in good shape. The buildings surrounding it weren’t as lucky. Several were vacant, and the few that held industrial businesses looked like they could definitely do with an overhaul and a solid coat of primer, at the very least.
Linx climbed out of his car. He could’ve called, but he preferred in-person conversational transactions—even when he planned to give loads of shit away. Shit being his time. But seeing as he wasn’t heading to the recording studio soon, his schedule was wide open.
A bell on the glass door chimed when he pushed it open. The place smelled like the semi-sweet scent of new tires. Thick glass windows separated the front of the shop from the back and muffled most garage sounds, though Black Sabbath through the speakers was clear enough for him to identify.
He grinned all the way through his body. If that song was any sign of what these boys had for taste in music, they’d get along just fine.
The lead singer with the tats—John—helped a lady at the counter. She held his entire attention.
Which made sense because she was pretty. Not Becca pretty, and she didn’t make Linx want to rearrange his life and introduce her to his cat, but she definitely had the look of a woman who knew how to get what she wanted.
He could appreciate that in a fellow human being.
Carpe the fuck out of the diem.
“Be right with you,” John said, without looking up from her invoice.
“No rush.” Linx grabbed a seat in the waiting area and tapped out the rhythm to one of the new songs he’d been percolating.
The beat of his new song almost matched up entirely with Black Sabbath. That was handy.
John looked up. Then he did a double-take before his eyes got comically wide.
Linx gave his best shit-eating smile and a two-finger wave.
“Go back to whatever you all are doing.” Linx also waved to the lady checking him out. Given that the only woman his brain was interested in was Becca, he gave her a smile, but nothing else. “I’m in no hurry.”
The shop door opened, and the blare of heavy metal followed the motion. Mach strode through wearing blue coveralls with his name stitched on the pocket. A pair of safety glasses held his shaggy hair out of his face. He grabbed a clipboard, looked up, and did the same double-take as John when he caught Linx chilling in their waiting area.
