Chapter
Two
Trix grumbled to herself as she walked up the sidewalk to the Wynns’ house. She’d been here numerous times in her youth, but rarely since they’d converted it into a halfway house. The Wynns were as protective of her as her papá, abuelo, and hermanos. As if being the only girl wasn’t bad enough, she was also the baby. The only time she had ever been treated as an equal or respected for her own thoughts was when she’d been working on a car. That was her domain. That was where she was Queen B. Even her hermanos had brought her their cars to work on long before she’d inherited the shop.
Being at the Wynns’ house again reminded Trixie of all the family meals and get-togethers she’d been accustomed to as a child. The Wynns’ house had been her second home. Everyone knew that if she wasn’t at the shop with her head under the hood of a car, she was at Tìa Peggy’s getting something to eat. After the Wynns had renovated and turned their three-story house into a halfway house, Trixie had been warned that she was not allowed to stop by randomly anymore. If Tìo Greg or her papá or abuelo weren’t with her, she was not allowed inside. At the time of this announcement, Trixie had been angry. She’d loved coming here to see Tìa Peg. But later in her teens, she’d put aside that anger. Without her time split between the Wynns’ and the shop, her full attention had been put into her cars. She’d finished her first restoration at sixteen.
Boys were second to her love of mechanics. After graduating high school, her papá and abuelo had pushed her to attend college. But Trixie had dropped out before her first semester was even over. She’d never excelled at school. She needed to be where she felt valued and powerful, and there was no place she’d rather be than that shop.
Trixie righted her skirt, kicking herself for wearing the stupid thing. She knew she didn’t have to dress up for a Sunday dinner with the Wynns, but she’d told herself she needed to put more effort into her appearance for Peggy.
Not for some rugged, cocky biker she had yet to get out of her brain. Ugh, she hated that. She was not some lovesick girl who dreamed of her knight in shining armor. She was a grown woman with her own successful business. Her trust issues aside, she had no desire to fall head over heels into a man’s arms… No matter how muscular those arms were or how good he’d smelled or how that cocky smile had made her loins clench or how lickable those beautiful tattoos wer—
Stop! Trixie flinched, closing her eyes as she ordered her brain not to follow through with that very dangerous line of thought. Damn, she needed to get her head on straight before she walked into that house. She didn’t even know if Mr. Cocky Biker was in there. Boosting cars was not a point in the plus column on his resume. And he couldn’t even be that good at it if he’d been caught.
That thought snapped her out of her dreamy state. Good, she’d concentrate on that. With renewed determination, Trixie walked the rest of the way up the sidewalk and into the house. She’d never had to knock when entering the Wynn house, and that hadn’t changed with its new inhabitants.
Peggy was cooking something with garlic. Having been raised never to attend a gathering empty handed but also knowing alcohol was not allowed in the house, she’d brought Peggy a store-bought cheesecake. Trixie loved cheesecake. Store-bought wasn’t as good as Peggy could have made, but it was a hell of a lot better than anything Trixie could have made.
Trixie paused in the kitchen doorway.
He was there, standing over a steaming pot of something. Her heart started racing again. Well, that was just great. Apparently, he didn’t even have to look at her for him to have an effect on her. This was going to be an extremely long evening.
Cayden turned his head over his left shoulder, opposite from where Trix was standing. “How long do I have to stir this for?”
“Until it’s ready, dear.” Peggy walked up to him, placing a hand on his back. “It needs to simmer for some time.”
“This is a bit more complicated than I had meant when I said I’d help you cook.”
Peggy, who noticed Trix in the doorway just then, gave a knowing smile. “The things a man will do for a pretty girl.”
Trixie’s cheeks burned. She couldn’t walk worth a damn in heels, but now she wished she’d worn something a bit louder than her flats. Maybe then she wouldn’t have had to hear Cayden’s reply of, “Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. Just hope she likes burnt pasta sauce.”
Peggy’s smile widened.
His reply confused Trixie for just a second. When they’d met, she hadn’t been pretty. Her hair had been a mess, she’d been in work clothes, and her hands had been greasy. Why would he lie and call her pretty? Not just pretty, but the prettiest.
Trixie was not in the mood and stomped into the room before either Peggy or Cayden said more. “I brought cheesecake.”
She plopped the box on the kitchen table harder than she’d meant to. Damn it, she’d probably just smushed the cheesecake. Rather than be embarrassed as she’d expected him to be, as he now knew that his words had been overheard, Cayden turned and smiled.
Her heart skipped. Fuck, how did he do that? Maybe she needed to take the time to see a doctor this week. Was she too young for a heart attack? Could one pay to have a lobotomy done?
“Trixie.” He said her name like an endearment, like how a lover should whisper “good girl” into her ear. Her cheeks blazed. His mismatched eyes traveled ever so slowly down her, taking in her combed hair, her modest cleavage, her slim hips, her legs exposed by that skirt, and her flats. Her heart pounded like a base drum, waiting impatiently for his assessment. Why did she want him to tell her she was pretty again? Why did it feel like she would die unless she heard those words?
Pasta sauce on the stove forgotten, Cayden approached her. Neither even noticed that Peggy had silently taken up stirring the sauce without a word. When Cayden was just inside her personal bubble, he stopped. Trixie could feel the heat radiating off of him. He wore snug jeans and a baby blue button-up that seemed to accentuate the colors in his tattoo sleeves. His feet were bare, which she had no idea why she liked so much.
Carefully, he reached forward and tucked her long black curls behind her right ear. Then, to her utter horror and embarrassment, he shook his head disapprovingly. “No,” he said softly. “I don’t like you like this.”
Her heart froze, dropping like a boulder in a Warner Brothers’ cartoon. Her face heated, and fuck her, because she felt her eyes start to moisten too. When she went to turn away from him, he grabbed her chin between his thumb and pointer finger. She wanted to break away. She couldn’t risk him feeling her chin trembling, but he held her tight.
Ducking in low, just as he had at the shop, his lips nearly touched her ear. “I like you better when you’re covered in grease and motor oil. That’s the real you, not this dolled up woman before me.”
Trixie’s breath hitched in her throat. He liked her in her work clothes, sweaty and covered in grease? She’d showered for him! Well, she’d showered for Peggy and the fact that she’d smelled rank. But it had been this arrogant bastard who’d been on her mind when she’d stripped out of her coveralls to jump under the warm water.
That’s the real you…
He’d met her once. Well, twice including now, but only once where it really counted. How could he possibly know that that was the real her, versus how she was dressed now? There was no way. Men don’t assume women are gearheads. Men don’t like women who are gearheads. She’d chosen a profession ruled stereotypically by men. The stupid typecast that women couldn’t change a tire had irked her since before she’d gotten her first period.
She could take apart an engine faster than any of the other mechanics at her shop, and she only hired the best. A penis didn’t make for a better mechanic. It just made for a bigger ego.
He tipped her face up with a crooked finger under her chin. There was about five inches between their height differences. In her limited experience, men didn’t like that she was so tall either. Yet Mr. Cocky Biker obviously didn’t seem to mind. “You look beautiful, Trix.” Her heart thudded at her nickname. Only family called her Trix. She was Trixie, Boss, or Romero at the shop. “Even if you do smell like lavender instead of Mobil-1.”
Her cheeks heated. Damn, how did he do that?
Needing to get a grip on herself, as well as put distance between them, Trixie ripped her chin out of his hold and crossed her arms over her chest. “Mr. Russo, I don’t believe I gave you permission to touch me.”
And there was that smug smile again. She expected him to say something about her eyes giving him permission, which she honestly didn’t doubt. Instead, he backed away with his hands raised. “My apologies, Ms. Romero.”
“Pasta’s ready!”
Trixie jumped at Peggy’s shout. It was followed immediately by the pounding of several footsteps. Men rushed into the kitchen, each trying to beat the other to the stove where a large pot of pasta and the sauce Cayden had been stirring waited for them. There was a basket of bread on the counter and a bowl of parmesan cheese with a spoon next to it.
Trixie watched as each man filled his plate and then paused by Peggy to say, “Thank you, Mrs. Wynn,” before journeying to take a seat at the table. She also noticed that Cayden hadn’t moved from her side. Did he want to be there, or did he feel he had to be because she was a woman? Why wasn’t he standing guard next to Peggy?
There were eight parolees including Cayden in the house. When seven of them were seated with their plates, Peggy gestured for Trixie to get hers. Cayden trailed after her.
“Boys, this is Trixie Romero. She’s a dear friend of Mr. Wynn’s and mine.” There was a clear warning in Peggy’s voice as she spoke to the men.
Trixie turned, her plate still empty, to wave tentatively at them. Collectively, they were well groomed and had been polite to Peggy, but they were all ex-convicts. She didn’t know what their past crimes were. She wasn’t scared of them. The Wynns did not take in anyone whose crimes had been violent or sexual. While she knew how to handle herself, she was cautiously wary of them.
After filling her plate, she grabbed the glass of water Peggy offered her and took an empty seat. Cayden took the chair to her right, placing himself between her and his housemates. Trixie noticed that none of the men were eating yet. They waited as Peggy and Greg filled their plates and then sat at the two heads of the table. Greg dropped a kiss to the top of Trixie’s head as he passed her.
Having never been the religious type but a stickler for due respect, Greg looked down the table at his wife and said, “Thank you, my dear. This looks fantastic.”
Peggy smiled lovingly at her husband as the others at the table, including Trixie, echoed Greg’s gratitude. “You all are quite welcome, but this was not cooked by me.” She indicated down the table and said, “This was all Cayden.”
“So be ready to call 911,” Cayden snapped quickly before anyone could send praise his way. “I can’t guarantee I didn’t poison any of you.”
A laugh rumbled through the room, but Trixie didn’t partake. Why had he deflected Peggy’s words so? She didn’t doubt he was a bad cook, but also didn’t think he was trying to be modest just for her sake. It was as if Cayden didn’t like being in the spotlight. Interesting, she silently mused.
“Let’s eat.” At Greg’s words, the forks were picked up and immediately filled. Trixie was slower to follow the routine.
Conversations started between various parties, though none were directed at her. Not waiting for Cayden to try to start one, she looked at the young man across the table from her. He was maybe eighteen or nineteen, which made Trixie wonder what he’d done to land in a halfway house after barely reaching adulthood.
“Hi, I’m Trixie.” She reached across the table to extend her hand.
“Paul.” He took her hand. “I’m a hacker.” At Peggy’s throat clearing, he amended with a small smile. “I’m an ex-hacker.”
“Wow.” Trixie twirled some spaghetti onto her fork but didn’t bring it to her mouth. “I’m envious. I have trouble checking my email. If that little button didn’t tell me I had one, I probably wouldn’t even remember to look.”
Paul chuckled. “I don’t like people, but computers?” He sighed longingly. “I like computers.”
“I get it.” Because she did. “That’s exactly the way I feel about cars. People are complicated and stupid, but cars? I get those.”
Paul indicated with his fork. “You and Cayden will get along great then.” Trixie forced herself not to follow the direction the fork was pointing. “He used to run with the Black Pythons.”
Trixie tried to look surprised, but she wasn’t that great of an actress. She already guessed that he’d been with the outlaw MC. Her abuelo had lost more than one exotic to the Black Pythons, their President Carver, and his club over the years. The first time she’d heard Carver’s name had been her papá yelling it into the phone, cursing the man.
“I prefer my cars legally obtained.”
Paul grinned. “Don’t think too poorly of us, Ms. Romero. We’re lost souls who just need a purpose.”
“And what is your purpose?” She didn’t know his last name so she couldn’t call him Mr. in return.
“To serve my time so I can get back to my wife and daughter.” At the mention of his family, Trixie thought perhaps she’d misjudged his age. “Want to see them?” Before waiting for her reply, Paul dug his wallet out of his back pocket and opened it up to a photo of two smiling teens and an infant. “We had her when we were sixteen. I promised I’d take care of us when Shelly’s parents kicked her out for getting pregnant.” Guilt crossed his face as he admitted, “I took one too many shortcuts and got caught with my hand in the cookie jar. She’s been on her own raising our daughter for almost two years. Once my term here is done, I get to go home to them.”
Trixie matched his smile. “Good for you, Paul.”
Rather than putting it away, Paul set his wallet next to his plate with the photo facing him before he took another bite. “What about you, Ms. Romero? Any relation to the dealership down the road?”
She nodded proudly. “Mi abuelo founded it, passed it on to me when he died.”
“So, you own it? That’s cool.” Paul took a sip of his water, reminding Trixie that she hadn’t even taken a bite of food yet. She twirled noodles around her fork earlier. “Do you just manage operations or do you work in sales?”
Trixie paused with the fork halfway to her mouth. She’d had this question put to her too many times for her to show anger about it. “I work on the cars. My specialty is exotic restorations, but I can do it all if needed. One of my painters is out on paternity leave right now so I had to pick up the slack there too.” She made a face. “Not my forte, to be honest, but I get by.”
Paul looked impressed. “You actually work on the cars?”
She nodded, trying not to get annoyed with the kid. It was either talk to him or silence, because she refused to talk to Mr. Cocky Biker. If it wasn’t for the fact that she’d already told Cayden she didn’t break her client’s confidentiality, she’d start bragging about the GTO waiting for pickup in her bay. That baby purred now that she was done with her.
“That’s so cool!” Paul’s shock turned into respect and awe. The kid was easier to read than an audiobook. “I wish I was good at cars. I never got my license, so it never made sense to learn how.”
“You don’t have your license?”
He shook his head. “I dropped out of high school when Shelly got pregnant. I had my dad’s laptop at the time. It was this old dinosaur,” he scoffed. “But I used it to teach myself code. It was like a hidden language that just spoke to me. I kept learning, kept teaching myself. Got into this underground network and met this hacktivist group.” He shrugged. “I just wanted to provide for my family. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”
Trixie wondered if his use of the word ‘hurt’ was physical or financial. If he’d actually hurt someone, she couldn’t imagine him being out on parole after only two years, or that the Wynns would take him in.
One of the men across the table from her stood to refill his water glass. He paused to make sure Peggy didn’t need anything while he was up. Trixie’s eyes wandered down the table where another man and Greg were deep in conversation about the house’s plumbing of all things and then back towards Peggy. They were an aging couple who had opened up their home to strangers. Some might think this to be a crazy and irresponsible action, but Trixie knew it for what it was at its heart.
They were lonely. The loss of their son, whether he was dead or not, was a hard one to bear. Taking in these men was their way of atoning, even when they had done nothing wrong. Trixie’s love for the couple rose. They were truly amazing. Beyond that, they had demanded respect from these men and had gotten it. There wasn’t a rude word or gesture amongst any of them.
“You aren’t eating.” Her head snapped to her right where Cayden was looking at her. “It doesn’t taste that bad, does it?”
Trixie shook her head quickly, finally taking a bite of her food. It didn’t taste poisonous. She didn’t know if the sauce was homemade or store-bought, but it was good too. “Just talking.”
“I heard.” He took a sip of water. “Be warned, though. Paul will talk anyone’s ear off about his family, if you let him.”
Trixie had gotten that feeling. The kid was in love, and she hoped he never lost sight of that. Something nagged at her mind, forcing the question from her mouth before she thought better of it. “Are you married?”
Cayden’s smirk was just as arrogant as his smile. Damn it. He lifted his left hand to show her the naked finger. “Nope.” He popped the p. “You?”
Wanting to throw him off his game, she also lifted her hand and said with the same emphasis, “Nope.”
All she had to do was lean forward just a bit and their hands would touch. She recalled the warmth she’d felt just from platonically shaking his hand. What would it feel like to hold his hand, to caress it, and receive such touches in return?
She quickly lowered her hand and faced forward again. Damn it, she hadn’t thrown him off his game. She’d thrown hers.
The hand on her thigh almost made her jump. It took her a moment to realize that it wasn’t placed there to be sexy or erotic. He gave her a quick squeeze, as if to reassure her, and then took it away just as quickly. Her skin felt cold at the loss of his touch. She wasn’t sure if she was happy or sad he’d removed his hand.
Reminding herself that they weren’t alone, Trixie settled on being glad. Grudgingly.
Cayden was getting impatient. Why hadn’t Mrs. Wynn said anything to Trixie about having Cayden look at her security system? Wasn’t that the whole point of Trixie being here tonight? And if he had to watch Victor’s eyes stray one more time to her cleavage, he was going back to prison for murder.
He hadn’t lied to her. He did prefer her in her work clothes and smelling like motor oil. He liked how rugged she’d looked, hardworking. It was a trait that made her stand out from the rest of the population.
But he really liked that top and skirt combo on her too. Except that he wanted her to have worn it for him, not to be polite to Mr. and Mrs. Wynn. Cayden knew she was affected by him, but not enough to make her act on it. That was what bothered him. He wanted to grab her and kiss her, to make the claim that she was his, and pour a bucket of grease on her. Having Victor lick his lips across the table from her as he openly stared down her shirt was pushing on the edges of Cayden’s sanity. His notorious anger was starting to rise.
Trixie was going to be his one day. He’d see to it. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but fuck someday soon. He wanted her. She was smart, stubborn, ambitious, sassy, sexy…and she loved cars almost as much as he did. What more could a man ask for?
A hand on his arm drew his attention away from Trixie and Victor’s wandering eyes. Geordi sat on Cayden’s other side between him and Mr. Wynn. Like Paul, Geordi was young, only twenty, but he acted younger. From what Cayden understood from Mr. Jones, Geordi’s father had taken a baseball bat to his head when he’d been a kid. His mother had abandoned them and his drunk of a father hadn’t liked being a single dad.
It was a good thing Geordi’s father was already dead, or Cayden would be currently sitting on death row for murdering the man after hearing his story.
Geordi was a sweet kid who just wanted to be given a chance. He was forgetful though, and exceedingly gullible. Unfortunately, this had landed the kid in a wannabe street gang as a lookout. Geordi had gotten distracted and the crew had been caught. Thankfully, the judge had been lenient regarding Geordi’s condition, and he’d only served six months with two years parole plus counseling. Geordi might be twenty, but he acted sometimes like he was five. The fact that the man couldn’t remember how to tie his own shoes only emphasized his condition.
Mrs. Wynn took special care of Geordi. She bought him Velcro shoes and created a chart for him so he would know where he was supposed to be at what time of day. He worked at a florist shop, which seemed to calm him. Geordi wasn’t ashamed of his condition. He spoke openly about it. In the short time that Cayden had been at the house, he’d seen the others shy away from Geordi. Whether they did this because they didn’t know how to act around him or because they didn’t want to risk Mrs. Wynn and her wooden spoon if what they said was taken negatively, Cayden didn’t know. He liked Geordi and tried to look out for the kid.
Geordi was having trouble collecting the spaghetti on his fork. Cayden picked up his spoon and showed Geordi how to use it to twirl the spaghetti onto it. If his very Italian Gran saw him using a spoon, she would use it to castrate him. But Cayden hoped she would forgive him given the circumstances.
Once he was sure Geordi had it, Cayden turned his attention back to his own plate and paused. Trixie was staring open mouthed at him. Not Geordi, him.
His back stiffened. “What?”
She seemed to catch herself and shook her head. “Nothing.” She turned back to her own plate, hesitated, and then faced him again. “That was really sweet.”
“Bikers can’t be sweet?”
Her cheeks reddened just how he liked them. He wanted to reach out and brush his knuckles along the heated skin. Damn, she was sexy when she blushed. “That’s not… I mean… I mean, I didn’t mean…”
He reached forward and touched her thigh again. Yeah, he wanted to touch her there too, and not platonically as he was now. “I was teasing.” Cayden removed his left hand from her leg and tapped Geordi on his shoulder with his right. “Geordi, have you met Trixie yet?”
Geordi, a single noodle hanging out of his mouth, shook his head. He chewed vigorously and then swallowed hard. “Hi, Ms. Trixie!” His deep voice did not fit with the innocence behind it. It threw most people off, but Cayden watched the mix of emotions cross her face, from confusion to sympathy, and was pleased none of them were disdain. Geordi had already been dealt a rough hand and didn’t deserve any more. “What are you here for? I lost the car.”
Trixie glanced to Cayden, obviously not understanding. He leaned in and said softly, “Geordi was arrested for being the lookout for a crew. He was supposed to stay with the car but got distracted and then got lost. The crew was caught with the stolen jewelry when Geordi wandered back towards them. If he’d just kept walking, the police would have never known he’d been involved.”
Pity crossed her face and then she smiled at Geordi. “Hi, Geordi. I have a lot of cars, if you ever want to come take a look at them.”
His eyes widened in excitement. He whirled so fast towards Mr. Wynn that he knocked over his water glass. Cayden quickly moved to catch it, thankfully before too much was spilt. Geordi didn’t even notice. “Please, Mr. Wynn! Can I? Please, please, please?”
Mr. Wynn sent Trixie a questioning look, to which she nodded. He looked affectionately at Geordi. “I’ll take you tomorrow after work. How’s that?” Geordi nodded his head energetically. Mr. Wynn looked back at Trixie. “Around three-thirty, Trix?”
She nodded again. “Sure. I’ll text Joey now so he can remind me.”
Cayden’s spine stiffened as his fist tightened around his fork. Who the fuck was Joey?
Post dinner was interesting, to say the least. Trixie and Peggy were sitting in the living room while Cayden, Geordi, Paul, Greg, and the rest of the men cleaned up the kitchen. Peggy had given Cayden an out because he’d helped her cook dinner, but Cayden hadn’t taken it. Trixie was glad about that. She needed some time away from him.
The man smelled too delicious for his own good—or rather for her own good. He was as tempting as a perfectly ripe strawberry waiting to be devoured. And his mismatched eyes drew her in like a moth to the flame.
Damn it. She did not need this right now.
Peggy reached forward to take her hand. It was only then that Trixie realized she was staring in the direction of the kitchen. Shit. Had she been hoping to catch a glimpse of him? Yeah, probably.
“He’s a real sweetheart.”
Trixie flinched. That was not what she needed to hear. Why couldn’t Peggy have said he was a bastard of the first degree, selfish, and liked to kick puppies? But even if she had, would Trixie have believed it? She’d seen how sweet he’d been with Geordi.
Trixie purposefully repositioned herself on the couch so she was facing Peggy with her back to the kitchen. “Geordi is a sweetheart,” she stubbornly corrected.
Unfortunately, she didn’t fool Peggy. Instead, her surrogate aunt gave her a knowing look. “I’m worried about you, honey. You’ve closed yourself off from the world. All you do is work on those cars.”
“That’s my job, Tìa.” But she knew Peggy was right. Cars made sense to her in a way that people never had, and never would. She could make an engine purr like a kitten on catnip, but she couldn’t get a man to call her for a second date. She didn’t know if that was ironic, but it certainly was sad. Borderline pathetic.
Peggy squeezed the hand she held. “I know it’s been hard since AJ—”
“Don’t.” Trixie ripped her hand out from under Peggy’s. “I don’t want to talk about AJ.” She stood up to put distance between Peggy and her, and made sure to keep her back to the kitchen too. “How about we talk about you? You’ve got eight guys staying here. That must be a handful.”
Peggy let out a low sigh before standing up from the couch and approaching her. Damn it. Why couldn’t she have just stayed on the damn couch? That way, at least the coffee table was between them.
“I know someone else who’s been having a hard time.” Peggy gripped her by the shoulders and, with a strength the older woman shouldn’t have possessed, turned Trixie in the direction of the kitchen. Peggy was nearly six inches shorter than Trixie, so she looped her arm around her waist instead of her shoulders. It was the way she hugged Trixie since she’d hit her growth spurt. “Baby, someone just needs to give that boy a chance.” Her arm tightened slightly as she added, “What if it was AJ in there? What if he needed just one person to give him a fighting chance? Wouldn’t you want someone to give it to him?”
Trixie wanted to flinch. She wanted to deny the desire to help him. She wanted to leave this place and forget about Cayden Russo and his sexy mismatched eyes. So why was she standing there, staring into the doorway of the kitchen, praying he’d come into her view?
Geordi was putting away a dish in a tall cabinet, saw her, and waved like a little kid seeing his best friend. Trixie couldn’t not wave back.
Biting the inside of her lip, she turned towards Peggy. “That’s a low blow, and you know it.”
The woman grinned despite Trixie’s frustration at her. “Baby, of course it was. How else was I going to get you to agree to take him on?”
Trixie dropped her head into her hand. “I don’t even know if I have a position for him. And is it even legal? I mean, with his parole?”
She wasn’t looking at her, but she imagined Peggy nodding based on her next words. “It is. I checked with his rehabilitation officer. He can work on the cars, but he can’t handle monetary transactions or drive the vehicles. His license was suspended for the duration of his parole.”
Trixie scowled. “You’re driving me nuts here.”
Peggy encircled Trix into her arms. “I know, baby. It’s like the icing on the cake that has been my day.”
Trixie snorted, giggled, and then laughed. She dropped her hand from her face to embrace Peggy back. Resting her chin on top of Peggy’s head, she said, “I can’t believe you used AJ against me.”
Peggy tightened her grip. “Never, baby. I just wanted you to look at Cayden from a different perspective.” She stepped back and placed a hand on Trixie’s cheek. “AJ’s not coming back, sweetheart. It’s sad, but it’s the truth. You and Addy both need to understand that and move on. You can’t put your lives on hold for him.”
Trixie closed her eyes and let out a long sigh. “I know you’re right. I just…”
“I know, baby.” Peggy reached forward to take her back into her arms.
Having been raised by her papá, abuelo, and older hermanos, Peggy’s hugs had always been special to her. She’d been the mother Trixie wished she’d had growing up. When her papá had chickened out of her period and sex talks, it had been Peggy who’d stepped up to talk to Trixie. She might call herself Trixie’s surrogate aunt, but she was in fact the mother of Trixie’s heart.
“He is hot.”
Trixie nearly busted a lung laughing at Peggy’s truthful statement.
Cayden hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. He’d been walking down the hallway to try to talk to Trixie again when he heard Mrs. Wynn mention someone named AJ and Trixie’s defensive words. Who was AJ? Who was Joey? Why the fuck was it that Trixie seemed to be surrounded by these men? And why did she not have an issue being near them, but she fought being near Cayden?
Whoever AJ was, it seemed Cayden owed him for smoothing his way into working with Trixie. Her laugh was pure music. Cayden could stand there for hours, leaning his head against the wall, and just listen to it. But he decided not to push his luck. He was pleased with the turn of her attitude and decided to leave the women alone. He’d get his time with Trixie soon enough.
He turned and froze like a deer in the headlights. Mr. Wynn was standing right behind him with his arms crossed over his chest. Busted. He indicated for Cayden to follow him.
Like a child being sent to the principal’s office, Cayden’s shoulders slumped as he trailed after the halfway-house owner.
Mr. Wynn’s office had an open door policy. The file cabinets were locked, and the computer and phone were password protected. Mr. Wynn did not believe in locked doors. The residents of his home were not prisoners. They had rules, like anyone living under someone else’s roof, but what they did was their own choosing. And therefore, they were solely responsible for the consequences of those actions.
Which was also why Mr. and Mrs. Wynn did not hesitate to call the police on rulebreakers. They were not in elementary school, still learning their way in the world. They were grown men and would be treated as such.
Mr. Wynn indicated to the chair in front of his desk. Cayden sat, ready to be reprimanded for eavesdropping. To his surprise, though, Mr. Wynn sat down next to him in the dual chair, rather than across from him.
“My Peggy is a very special woman. She has enough love in her heart for every single person who walks through those doors, whether they deserve it or not. She will always see the good in people.” He leaned closer to Cayden. “Always.”
Cayden nodded, not really sure what he was supposed to do or say.
“Trixie’s grandfather was my best friend. We grew up together, raised our kids together. He was lucky enough to have grandchildren. I took Trixie and her brothers under my wing too. To this day, I am still saddened by my friend’s passing.” He paused then, glancing out of the open office door. “But I look at that girl, and I see him.” He tapped his chest, repeating with even more emotion, “I see him. His goodness, his strength, and his weaknesses.” He looked Cayden in the eyes. “Bobby always tried his hardest at everything he did. He had to prove himself as a Latino, a father, a grandfather, and a businessman. Trixie is the same way. I love that girl like she’s my daughter and granddaughter all wrapped up into one incredible package.”
He leaned forward, placing his nose less than an inch from Cayden’s. “So if you hurt that girl, physically, emotionally, financially, romantically, metaphorically, I will not send you back to jail. Jail would be too good for you. I won’t sic her older brothers on you. I won’t even tell Mr. Jones what happened. You’ll just…disappear, never to be seen or heard from again.”
Mr. Wynn sat back in his chair, cool as a cucumber.
Cayden actually had to remember how to breathe. Well, damn. He’d been through some intense situations, but somehow that paternal threat had surpassed all of them.
“Am I understood?” Mr. Wynn asked.
He cleared his throat, sitting up more. “I have no intention of hurting her, Mr. Wynn.”
“Good.” Mr. Wynn slapped him on the knee like they were old friends catching up. “Now, we need to discuss your new job with your new boss. Should I go get her?”
Mr. Wynn left the room, returning quickly with Trixie in tow. Cayden leaped to his feet.
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. Crap, had she decided not to offer him the job after all? Then she rounded on Mr. Wynn. “Did you give him the vanishing into thin air speech?” Cayden raised an eyebrow, and Mr. Wynn just shrugged. Trixie scoffed. “Ignore him. He’s been giving boys that speech since I was in the fifth grade.”
She took the seat Mr. Wynn had vacated to go get her. Cayden also sat back down. She crossed her legs, and Cayden’s dick decided that Cayden was a fucking moron for preferring her in coveralls.
Fuck, he was so screwed. He needed this job, but he’d be damned if he could get his dick to behave. If he somehow didn’t end up making an ass of himself, his blue balls were certainly going to be the death of him.
