Opening Up
Page 7
“I’m telling her you said that.”
“To Pat, that’s a love poem.” Asa grinned, thinking of how awesome his mom was.
“Speaking of that, the arbor you built over her back patio is really nice.”
Asa had gone into the army because it was that or end up in jail. He’d had more anger and potential for violence inside him than he could process. Years spent on the verge of trouble or running from it had left him feeling out of control and exhausted.
So he’d enlisted and then spent several years using the opportunity to make himself into a better man. A better son. To keep himself from landing in trouble in the army, he’d sent home most of his pay. It had been enough to get his mom and two sisters into a safer neighborhood.
He’d kept sending his mom what he could, even once he’d returned to the U.S. and left the military. Eventually, after the surgery, he’d convinced her and his youngest sister to move out to Seattle. It meant everything to him that he could provide for her at long last after she’d fought so hard most of her life just to survive.
“She needed some shade back there. Those big windows made her kitchen and living room way too warm.” He didn’t like her to be uncomfortable. “Anyway, what were you doing over there? You spoil her worse than I do.”
“I had a bunch of green peppers. I know she likes them. No big deal. She bragged on you so long I made her stop because I was getting a complex. Then she made me a grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup to cheer me up. Your mom is rad.”
Asa snorted a laugh. “Just don’t tell her about the motorcycles at the track. She’d make my life hell if she found out I was racing.”
Twisted Steel was magnificent.
PJ turned in a slow circle as she stood in the middle of their showroom. Just to her left, a 1970 Chevelle. Candy-apple red.
Big windows fronted the space, but they managed to still give it a sort of intentionally gritty feel inside with black leather couches placed in a way to look at the cars and bikes on display like art.
She loved it so very much. Bold and clever. It took itself very seriously when it came to the product but also had a little bit of tongue-in-cheek self-deprecation. Delicious design choices all over the place, including a custom Harley Softail in black matte that gave her a little shiver.
She’d thought it impossible for Asa to be any hotter, until she saw this place.
“If you’re done getting all wet over cars can we get your makeup done?” Audra called out.
“Do you see this?” PJ pointed at the Softail’s back tire. “It’s so fat and delicious. I might actually be maybe a little wet, yes. But I’m just telling you that because we’re so close.”
PJ plopped down in front of a makeshift makeup station mirror.
“Go look at your outfits with Stella so she can get you styled for each.” Audra had taken on the task of organizing the shoot. She pointed at a rolling rack of clothes that had PJ’s name on it.
“I see a theme here.” Stella, who was acting as their makeup person for the day, took in each outfit.
Tom bounded into their space, amped up on coffee. “What? She’s like a ridiculously sexed-up girl next door. Guys love that. We all know it. So work it and sell my decks!”
“You can’t be here now. I have it handled.” Audra shoved him out and closed the door to the small conference room where they’d set up.
“He’s like a hamster on crack,” PJ muttered.
“The cutest hamster ever, though. Here.” Audra shoved an outfit PJ’s way.
The first dress turned out to be a pale blue-and-white gingham. She wore it with red glitter pumps, and Stella teased PJ’s hair up in the back and curled her bangs before dividing at the nape of her neck into two braids.
Thick liner, red lips, and a beauty mark and she found herself shoved back out.
“PJ, come over and meet Frank, he’s the photographer.” Tom introduced them. “We’re set up in the shop so come on with me.”
She tried not to trip and fall as she kept stopping to gape at things. Where the showroom had been all about the art of the completed project – a perfect experience for a potential client – the shop, with its bays and workstations, was clearly the heart of the operation.
High windows sent shafts of light down onto the shop floor and to the offices that ringed it. It was orderly and tidy without being compulsively so.
She skidded to a halt when she saw the car she’d be posing with.
“Sweet mother of Bob Dylan,” she breathed out at the sight of the deep blue 1950 Cadillac roadster convertible before her.
“I take it that means you approve?” Frank asked her.
“I might need some alone time with this car later.”
“I know the owner. He might allow it.”
She turned to catch sight of Asa walking over. Walking! Ha. Prowling was a far better word. The air seemed to hum around him, and she found it a little harder to breathe. Especially when he came to a halt just inches from where she stood.
“This is yours?” She might have an orgasm just looking at the car. And now she knew it was his.
He nodded, the corner of his mouth hitching up slightly. “Morning, PJ.”
“Morning, Asa. I’m going to have a moment with your car, but I won’t do anything she doesn’t want.”
He stepped closer. “What if she does? What if she wants it all?”
Man, was she in over her head. Just flirting with him was taking all her effort. What would he be like in bed? What would he kiss like?
“To Pat, that’s a love poem.” Asa grinned, thinking of how awesome his mom was.
“Speaking of that, the arbor you built over her back patio is really nice.”
Asa had gone into the army because it was that or end up in jail. He’d had more anger and potential for violence inside him than he could process. Years spent on the verge of trouble or running from it had left him feeling out of control and exhausted.
So he’d enlisted and then spent several years using the opportunity to make himself into a better man. A better son. To keep himself from landing in trouble in the army, he’d sent home most of his pay. It had been enough to get his mom and two sisters into a safer neighborhood.
He’d kept sending his mom what he could, even once he’d returned to the U.S. and left the military. Eventually, after the surgery, he’d convinced her and his youngest sister to move out to Seattle. It meant everything to him that he could provide for her at long last after she’d fought so hard most of her life just to survive.
“She needed some shade back there. Those big windows made her kitchen and living room way too warm.” He didn’t like her to be uncomfortable. “Anyway, what were you doing over there? You spoil her worse than I do.”
“I had a bunch of green peppers. I know she likes them. No big deal. She bragged on you so long I made her stop because I was getting a complex. Then she made me a grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup to cheer me up. Your mom is rad.”
Asa snorted a laugh. “Just don’t tell her about the motorcycles at the track. She’d make my life hell if she found out I was racing.”
Twisted Steel was magnificent.
PJ turned in a slow circle as she stood in the middle of their showroom. Just to her left, a 1970 Chevelle. Candy-apple red.
Big windows fronted the space, but they managed to still give it a sort of intentionally gritty feel inside with black leather couches placed in a way to look at the cars and bikes on display like art.
She loved it so very much. Bold and clever. It took itself very seriously when it came to the product but also had a little bit of tongue-in-cheek self-deprecation. Delicious design choices all over the place, including a custom Harley Softail in black matte that gave her a little shiver.
She’d thought it impossible for Asa to be any hotter, until she saw this place.
“If you’re done getting all wet over cars can we get your makeup done?” Audra called out.
“Do you see this?” PJ pointed at the Softail’s back tire. “It’s so fat and delicious. I might actually be maybe a little wet, yes. But I’m just telling you that because we’re so close.”
PJ plopped down in front of a makeshift makeup station mirror.
“Go look at your outfits with Stella so she can get you styled for each.” Audra had taken on the task of organizing the shoot. She pointed at a rolling rack of clothes that had PJ’s name on it.
“I see a theme here.” Stella, who was acting as their makeup person for the day, took in each outfit.
Tom bounded into their space, amped up on coffee. “What? She’s like a ridiculously sexed-up girl next door. Guys love that. We all know it. So work it and sell my decks!”
“You can’t be here now. I have it handled.” Audra shoved him out and closed the door to the small conference room where they’d set up.
“He’s like a hamster on crack,” PJ muttered.
“The cutest hamster ever, though. Here.” Audra shoved an outfit PJ’s way.
The first dress turned out to be a pale blue-and-white gingham. She wore it with red glitter pumps, and Stella teased PJ’s hair up in the back and curled her bangs before dividing at the nape of her neck into two braids.
Thick liner, red lips, and a beauty mark and she found herself shoved back out.
“PJ, come over and meet Frank, he’s the photographer.” Tom introduced them. “We’re set up in the shop so come on with me.”
She tried not to trip and fall as she kept stopping to gape at things. Where the showroom had been all about the art of the completed project – a perfect experience for a potential client – the shop, with its bays and workstations, was clearly the heart of the operation.
High windows sent shafts of light down onto the shop floor and to the offices that ringed it. It was orderly and tidy without being compulsively so.
She skidded to a halt when she saw the car she’d be posing with.
“Sweet mother of Bob Dylan,” she breathed out at the sight of the deep blue 1950 Cadillac roadster convertible before her.
“I take it that means you approve?” Frank asked her.
“I might need some alone time with this car later.”
“I know the owner. He might allow it.”
She turned to catch sight of Asa walking over. Walking! Ha. Prowling was a far better word. The air seemed to hum around him, and she found it a little harder to breathe. Especially when he came to a halt just inches from where she stood.
“This is yours?” She might have an orgasm just looking at the car. And now she knew it was his.
He nodded, the corner of his mouth hitching up slightly. “Morning, PJ.”
“Morning, Asa. I’m going to have a moment with your car, but I won’t do anything she doesn’t want.”
He stepped closer. “What if she does? What if she wants it all?”
Man, was she in over her head. Just flirting with him was taking all her effort. What would he be like in bed? What would he kiss like?
