Salvaged

“I’m Tessa.” She stuck out a hand and I noticed that her fingernails matched the ruby red of her lips. That seemed like a lot of effort to put into catching company for the evening. The most I’d done was put on a clean T-shirt.

I took her fingers in mine and watched as her gaze drifted over the dark spots of grease and oil that seemed to be a permanent part of my skin at this point. It didn’t matter how many times I scrubbed them, parts of the garage were always marking me as a man that got dirty and worked with his hands. She didn’t curl her lip or pull her hand away and wipe it on her very tight jeans. I always considered that a win. “Wheeler.”

Both her eyebrows lifted and a playful smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Is that your real name?”

I grinned back because that was a question I got a lot. I heard her suck in a breath as she watched my face when I smiled. My dirty hands might turn some women off but I’d never encountered one that was immune to my smile. God bless dimples. I’d never understood what the big deal was, but they were the reason Kallie noticed me when she first walked into the wrong class when we were in high school together, so I was always glad I had them. They made the work of going home with a willing woman far easier.

I slammed back the rest of my drink and set the empty glass on the bar in front of me. “It’s my last name.” My auto-shop teacher in high school had started calling me by my last name because there was another Hudson in the class. After a while he’d told me he’d never had a student that was so naturally skilled and adept with cars as I was, so the name became a badge of honor. You couldn’t be a guy named Wheeler and not know your way around all kinds of things that went fast and sounded loud and mean. I’d never had anyone invested in me enough to give me a nickname before. Never had anyone care enough to praise me or compliment me. After high school the name stuck because Wheeler was who I decided I wanted to be. He was someone worth something.

“I like it.” I bet she did. But I bet she liked the way my tattooed biceps flexed under the plain black cotton of my T-shirt even more. I’d started getting tattooed when I was really young. I had more skin that was marked than not. Now that I was single I was finding that women liked the ink and the body it covered almost as much as they liked my dimples. In fact, they liked the way I looked so much I didn’t have to put very much effort into trying to be charming or interesting if I wanted to get them into bed. It made me feel a little queasy when I thought about how superficial and unimportant it all was. I forced another smile to distract us both, which made her sigh.

“Thanks, it gets the job done.” I watched as she sucked on the straw some more, clearly waiting for me to give her some kind of sign that I was good to go. I wanted to be good to go, but the longer she stared at me, the more I silently compared her to the woman that stood in front of me earlier, obviously scared but forcing herself to do something nice for a stranger anyways. There was no question that there was something about the terrified and nervous Poppy that I found charming and endearing. This girl had none of that and it was making everything inside of me slam on the brakes instead of pushing the pedal down to move things along faster.

The empty glass in front of me disappeared and a full one reappeared. “Last one, Speedy.” The southern drawl lost its smooth edge as his gaze shifted between me and the blonde. “You want another one, doll?”

The girl paused like someone had hit a button on a remote that controlled her movements. Her huge fake eyelashes fluttered and dropped in reflex at the sound of Asa’s voice. She’d been so focused on me up until that point she didn’t realize there was other attractive and available dick hanging around. Objectively speaking, Asa was far better looking than I was. There was nothing about him that was difficult or complicated to look at. He hadn’t spent a lifetime covering up his skin in order to keep from being overlooked. There was also none of the edge that I had from being unwanted and left behind that sharpened his gaze. Hell, if I had to pick between the two of us, I would go with the southern bartender myself. He had an easy, effortless way about him that I most definitely did not have. I couldn’t remember the last time anything in my life had felt easy. Plus, he was charming as hell, something I most definitely was not.

“Uh … no. I’m good.” Her painted lips turned up at him the exact same way they had turned up at me and a shiver of unease shot down my spine.

I was tired of being second best and underappreciated. When the blonde turned back to me after Asa moved on to finish his last call, I pushed my untouched drink in her direction and hauled myself off of the barstool. “Last drink is on me. Have a good rest of the night.” She blinked at me in confusion and opened her mouth to say something but I shook my head and walked away from her before she could say anything else.

I really was good at saying no, much better than I was at saying yes. Even after the girl made me feel like a piece of meat, like nothing more than a dick that could be interchanged with any other dick for the night, I still didn’t have it in me to be a total asshole. I didn’t want my rejection or disinterest to hurt her because I was still in the throes of how badly Kallie’s desertion had hurt me. I wasn’t the type that lashed out, which made the fact I’d spilled my guts and dropped all my baggage at Poppy’s feet yesterday super unexpected. There was just something about that beautiful girl with her wounded eyes that made me want to assure her she wasn’t the only one feeling shredded and alone.

It was late fall in Denver, well past the time of year that you could be outside in the dark of night without a coat on. The chill in the air cleared up some of the fog in my head and cooled some of the still-simmering anger in my blood at being disregarded as I walked over to my perfectly restored and lovingly maintained ’67 Eldorado Cadillac. The car was my baby. She was the reason I took shop when I was a teenager and she was the thing that gave me purpose and directed me on the path that would lead to my own business and a way to provide for myself. My Caddy was my passion, the first thing that I’d ever owned that was mine outright, and she was a culmination of everything I’d ever been taught and had learned to apply to something real. There was no way in hell I was getting behind the wheel after a night of drinking. She had a million memories tied to her and I doubted I would be able to recover if anything took them away. I felt like my life hadn’t really had the chance to start until I walked into that tiny, undersupplied garage at Brookside High School and laid eyes on the mangled, dismantled beauty that was the former husk of my baby.

I ordered an Uber and propped a hip on the hood as the cold started to filter through my drunken melancholy. It and the idea of going home to an endlessly empty house made me shiver. I turned my head as the noise from the inside of the bar followed Asa out when he opened the door and did a quick scan of the parking lot. His gaze landed where I was leaning against the Caddy and I saw him let out a breath of relief. He shouted over his shoulder for someone to watch the bar for a second and then he let the heavy door shut behind him. He made his way over to where I was shivering and trying to keep my teeth from chattering.

“I was worried you were going to let the blonde take you home. Didn’t think I had to worry about you taking yourself home when you aren’t in any state to drive.” His breath left little puffs of vapor in the air and he didn’t bother to stop his teeth from clicking together as he rubbed his hands up and down his arms. “I like you, Speedy. Don’t make me take you to the ground for your keys.”

I held up my phone and showed him the map with the indicator that my Uber was only a few minutes away. “Called for a ride. I wouldn’t risk my car by driving drunk.”

He shook his head at me and rocked back on his heels. “You’re worried about your car and not yourself. You need someone to set you straight, Wheeler. I’ve been trying the last few weeks but I’m not getting through.”

I lifted an eyebrow and shrugged at him. “I come by for a drink and the company. I don’t remember signing up for a therapy session.”

He snorted at me and rolled his eyes. “You might not want to hear it, but you should listen anyway. When a man that’s made more than his fair share of mistakes sees another man driving off into the ditch, he isn’t much of a man unless he tries to get all those wheels back on the road. Sometimes it takes a tow truck, sometimes it only requires a little push from some helping hands. I understand your old lady did you wrong, but you aren’t going to make it right by drinking yourself into the kind of man you wouldn’t waste your time on if you ran across him.” He pointed a finger at me just as the Uber pulled into the lot and the driver flashed his lights. “Get yourself out of the ditch, Wheeler. There’s nothing good down there and all you’ll end up doing is spinning your wheels.”

I wobbled a little as I pushed myself off the car and put my phone in my back pocket. “I’m good at fixing things that are left behind and broken down, Asa. Don’t worry about me.” I had booze-fueled confidence to make the words sound more certain than they were.

He sighed again and looked down at the toes of his boots. “It’s never fun to see a good man get knocked down.” When he lifted his head back up there was concern stamped clearly across his face. “It’s even worse when that man doesn’t seem interested in getting himself back up. I’m cheaper than a shrink, Wheeler, and my office is a lot more fun.”

The man was going to be spreading himself thin if he was trying to save every lonely heart that sat down at his bar. He was weeks away from opening his own speakeasy-style bar in the heart of LoDo and that meant double the amount of advice to dole out to people that probably weren’t going to listen anyway.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Asa. Take care of that beauty.” Most would think I was talking about his pretty cop girlfriend, but anyone who knew me or knew anything about how a real gearhead operated would know I was talking about the Nova. He was doing the bulk of the restorations himself but occasionally he would bring it by the shop for a mechanical issue his limited knowledge couldn’t handle. It was a sweet ride and I was glad it found a good home. Besides, it wasn’t like anyone needed to tell Asa to take care of his girl; he treated the redheaded cop like she was his entire reason for existing … kind of the way I’d treated Kallie until it all went south.

I gave the Uber driver the address to my place in Curtis Park and tried to tamp down the now familiar hollow and vacant feeling that came with heading home to an empty house. I’d bought the place a hot second after I slid my ring on Kallie’s finger thinking that she was finally ready to settle down and grow up. We’d been together since we were nothing more than kids; however, while I’d gotten more ambitious and more focused on building something impossible to take away from me over the years, she seemed stuck in place. She was always a handful, a bit of a princess with an annoying tendency toward drama and hysterics, but she loved me and she never left me. So I put up with it all. Now that she was gone, hindsight was startlingly clear and I could see all the ways that we had been moving in different directions long before her first indiscretion. I wanted stability and a solid foundation. She wanted to party and be free all while letting me take care of her and support her. Being needed was nice, but not when it turned into being needed for the things I could provide instead of being needed for the man that I was. I’d turned into an ATM machine instead of a boyfriend and a lover. The worst part was I let it happen by not being able to tell Kallie no. I was too worried that if I denied her she would go. In the end it didn’t matter how much I gave, or how hard I’d loved: she went anyway.

“Whoa, what happened to that house?” The Uber driver’s voice pulled me out of my morose thoughts. He was motioning toward the blackened and burned shell of the house that was across the street from mine. It was the house where Brighton Walker and his daughter, Avett, had lived until trouble came calling in a pretty dramatic way.

My buddy Zeb had bought the ruined dwelling and was slowly working to restore it, but the progress was slow and the building looked like it had seen much better days, because it had.

“Fire, but nobody was hurt.” The driver muttered something I didn’t hear and pulled into my driveway. I tripped over my own feet as I climbed out of the back of the car and I hated that my hands shook as it took several tries to get the key in the keyhole on the front door. I’d never been much of a drinker. When your mom was an addict and clinically unhinged, that tended to make indulging in anything that had the ability to lead to a habit leave a bad taste. The last few months I’d been drinking to forget and to stop the memories, but leaving my car behind and being hungover in the morning was starting to wear thin.

I needed to find a better way to cope with all the things that were eating at my insides. Unbidden, an image of wide, golden eyes looking at me like I’d kicked the puppy she was holding when I told her Kallie was pregnant with my baby and I had no clue what I was doing and no time for another innocent soul in my life rolled through my hazy mind. It also baffled and confused me why that news made her look like she was going to fall over. I wasn’t exactly thrilled that Kallie was having my kid, but I couldn’t see a reason why that would affect Poppy, especially as drastically as it had.

Once I was inside my house I tossed my keys on the fancy table that Kallie had insisted on buying for the hallway. The dumb thing cost a bundle and all I used it for was a key holder and a place to toss the mail when I remembered to check it. It was another reminder that I should have put my foot down, should have found a better balance, not that any of that mattered now.

Sighing, I kicked off my boots, pulled off my T-shirt with one hand, and plopped myself down on the couch. When Kallie still lived here I would have had to completely strip and shower before I was allowed to sit on the ridiculously expensive, pale gray piece of furniture. It was not a couch that was man-friendly … especially when that man was rolling around under cars and was shoulders deep in engines all day. I’d been horrified when the delivery guys dropped it off, but Kallie cried and told me I didn’t understand her decorating vision, so I relented. Now I didn’t give two shits if the dumb thing ended up with grease stains and dirt all over it. I was going shopping for a new one as soon as I had a day off and was sober enough to remember I needed a new couch.

I put my feet up on the coffee table, turned on the TV, not bothering to turn it down when screaming, bitching housewives from some county came on the screen. With any luck the SoCo would do its job and I would drift away before the loneliness suffocated me.

The last thought I had before I let my eyes shut was that if I’d taken the puppy from Poppy there would have been something waiting for me to get back home … hell, I would have had a reason not to go out in the first place.

Maybe a puppy was just the kind of practice I needed before my actual baby made its appearance. And if pretty Poppy Cruz wanted to give me a hand figuring out how to be a good puppy parent, I definitely wouldn’t complain. For the first time in months I went to sleep with an almost smile on my face instead of the frown that felt like it was as much a part of my skin as my tattoos.

Poppy

Trying to get the rambunctious puppy to walk on a leash was turning out to be more of a challenge than I thought it would be. He was tiny, but his little body was strong and he was determined not to cooperate. I was sure we made quite a sight as I struggled in vain to get him to walk next to me. Instead, he danced and leaped around at the end of the lead like a balloon with the air rushing out of it as he bounded from one smell to the next.

I was freezing because I hadn’t bothered to change out of my scrubs after work and the weather was fast turning toward winter temperatures. My heart might be firmly located in Colorado but my blood was still used to the Texas sun and sweltering heat. It didn’t help matters that I could probably stand to add a few pounds on my naturally thin frame. I’d never been built with the kind of curves that could stop traffic like Salem was, and after my husband abducted me at gunpoint and ran with me across state lines, all while doing the most horrible things imaginable to my body and my mind, I’d lost what little appetite I had to begin with. I could go several days without eating because wayward thoughts and memories of being violated and tortured had a sneaky way of creeping into my mind when I least expected them. They always made my stomach turn. I knew I should do a better job taking care of myself, but it was easy to forget that I deserved better, so I was constantly reminding myself to take each little victory as a sign that I was on the right path. There were days I ate three square meals and managed to keep it all down, but there had yet to be a night that I didn’t wake up in a cold sweat with a scream locked in my throat and my heart racing so fast it felt like it was going to explode.

I rounded the corner at the end of my block and came to a halt. The puppy took that as a sign that we were done playing and started jumping all over my lower legs and pawing at my shins. He whined at me until I picked him up, and as soon as he could reach my face, his little tongue started darting all over my chin and cheeks. I wondered if he could feel the tension that made my limbs stiff and the anxiety that tightened all my muscles. I felt my breath catch in the back of my throat and there was no stopping my eyes from rapidly blinking to make sure what I was seeing was real and not a figment of my imagination.

He looked like one of those black-and-white art prints that hung in every diner and restaurant I’d ever eaten in. The one that was a throwback to another era when cool was something you had to cultivate and couldn’t buy on Amazon. He was leaning against a black-and-silver car that looked like it should be on the cover of a hot-rod magazine and not parked on a busy and crowded Capitol Hill street. He had on dark jeans and a dark canvas jacket that had the logo of his garage embroidered on the front. His ankles were crossed on the curb in front of him and one booted foot bounced up and down, giving the impression that he’d been waiting for me for a while. His arms were crossed over his chest and his eyes were locked on mine as I stood still, unsure what to do. He had an effortless kind of charisma that radiated off of him. It was equal parts intimidating and irresistible. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to rush toward him or run as far from him as possible.

The puppy made the decision for me. Seeing another human, and thus another opportunity for pats and rubs, he threw his wiggling little body out of my arms before I could react. He hit the ground with a sharp yelp and then bolted right for Wheeler. I let out a gasp and took off after him thinking I could catch the end of the leash that was trailing behind him. I didn’t want him to run into the street or veer off into a yard where he didn’t belong. I was light-years away from being able to handle a confrontation with a hostile stranger that didn’t want the puppy in their yard.

I didn’t need to worry because Wheeler pushed his long, lean frame off the polished side of the car and reached the scrambling animal within a few strides. He crouched down as the puppy hurled himself into his arms and scooped the excited bundle up in one fluid motion. Then he was rising to his full height, which meant he was towering over me when I reached where he was standing. I was embarrassed at how out of breath I was. I was supposed to be stronger than I was before, but I could hardly handle a little jog up the block or the way my heart raced at the sight of him.

I shook my head and put my hands on my hips as I looked up into those arctic eyes. He was scratching the puppy under the chin and looking at me from under lashes that had the barest hint of red in them. “Why don’t you have a coat on?”

It wasn’t what I was expecting but his question reminded me that I was cold and that the lightweight hoodie that had the Saints of Denver logo on it wasn’t doing much to keep the bitter chill in the air off my skin. The shirt was probably the most exciting garment I had in my closet. It was the only thing I owned that was bright and colorful. I rubbed my arms up and down and fired my own question right back at him. “What are you doing here?”

The puppy barked like he was telling me not to be rude but I was unsettled by Wheeler’s unexpected appearance. It wasn’t the typical unsettled that I struggled with because he was a man that I didn’t know. It was the kind of unsettled that made parts of my body I forget could react to an attractive man feel warm and tingly. The kind of unsettled that had me involuntarily leaning closer to him as he started to shift so that he could pull his heavy jacket off one arm without letting go of the dog.

“I wanted to talk to you about the dog. Did you find someone to take him yet?” He shifted the puppy to his now bare arm and I watched the endless amounts of ink that covered his skin move and flex as he shook his other arm free of the coat.

“Uh … not really.” The truth was I hadn’t put that much effort into finding someone because I didn’t want to let the puppy go. In just a few days I’d grown attached even though I knew I wasn’t allowed to keep him in my apartment. I’d already asked since Dixie was allowed to keep Dolly, but the landlord informed me they were grandfathered in before the laws surrounding pit bulls in Denver changed. My little guy wasn’t that lucky.

My response made Wheeler chuckle. He stared at me silently as he held out the coat he’d taken off in his free hand.

“Put this on.” I stared at him like he’d suddenly started speaking Russian until he shook the coat again and frowned at me. His voice was serious and left no room for argument when he repeated the command. “Put this on, Poppy. I want to talk to you and I know you aren’t comfortable inviting me up to your apartment.”

I winced at the reminder of how spazzy and skittish I acted when I’d had to knock on Dixie’s door while he was house-sitting for her. He’d invited me into the apartment and it took every single ounce of courage I had to step over the threshold. Once inside with him, I’d been so jumpy and twitchy that both Wheeler and Dolly had given me a wide berth and plenty of space to freak out. Wheeler went to find what I needed for Dolly and didn’t even try to hand it off to me. He set it on the floor a few feet away from where I was quaking and shivering and then took himself all the way back across the room to the kitchen so I could gather everything up and make my escape without having to get too close to him. I’d wanted to cry tears of gratitude and sob with remorse at the same time. I hated that I couldn’t fight through the fear and just act normal.

I took the jacket he was holding out for me with shaking hands and fought the urge to bury my nose in it to see if it smelled like him. I liked the way that he always kind of smelled like he’d had his hands in something mechanical and messy. There was no expensive cologne for Wheeler, just the clean smell of soap, the lemony scent of whatever he used in that thick head of reddish-brown hair, and the persistent trace of how he made his living. It was honest and it was real. The way it surrounded me was intoxicating as I slid my arms into the sleeves of his jacket. The material went down well past my fingertips and the bottom hit me at midthigh. I was instantly warm, wrapped up in his scent and his lingering body heat. In fact, I couldn’t recall ever being this cozy.