Once she began to live with him and he’d done an effective job of isolating her from friends, he’d shown who he really was. He’d never raised a hand to her, but his words were weapons. It didn’t matter if he yelled them or whispered them or hissed them in her ear—they all hurt.
They all pierced holes in her flesh until she couldn’t breathe, until she didn’t even recognize herself anymore.
It wasn’t until Ivy and Violet came to live with Alex and Robby that Alex began to see just how bad it had gotten. So they’d picked up and left one day while Robby was at work. Alex couldn’t imagine how much the man had raged when he came home to an empty apartment.
They’d moved to Tory and although there’d been some growing pains, they’d settled in. Alex was working a job she loved, where she could still be close to her sister and watch her niece grow.
Ivy hadn’t had that much luck with men either. Violet’s father had abandoned her as soon as she got pregnant. They’d both been committed to a spinster lifestyle until Brent came charging in and stole her sister’s heart.
But that was okay, because Ivy was happy and loved, and Violet had a great father figure in her life now.
Alex had thought she’d be okay by herself, and she had been until last night, when one too-gorgeous-for-his-own-good Brit had shown her that there was more out there.
She shook her head and opened her eyes, fisting her hand in the fur at Honeybear’s neck. It had just been sex. She needed to get over it, especially because she’d never see the man again.
Ivy and Violet were on their way back, so Alex tried to relax her face. She didn’t smile, because that probably would have alarmed Ivy if Alex all of a sudden got cheerful, but she didn’t want to look angry. Honeybear hopped to her feet and trotted toward Violet, who’d picked up the Frisbee again.
Ivy sat back down on the blanket and stuck a pretzel in her mouth.
Alex looked at her younger sister, the way her dark, wavy hair spilled around her shoulders, the way her blue eyes looked bright even in the sunlight. Some people used to think they were twins, until Ivy decided she liked clothes and makeup and Alex decided she liked boots and engines.
Ivy turned to Alex and met her gaze.
Alex glanced at Violet, ensuring she was out of earshot, then licked her lips. “I, uh, met someone last night.”
Ivy’s chewing slowed, then she swallowed. “Okay.”
“It was . . . different. Shook me up is all.”
Ivy’s eyes narrowed. “Did he hurt you?”
Alex held up a hand. “No, no. Calm down, tiger. He was . . . just different. And not because he had a British accent”—Ivy’s eyebrows shot up—“but because he treated me . . . well. Really well. For a one-night stand. So I’m quiet because I’m dealing with the aftermath of a hookup that affected me in a way hookups never do, okay?”
Ivy blinked at her. “You hooked up with a British guy?”
“Yeah.”
“Did he say ‘bloody’? Please tell me he said something like, ‘I can’t be arsed, but that’s bloody brilliant.’ ”
Alex stared at her.
Ivy shrugged. “I watch the BBC sometimes. They have good miniseries.”
Alex laughed. “Uh, well, he didn’t say that phrase, but he did say ‘bloody.’ ”
“Wow,” Ivy muttered.
“And he was hot, and had the most stuck-up name. He wore a suit. I mean . . . he was the opposite of what I’m normally attracted to, but he had great hands and hair I wanted to run my fingers through, so I went for it.”
Ivy nibbled her lip. “How did you meet him?”
“His car was acting up. He pulled into the shop after we were closed. I offered to drive him to his hotel, but he wanted to buy me dinner as a thank-you. And, well, dinner was great and then I didn’t exactly drop him off at his hotel.”
“Will you see him again?”
Alex shook her head. “Nah, he was only in town for business and he said he’d be leaving today. They’ll probably fix his car and then he’ll be gone.”
“And are you okay with that?”
“Of course I’m okay with that.” Her voice came out sharper than she’d intended.
Ivy didn’t back down. “You don’t have to snap at me.”
Alex heaved a sigh. “I don’t even know him. Hell, he could have a girlfriend back in New York or London. He could be royalty or some shit. I don’t know. I was an easy American who he met on a business trip.”
Ivy frowned. “Don’t talk about yourself like that.”
Alex blew out a breath and grinned. “Hey, he was easy too.”
Ivy pursed her lips to hide a smile. “You’re awful.”
“Look, it’s not a big deal. But you wanted to know why I was quiet, and there it is. We don’t keep secrets, remember?”
Ivy’s eyes lowered. When she’d been dating Brent, she’d kept it from Alex, afraid that Alex would be upset that she’d gotten involved with a man when they’d both sworn them off. But Alex was more angry that she’d kept it from her than that she’d found a man to love. “Yeah, no secrets.”
“I didn’t say that to make you feel guilty or anything.”
Ivy watched her daughter wrestle Honeybear to the ground. “I know.”
“Anyway, it’s fine, it’s over. I have work to concentrate on. They’re giving Gabe more hours, and he’s a pain in my ass.”
Ivy laughed. “Aw, he can’t be that bad.”
Alex rolled her eyes. “He stares at my boobs like all the time. I can’t even bend over or he’s ogling my ass. Kid is a walking hormone.”
“He’s not a kid. Maybe if you and Cal quit calling him kid, he’d grow up.”
Alex huffed. Her sister had a point. “Well, I’m just trying to lead him right. He’s already scared of Jack, so I don’t want the guy to have more reasons to yell at Gabe.” Jack was Brent and Cal’s father, the owner of Payton and Sons. Gruff as hell, but he had a big heart, even if it took a lot of digging to get there.
“Fine, so I’ll forget about your hot British guy. But I’m glad you told me. And if you need to talk about it anymore—”
Alex waved a hand. “Yeah, yeah, you’re there for me. You love me. I’m the best sister of all time, yadda.”
Ivy laughed, shoving Alex’s shoulder. And Alex tried her very best to push that intoxicating, accented male voice to the back of her mind so she could enjoy the day with her family.
SPENCER STARED AT the two men, who were clearly brothers or at least close relatives. They both had gray-blue eyes. One stood with a cocked head, grinning. The other was scowling.
Spencer didn’t prefer the grin or the scowl. He preferred his car fixed so he could go home. He rubbed his temples, wishing he had more caffeine, but he’d woken up in his hotel room feeling like he needed to get the hell out of this town. It’d been fortunate the hotel had a car service that drove him to the garage.
The man who was grinning stepped forward with his hand out. “I’m Brent Payton.”
Ah, so he must own it, if the sign on the front of the building meant anything. Spencer extended his hand. “Leslie Spencer. Erm, I go by Spencer.”
For some reason, that made Brent grin harder.
The other man grunted out one syllable. “Cow.”
“I’m sorry?” Spencer asked.
The man blinked those steel eyes at him. “Cow.”
Spencer frowned. “Cow? Like moo cow?”
Brent began to laugh and the other man’s face didn’t change. He spoke slowly this time, drawing out the word. “Cal. My name is Cal.”
Christ, these fucking people. “Oh, okay, pleasure to meet you, Cal.”
“I told you that you mumble,” Brent said, elbowing his brother. “Enunciate like a human.”
“I’ll enunciate you,” Cal growled.
Spencer thought he looked a little scary, but Brent only laughed in his face.
These were the men Alex worked with?
A teenager emerged from the back room, sipping from a Starbucks cup. The kid wore black Converse shoes with skulls on them, a pair of cutoff denim shorts, a tank top that exposed most of his chest, and his hair was . . . green. Bright green.
Spencer’s father’s shop in Manchester consisted of three middle-aged men who rarely discussed anything that didn’t have to do with vehicles. Payton and Sons was clearly not his father’s shop.
The kid stopped next to Cal and peered up at Spencer with big brown eyes.
Spencer nodded at him and then turned to Cal. When the man stared back at him impassively, Spencer cleared his throat and turned to Brent instead. “So I’m here about the Mercedes there.” He pointed to his red sedan in the parking lot. “Alex said she’d leave some sort of note?”
“Oh, he’s British!” the teenager shouted. Spencer flinched, and a headache began to form at his temples.
“Yeah, we’re all aware, Asher,” Brent said.
“Do you live in London?” the kid asked.
It was like most Americans thought the entire United Kingdom was made up of London. “Um, no, I live in New York.”
“Oooh.” Asher’s eyes were big.
“Anyway,” Brent said. “We’ll take care of your car. You wanna wait around until it’s done or you need a ride somewhere?”