After Hours (InterMix)(80)

“Uh-huh.”

I snatched her keys off the kitchen counter and tossed them at her. “Don’t make yourself late.”

Amber shouldered her purse and kissed Jack good-bye. “I will find out,” she warned me with an accusing finger. “I’ll be back a little after five. Oh and don’t let him pick at that hole in the couch. I can’t keep his frigging fingers out of there.”

I rolled my eyes at the soft cuss and waved good-bye.

If only this Amber were here all the time. Fun Amber, harried but generally responsible Amber. My mischievous baby sister. But the second Marco or whoever the next Marco might be rolled up in his stupid truck or SUV or on a motorcycle . . . poof. Self-destruct Amber, come on down!

Though for now, things were peaceful. Jack was behaving, which meant life must have been pretty uneventful of late. When Marco was coming and going, Jack got way less of Amber’s attention, and you could tell from the way he acted out. But our day was nearly crisis free, the only incident being when a particularly large ant ran across Jack’s ankle and scared the bejesus out of him.

Kids aren’t so bad, really, I thought, kissing his hair as he sat sleeping on my lap, conked halfway through a DVD. I’d spent so long assuming I didn’t want any, having felt cheated of my childhood, raising Amber, then giving up my carefree college years to care for my grandma. I’d grown convinced I didn’t have the energy to make that serious a commitment again . . . But Jack did weird stuff to me. Made me think maybe I had more capacity to love than I’d let myself believe. Or maybe the responsibility just didn’t intimidate me so much lately, after the kind of babysitting I’d been doing at Larkhaven.

Amber got home early with bags of fast food in tow, enough for the three of us. While she gathered plates and glasses, I noticed another bag she’d left by the wall, heart sinking to discover it held a twelve-pack of beer. Marco’s beer.

Like you’re even surprised?

“Marco coming over?” I asked, in that incriminatingly casual tone Amber would have no trouble seeing right through.

“What? No.” And I could see right through her, too.

“You bought his brand,” I said, nudging the bag with my toe.

“It’s my brand, too.”

I shot her a look that said I wasn’t fooled, then dropped it. It’d been a good day. A fight-free day. Far be it from me to wreck that.

At six thirty I got my jacket on and kissed Jack night-night.

“Thanks again for the cut,” I told Amber. “And dinner.”

“Oh, shush. Thanks for giving up your day off for me.”

“It was fun. Really.”

“I hope it’s not my fault there’s some sad man out there someplace, all alone when—”

“God, stop it. I’m not seeing anybody.”

“Yuh-huh.”

I backed my way out the door, eager to escape her interrogation. “I’ll see you both soon, I’m sure.”

Dropping into the driver’s seat, I felt unexpectedly energized. Maybe I’d grab groceries now, instead of the next morning. I liked being in the grocery store at night. That was when my mom had done her shopping, after dinner, and when I was little it had made me feel special, riding in the cart with us face-to-face—well, face to bosom, anyhow—and getting her all to myself for a rare half hour.

I stuck the key in the ignition and turned.

A-rr-rr-rr-rr-rrr.

“Oh come on.”

A-rr-rr-rr. Thump thump.

“No, no no no.” I stroked the wheel beseechingly, but the Tempo wasn’t soothed. The fifth time I tried to turn the engine over, something made a scary grinding noise and I yanked the key out. “Motherf*ck.” I rested my head on the wheel, took a deep breath, and calmed down.

For the first time in my life, I could afford whatever repairs were needed. And I wasn’t due anyplace for thirty-six hours. If this had to happen, now was the best possible time.

Still, I didn’t have AAA and I doubted a garage would be able to have me running again tonight, not by the time I managed to get to one. Plus a tow would cost me a chunk, and maybe the thing only needed something cheap. A jump, or a spark plug—I was thoroughly clueless about cars. There was an obvious answer to the problem. A big, muscly answer, about six feet and four inches’ worth of obvious.

I sighed. At least we had the same schedule. Unless he was out wooing some other woman, Kelly would probably be perfectly happy to come rescue me. After all, it was number one on his tablet of man-commandments, those things guys were supposed to be able to do for their women. He’d already grilled me a steak. He’d f*cked me half-crippled. Check the car thing off the list and I was in serious danger of fulfilling his macho prophecy.