Rock Chick Rescue (Rock Chick #2)(17)

Seeing my Dad like that. Whatever, I let him have it.

“That was family business!” I snapped.

Eddie stared down at me.

“Your family?”

“Mine.”

“Since you’re my business, then that’s my business.” I gaped at him, mouth open and everything.

I shook myself out of my pissed off stupor and yel ed,

“Stay out of it!”

“I gave you fair warning, Jet. I’m already in it,” he replied, cool as can be.

I narrowed my eyes and planted my hands on my hips.

“Not anymore. Your role in this scenario has been played.”

He rocked back on his heels and smiled, dimple and al .

“Never seen you angry.”

“This isn’t angry. You haven’t seen angry yet.” That was a lie. I tended to be a pretty mel ow person, al in al . I didn’t get angry often and that was about as angry as I’d ever been.

“Then, considering you’re sexy as hel right now, I’m lookin’ forward to angry.”

His words threw me and it was a miracle I didn’t stagger backward.

Then panic coursed through me and I started to stomp toward the bookshelves when Eddie said to my back, “This is familiar, guess it’s time to hide.”

It was likely a mixture of humiliation and heretofore unknown temper that made me swing around and stomp right back to him. That, and the fact I was seeing red. I guess he real y hadn’t “seen angry yet” but then again, neither had I.

I got toe-to-toe with him and yel ed in his face, “Leave me and my Dad alone, Eddie Chavez!”

Eddie leaned into me, so close, he was al I could see.

Quietly, he asked, “Is it wrong that I want to kiss you right now?”

I kinda growled, low in my throat, too angry to be freaked out by what he said.

“Dios mio, Cariña, you’re adorable.”

“I’m no longer speaking to you,” I told him.

“Yes you are, three o’clock, then it’s you, me and a pitcher of margaritas,” he responded.

I walked away (wel maybe more like flounced), behind the espresso counter and started banging around, completely ignoring him and everyone.

A couple of minutes later, Tex said, surprisingly quiet,

“It’s okay, darlin’, he’s gone.”

I looked to Tex and Indy as she came behind the counter.

“What am I gonna do?” I asked.

“What am I gonna do?” I asked.

“Go with it?” Tex suggested.

“Do you want to talk?” Indy asked.

I shook my head.

“Thanks. I need to get my head together. Maybe later,” I told her.

“Anytime Jet, do you know that?” Indy asked.

“Know what?”

“That anytime you need to talk, or need anything, you can cal me. Do you know that?”

I felt tears sting my eyes. I nodded and turned away, got back to work and missed the look Indy and Tex exchanged.

I wasn’t going to have a nervous breakdown, not now.

And if I gave in to everything I was feeling, my system would probably shut down for a month.

I needed to concentrate, prioritise.

Stay awake was first. Find out what was wrong with my car was second. Find out if Dad was okay was third. Find a way to make up the money I gave Dad was last, or maybe first.

Or maybe the problem was, it was al first.

Chapter Four

Out of the Frying Pan and Into Eddie’s Bed My luck changed when Smithie cal ed me and told me a

“friend” was going to be in the parking lot of my apartment building at two o’clock to look at my car.

This meant I had a genuine reason for leaving early, thus avoiding Eddie.

I left Fortnum’s at 1:30 pm because I had to take the bus and I met Smithie’s friend at my Honda. He tinkered around under the hood for a couple of seconds then straightened up and wiped his hands on his greasy, blue coveral s.

“Gonna hafta tow this in,” he told me.

Oh no.

“Is it bad?” I asked.

“Can’t tel . Need to get in there.”

Wonderful.

“I can’t tow it today, I’l have the wrecker here tomorrow some time.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

I cal ed JoJo to arrange a ride while I watched the mechanic drive away. Then, I dragged my behind up to the apartment, looking forward to sleeping for a ful three hours before having to go into Smithie’s.

When I opened the door to the apartment Mom shouted,

“Oh good! You’re early.”

I walked into the living room, Trixie was there and it looked like a Beauty Salon Bomb had exploded.

“Hooray! I’l have more time to work,” Trixie said.

I absolutely loved Trixie. She’d had dyed red hair for as long as I could remember. She wore it teased out big. It looked good on her. She was petite, had happy, brown eyes and the most beautiful hands I’d ever seen on anyone.

She had what I thought of as an artist’s hands.

“Trixie, what are you doing here?” I asked as I gave her a hug. Trixie usual y came to visit Mom on a Monday.

“Surprise! You’re getting a manicure, pedicure, facial and highlights.”