The Hookup (Moonlight and Motor Oil #1)(115)

“He’s gonna change his plea,” he told her.

Her shoulders sagged and he had a feeling they sagged not because she was now free, but because Stu would suffer less.

He got that. He loved Toby that much, if Toby had turned like Stu had done he’d feel the same way.

Those desperate hours not knowing where Brooks was, he also didn’t get it at all.

“I gotta go,” he told her.

She tensed and seemed to lean toward him.

“Johnny.”

“This gets sorted, Shandra, get outta town. Find your happy.”

She shook her head and said solemnly, “You have to know how sorry I am for everything. Really everything, Johnny.” Her face started to crumble but she was Shandra. She’d lived through a lot, too much. She didn’t crumble easy. So she sniffed through her nose, pulled it together, and whispered, “Everything.”

“I know that, Shandra,” he said quietly.

“I really did love you,” she told him.

“I know that too,” he replied.

“Not to . . . I mean, I know you’ve moved on, so not to make this anymore awkward than it already is, which seems impossible, but here it is. I always will. I’ll always love you, Johnny Gamble.”

He dipped his chin and whispered, “You get out from under all of this, start somewhere fresh, find your happy, you’ll find someone else to love.”

“Maybe.”

“Definitely. Just . . .” he drew in breath and put his face closer to her, “use what we had and do it better next time.”

She rubbed her lips together and nodded, and he remembered he used to think that was cute. If he had his shot, he would always kiss her after she was done doing that.

It was still cute.

And he hoped the guy that came next would think that too.

“Stay safe and be happy, sweetheart,” he murmured.

“You too, baby,” she murmured back.

He looked into beautiful eyes, what seemed a very long time ago he thought he’d be looking into until his dying day.

Then he smiled at her and walked away.



Twenty minutes later, he drove up Izzy’s lane to see her rocking in her wicker chair on her front porch with three dogs lazing around at her feet.

She had a chilled glass of something on the table next to her, her colored pencils out and a book on the knees she had lifted up with her heels in the seat.

He knew that book.

His Izzy was coloring.

That was Izzy. She didn’t rock away the time, anxious for his return, worried about him knowing what he had to do, waiting for him in quiet reflection, wasting time where she could be using it, even if she was using it to color in the lines.

She had to be doing something.

The dogs raced to him, Ranger in the lead, as he stopped his truck beside her dusty Murano.

He got out, handed out pets, and walked slowly to her with his eyes on her.

She didn’t move from her chair and she also didn’t move her gaze from him.

When he was standing on her porch two feet away, looking down at her, she asked, “How’d that go?”

“He’s changing his plea.”

She grinned up at him.

Now that . . .

That was kissably cute.

“Can you do anything, Johnny Gamble?” she asked.

He just shook his head and hitched his lips.

Her face got serious. “How’s Shandra?”

“If she’s smart, finally free.”

She nodded gravely.

Then her head tipped to the side. “We had rather a drama fifteen minutes ago when Brooks decided he would prefer Kelly’s fur yanked out of her furry kitty body and Kelly decided she liked her fur where it was, so she swatted at him and caught him with a claw. The scratch is about half an inch long so not bad but she drew blood. Brooks wasn’t a big fan. Addie bathed it and shared with him that some lessons need to be learned the hard way. I have a feeling Brooks can’t understand English, but he understood that. Kelly’s still miffed.”

“Addie’s right,” Johnny declared.

“Yes,” Izzy agreed.

“Iz?”

“Yes?”

“It gonna take until we’re eighty for you to get with the program?”

She looked confused for a second before she set her book aside, pushed out of her chair, moved her body into his and slid her arms around his neck.

“Sometimes you can kiss me when you get home, you know,” she whispered, eyes to his lips.

“You’re right,” he replied.

And then he did just that.



Izzy

“That is absolutely, one hundred percent not going to work,” I said decisively.

“Are you serious?” Johnny replied, not hiding he was getting angry.

I threw up both my hands. “Yes, I’m serious.” I leaned toward him where he was standing five feet away from me in front of his couch in his living room/bedroom/dining room/kitchen (part of the point!) and reminded him, “I have horses, Johnny.”

“That isn’t lost on me, Izzy,” he retorted.

“And I kinda like them,” I went on. “I also like having them outside my back door, not fifteen miles away.”

“Iz, you got three acres. I got twenty-seven.”