The Hookup (Moonlight and Motor Oil #1)(44)

Not surprised Margot drives like an Indy car driver, I’d shared.

He’s being nice. It’s more like demolition derby. Her car is in my shop more than any in three counties and not because she’s big on keeping her oil clean.

That made me laugh again.

Right, you got work tomorrow so I’ll let you go. Dogs in? He’d asked.

That made my belly flip-flop and I answered, Getting them now.

Lock up tight after you. Windows too, baby.

Baby.

I’d missed that.

Two breakfasts, two dinners (now three) and the little there was of the rest and I’d missed him.

A lot.

Now I was getting more of him.

A lot more.

And liking it.

Too much.

I will, Johnny, I’d replied. Sleep well.

And he’d ended it the way it had ended before.

But this time it didn’t seem an end at all.

You too.

I stared at the screen of my phone, scrolling up and down idly with my finger, reading and rereading, so lost in it, I let a small smile spread on my face and I nearly jumped out of my chair when the phone I was staring at rang.

The screen changed from the text string with Johnny to announce Johnny was calling.

Oh God, what did I do?

My mind didn’t know.

But before it rang twice, my hand decided it did and it snatched up the phone, took the call and put it to my ear.

“Hey,” I greeted.

“Hey, got a sec?” he asked.

I didn’t. I’d barely gotten any work done that day.

“Sure,” I answered.

“Got a friend who has a horse. He and his family are going on vacation and the person who used to look after him has left town. He’s way out there, about a forty-minute drive away or I’d look after him. I noticed you got a couple of open stables. Wondered if you’d be cool stabling his horse. Not more work for you, Iz. I’ll come and deal with him.”

I sat staring at all the work on my desk I should be doing but wasn’t since I was talking to Johnny, and I did this thinking of Johnny coming out to my house every day to take care of a horse.

This was a good thought.

“So?” he prompted when I said nothing. “Will Serengeti be able to handle company?”

“I . . . well, I’ve got to take care of Serengeti and Amaretto anyway so you don’t have to—”

“While Mist is there, I’ll deal with Serengeti and Amaretto too.”

He’d take care of my horses too.

“Johnny—”

“You’d help him out. He’s in a bind. Everyone he can find is charging a shit ton. He’d pay you, bring his own feed, make sure you’re covered for hay and time. But I’d deal with the rest.”

My mouth made up my mind for me. “I don’t think that would be a problem.”

“Fantastic, sp?tzchen, I’ll tell him.”

“Sp?tzchen?”

“What?”

“You called me sp?tzchen.”

Johnny made no reply.

My heart convulsed.

Whatever that meant, he’d called her that too.

“Okay, whatever. Just let me know when—” I began.

“My granddad called my grandmother that. She was German. He met her over there when he was in the service. Married her there.”

“That’s sweet,” I forced out.

“She used endearments too. She called me h?schen,” he went on with sharing.

“That’s . . . sweet?” It was a question this time because I didn’t know what that word meant.

He chuckled. “It means little hare. She called my brother m?uschen. That means little mouse.”

“Yes, sweet,” I murmured.

“Sp?tzchen means little sparrow and no, she never got that,” he stated bluntly, reading my thoughts, and my breath arrested. “Iz?” he called when I concentrated on forcing myself to breathe.

“I’m here.”

“I wouldn’t do that to her,” he said.

Of course he wouldn’t.

“Right,” I whispered.

“More importantly, I wouldn’t do that to you.”

My breath arrested again.

More importantly?

“We clear on that?” he demanded to know, sounding like he was ticked.

“Are you angry?” I asked.

“I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Okay,” I said softly, realizing he really just wouldn’t.

“I didn’t call her anything I got from Grams.”

“Okay, Johnny.”

“We clear on that?” he repeated, definitely wanting to make sure we were.

“We’re clear on that,” I told him.

“So that doesn’t happen again,” he declared.

“Sorry?”

“That kind of shit, it doesn’t enter your head.”

“Johnny, I don’t think this is—”

“Say it, baby. Let that shit go,” he coaxed gently, definitely wanting me to do that too.

“It doesn’t enter my head,” I whispered.

“Good,” he stated. “I’ll talk to my bud, call you about Mist.”