He took it all in stride, eating enough to please Mama, smiling and accepting their clucking and fussing easily. He even agreed to take Lola’s number, although I wasn’t sure he would ever call her. I knew he had been seeing a girl, but knowing his track record, that might have changed. I would have to check. I was certain I’d gotten away scot-free until Mama caught me alone in the kitchen, getting a drink.
“What’s up with you?” she asked, her accent thick. “You off today. Too quiet.”
“I’m fine,” I replied, kissing her cheek. “Thinking about work.”
“Ah!” She gestured with one hand, flipping it in the air. “You should be thinking about the future. A wife. Children.” She spoke faster, pointing at the driveway. “Not driving bike like young man and doing nothing. You waste time, Stefano. You need family of your own!”
She hated the motorcycle. She lectured all of us about driving one. She hated my car too, so no matter what I used to drive in to see her met with her displeasure.
“Babies, Stefano. You need to think of babies.”
“Mama,” I teased. “You want me going around just planting babies in women?” I grinned at the shocked look on her face. “I can if you insist, but that’s not what you taught me growing up.”
She slapped my arm. “Stop!”
I laughed and hugged her tight. “One day, Mama. Just not today.”
She huffed. “I hate you alone.”
Her words struck something inside me.
“I’m not alone. I have our family. And lots of friends.”
She shook her head, gazing up at me sadly. “No the same, Stefano. No the same. Find your own family. Your future.”
With a sigh, I kissed her again. “I’ll try, Mama. I promise.”
For some reason, the woman I’d kissed seemed to come to mind every time I thought about Mama’s words.
Why, I had no idea.
Tuesday morning, Maxx came to my area, a frown on his face. “We’re two men down and have a full docket. You have some free time to help cover?”
“Sure. I’m still waiting on some approvals, and I can push back a few things.”
“Great. Brett’s taking bay one. I’ll take bay two, and you can have three.”
“Like old times.”
“Yep.”
“Lou and Ward okay?”
He grimaced. “They were out last night with their bowling team. Apparently shared a bad platter of wings. The whole team is suffering.”
I tried not to laugh, but I had to. “Sounds shitty.”
Maxx chortled. “Don’t get Charly going. She’s having far too much fun with it already.”
I clapped him on the shoulder. “Of course she would. Let’s hit it.”
Once in the garage, I glanced at the board and whistled. It was full. I frowned, not seeing anything about a tire change, then shook my head. I needed to put it and her out of my mind. She was so stubborn, she was probably ignoring my advice and going to Mr. Lube—or even worse, driving on the donut. I didn’t know her, and she wasn’t my responsibility.
No matter how much I enjoyed kissing her.
The morning went quickly, music playing, customers coming and going. Charly was in her element, bossing everyone around, laughing, and running the office with her usual deftness. My next customer came in, and after talking to them, I sent them to the waiting room and began working on their car. I grabbed one of the creepers, sliding underneath, my tools ready as I started the required repair. As usual when working, I zoned out, my thoughts focused on the job at hand. I was so focused, in fact, that I didn’t notice I had company until it was too late.
“Whatcha doing?” a little voice spoke to my right.
Startled, I snapped up my head, and it glanced off the metal undercarriage of the car. I hit it so hard, I swore I saw stars.
“Shit,” I snarled, meeting the shocked gaze of a little kid as I rubbed the tender spot.
“That’s a bad word,” he whispered, cupping his mouth as if telling me a secret.
“Um, yeah, sorry. You startled me.”
“I wanted to see.”
“Who are you?”
“Theo.”
“Nice to meet you, Theo, but you shouldn’t be under the car, little man.”
“Why not?”
“It’s not safe.”
“You are.”
“I’m an adult.”
“I’m smaller. I fit better.”
The kid had a point—stubborn little bugger.
“You aren’t authorized.”
He frowned. “I’m only five.” He picked up a socket wrench. “I don’t know what that is. But I can help!”
He was pretty damn clever for a five-year-old. I rubbed my aching head. “You need a uniform to work here.”
He looked disappointed. “Can you get me one? My mommy says I’m a good helper.” He held up another tool. “This is a screwything!”
“A screwything?”
He nodded. “My mommy has some. She gets mad and swears when she can’t find one. I help her. I can help you.” He looked around. “Don’t tell her I said she swears. Mommy says that’s bad.”
“I won’t tell her.”