One of the Guys (2 page)

D
iego Molina frustrated her
.

Arms crossed over her chest, Ronnie tapped her foot, watching from the empty waiting room of the shop as he parked his flatbed truck across multiple spaces in the lot they shared, a gray Volkswagen Jetta sitting on top of it. For the hundred thousandth time she’d have to remind him not to park across the premium parking spaces reserved for the customers.

He came around from the driver’s side. She stopped tapping and just watched him.

Six feet tall and built like a powerhouse, Diego Molina was one of the finest men she’d ever seen, with a head full of luxurious black locks and sage-green eyes that stood out against the dusky complexion of his face. He moved with quiet confidence, the loose-fitting jeans unable to hide the powerful muscles of his thighs and a firm behind. His tan work shirt had to be a polyester blend, yet managed to mold to his broad chest like spandex. The short sleeves exposed tan arms, sprinkled with hair and muscular from the biceps down to the wrists.

Ronnie worked with men and hung out with them all the time. Lots of men. But something about him was more masculine than other men she interacted with.

He made her flesh prickle. Her heart race. And, though she didn’t want to admit it, even to herself, had twice or thrice invaded her subconscious through hot sex dreams that startled her awake, nipples aching, body throbbing.

Shaking off her musings, Ronnie stepped into the sun, but stopped in the middle of the lot when Diego opened the door of the passenger side of his truck. He placed a hand on the elbow of the woman in the seat and helped her to the ground.

“Thank you so much. You’ve been an absolute doll and such a gentleman,” she gushed. She tossed her blonde hair and batted her eyelashes at him.

“Just doing my job,” Diego said, his accented voice carrying a trace of his Cuban heritage.

“Well, I appreciate it.” The woman ran a hand over his bare arm, as if she couldn’t help herself.

Ronnie rolled her eyes. Perhaps she shouldn’t be too hard on the woman. Four-inch heels and a tight skirt could prove problematic when descending from a truck that high, but running a hand down his arm was clearly inappropriate.

Of course she’d seen this same scenario play out numerous times before, with only slight variances in the action.

Diego cast his lazy gaze on a woman. They swooned and gushed and giggled.

On occasion he’d turned the same smoldering gaze on Ronnie, but unlike Madame Touchy-Feely, she knew better than to fall prey to all that testosterone-oozing charm.

“Just the person I wanted to see,” Diego said, looking at Ronnie. His customer also cast a glance in her direction. He led the blonde over. “This is the owner of Taylor Automotive, and she can fix you right up.”

“Her?” she said, eyes widening.

“Hello.” Ronnie smiled, hoping her face wasn’t as tight as it felt. With less than ten percent of mechanics being women, she somewhat understood why people were surprised when they saw her, but the reaction grated more when it came from a woman.

Behind the customer, Diego did a poor job of hiding a smile behind his knuckles.

“What seems to be the problem?” Ronnie asked.

“Er, well…”

The woman glanced at Diego for approval. He nodded, silently prodding her to go into detail. Ronnie kept the smile on her face and waited. After years of working as an auto tech, she had mastered the art of keeping her cool with her customers. Men tested her, asking trick questions to trip her up, and women doubted her abilities. Sooner or later she won them over with her patience and knowledge.

“For the past…I don’t know…week or so, my car has been making a horrible squealing noise.”

“When you start it or when you accelerate?”

Using probing questions, Ronnie eased the information from the customer. By the end of the conversation, the blonde smiled, visibly relaxed, and confirmed trust shifted in Ronnie’s favor when she asked, “You think you can fix it?”

“We’ll do our best,” Ronnie said, though based on the answers, she assumed the problem was a routine but costly timing belt but needed to get under the hood to be sure. Pointing at the storefront, she said, “If you go inside, Alfred will get you entered into the system. He’s a certified master VW mechanic, so I’m confident we can figure out the problem.”

She placed a reassuring hand on the woman’s forearm and was rewarded with a smile of relief.

“Thank you!” Ms. Touchy-Feely shot another glance and smile at Diego, who stood silently by watching the exchange, before she hustled into the shop.

“Good job,” Diego said.

“I need to talk to you.”

He groaned and let his head fall back. “What do you want to complain about today, Veronica Pain-In-My-Ass Taylor?” He stuck a toothpick in his mouth and folded his arms over his chest.

She dragged her eyes from the way his muscles bulged into more prominence.

“Haha, very funny.” Pressing her hands onto her narrow hips, Ronnie glared at him. “Why do you always have to park your truck like that and take up the limited parking available for customers?”

“Is that what I did?” He scanned the almost empty parking lot they shared, chewing on the toothpick so it bobbed up and down between his full lips.

“You know good and well that’s what you did. I’ve told you plenty of times before. Since you bought this place, you’ve created a mess. You take up extra parking spaces, you block my garage bays—”

“Only when they’re empty,” he pointed out.

“You have no right to do that! Your guys leave trash in the back lot, and when are you going to move all those abandoned cars?”

At least ten cars sat in the fenced lot at the back of the buildings that hadn’t been picked up by their owners, and he appeared in no hurry to get rid of them.

“Let me handle my business, and you handle yours.”

“I try to handle mine, but as you can see”—she made a broad, sweeping gesture to showcase the lot—“someone doesn’t understand how to be a good neighbor.”

He tossed the toothpick to the ground and narrowed his eyes on her. “Are you the one leaving bad reviews for my business online?”

“Of course not!” The accusation stung. Not only was it unethical, her business and his were intertwined. She benefited if he did well.

Diego didn’t only bring her customers. He used Taylor Automotive to fix up cars he’d towed that were abandoned by their owners, and he in turn sold them for a profit. From what she could tell, that was a nice side business in addition to the towing company.

“I would be disappointed in you if you did.” Diego came closer and she held her breath. Dropping his voice, he said, “However, your whining and bitching is getting out of hand.”

“Under the circumstances, I’m very calm.”

“I’ve seen calm, and you’re not it. I’ve told you before I could fix you up and knock that bad attitude right out of you.”

“First of all, I don’t have a bad attitude.” Except with him. He provoked the worst in her. “Second of all, I thought I made myself clear that you’re not my type.”

“You’ve never tried my type.”

“How do you know what I’ve tried?” Ronnie asked, knowing she entered dangerous waters with the direction of the conversation, but unable to stop the slide into the unknown.

He sucked air between his teeth. “
Ay no
, you’ve never been with a Cuban man,
mami
. That much I know. It will change your whole life. You know what they say, once you go Cuban, you never go back.” He chuckled to himself, rubbing a hand over his shirt, and she couldn’t help but notice his massive hands and broad chest.

“That’s not the saying.”

“It is now.” His voice was low when he spoke next. “I keep telling you, a little horizontal salsa will do you some good.”

The air squeezed from her lungs and Ronnie’s chest tightened. She took quivering breath. “I promise you, that will never happen,” she said, in her coolest voice possible.

The lids of his eyes lowered over his pupils as he did a lazy scan of her body. The brazen inspection made her feel uncomfortable in her own skin. A sensation, light and airy like a shadow, crept over her, compelling the hairs on her neck to stand on end.

“Oh,
mami
, you don’t know what you’re missing.”

“Not even if pigs fly and hell freezes over.” Icicles dripped from her voice.

“So that’s a maybe?”

She laughed a little. If there was one thing she could say about Diego, he was consistent. For over a year she’d had to deal with his lascivious smile and cavalier attitude. No matter how many times she shot him down, he came right back with a new line.

“That’s a never.” She moved closer to him and stood on tiptoe to get in his face, their heads mere inches apart. She made her face into a mask of sweetness and lowered her voice to a seductive purr. “Stop parking your damn truck in the customer parking spaces or I’m calling the landlord.” She often threatened to sic the landlord on him but never actually had.

He moaned and shivered, like a man who’d experienced something so exquisite he could barely stand it. “Oh Veronica, I love it when you talk dirty to me.”

Diego dropped his eyes to her chest, but this time the brazen inspection didn’t only fill her with unease. Heat burned her cheeks, and her traitorous breasts tightened in excitement at the attention. Fortunately, he couldn’t see their reaction under the loose-fitting gray overalls.

Ronnie curled her fingers into fists. There was no getting through to him. “Ugh!”

She swung around and stormed away. Yanking open the door, she hurried inside her shop. The sound of his amused laughter only disappeared when the door finally closed behind her.

“
S
he looks
like she wants to kill you. Who was that?” The question came from Dave, the African-American driver Diego hired only days ago. He’d pulled up a few minutes before and walked toward Diego.

“Ronnie Taylor. She runs the mechanic shop,” Diego answered.

“She’s not a fan of yours,” his employee pointed out.

“Seems that way,” Diego muttered.

He couldn’t figure Ronnie out. He never suffered from a shortage of female company, and for years had been able to get just about any woman he wanted. That wasn’t arrogance. It was simply the truth.

As a teen, he dated a congressman’s daughter, much to the dismay of her parents. His last relationship was with a wealthy older woman thirteen years his senior who offered a car and apartment to continue the relationship. A month ago, a few well-placed words and the flash of a smile helped him avoid a speeding ticket, and he ended the night playing a sexy new version of cops and robbers with a particularly frisky female officer.

So why couldn’t he get through to Ronnie?

Her constant rebuffs only made him try harder because he couldn’t get her out of his head. Her full, lush lips were the kind of lips that were not only perfect for kissing, but perfect for other more wicked acts. She never wore jewelry and except for the occasional lip gloss, makeup never graced her dark, bistre-brown complexion. But by the silky-smooth appearance of her skin, she didn’t need it.

She had what some might consider a masculine haircut, her natural hair cut low on her head and only allowed to grow an inch or so before she cut it all off again, but the haircut brought attention to her eyes. They were gorgeous, large, luminous—earthy brown, like soil, and with a curtain of thick lashes.

The hideous gray of the mechanic’s overalls couldn’t detract from the brown of her skin, which was like a blank canvas, open to a palette colors. The loose-fitting jumpsuit hinted at her slender curves and made him more curious about what lay beneath. If he had his way, he’d know exactly what her naked body looked like and felt like a long time ago.

Diego’s phone rang and he fished it out of his pocket. He immediately recognized the number. Loisa Jimenez was someone whose call he always answered.

“Do me a favor.” He tossed Dave the keys to his truck. “Take down the VW, and move the truck to the back lot.”

“Sure thing.”

Heading toward the unremarkable tan building that housed his towing company, Diego answered the call. “¿
Oigo
?”

The female voice on the other end continued the conversation in Spanish. “Hi. Do you have a few minutes to talk?”

“I always have time for you. You know that.”

She laughed, the sound of her laughter still one of her best features. During the period they shared an apartment and planned a life together, her laughter and good humor had been an aspect he looked forward to on a daily basis, particularly during the darkest period of his life.

“You always say the sweetest things,” she said.

“I mean it.”

Ambling into the tiled waiting area, he nodded at Rosita behind the counter, who worked the day shift as a receptionist and dispatcher. The property was along a fairly busy road during the day, but at night traffic slowed to a trickle, so for second shift Diego preferred a male dispatcher who brought along his Rottweiler, Demon, to keep him company.

He closed the door to his office, a small square dominated by an old metal desk covered by a wooden top, inherited from the previous owner and filled with work orders, bills, and miscellaneous other documents that needed his review. He hated the paperwork but took pride in running his own company, a feat he’d never imagined accomplishing at the age of twenty-eight.

Fortunately, a little over a year ago and two years into his move to Atlanta, the previous owner of this establishment was in a financial bind and on the verge of bankruptcy when the opportunity presented itself for him to become a business owner. After negotiating owner financing and a small down payment, he took over the towing company and renamed it D&M Towing. He inherited six drivers and two dispatchers.

As luck would have it, being next door to the mechanic shop facilitated a worthwhile side business. Whenever he towed junk cars or owners abandoned their towed vehicles, he could apply for title and sell them to a scrap yard. He let Taylor Automotive fix the better ones, and he sold them for a tidy little profit.

He set his booted feet on the desk and crossed them at the ankles. “What’s going on with you?”

“Well, I need to ask you a big favor,” Loisa said slowly.

The hesitancy in her voice aroused his curiosity, but he wanted to assure her that whatever she needed she could have. “Anything,” he said.

“I was hoping you’d say that. Here’s the thing: I’m moving to Atlanta in the fall, and I was hoping I could stay at your place while I look around for an apartment.”

The request took him by surprise, and his relaxed body tensed.

She laughed softly. “Don’t worry, Diego, I’m not going to try to seduce you. Our relationship is over, and I accept my role in making that happen.”

He’d loved her desperately at one time, and they had planned to make a life together, but Loisa cheated on him. As far as he was concerned, he’d pushed her into the arms of another man, yet he couldn’t and didn’t look at her the same way after the affair. But they worked through it and became friends, linked by a past filled with equal parts joy and pain.

“I just need a place to stay while I’m in Atlanta looking around. My job is transferring me there, and it’ll be cheaper than staying in a hotel. I hope that’s okay with you.”

“I can’t believe you’re leaving Miami.”

She’d lived there all her life. Her family resided there. For her to move was not only shocking, it was a drastic change.

“A position opened up in Atlanta. I applied and got it. I have to wrap up here, but I want to get a head start on nailing down living arrangements. The company is paying for me to move, but not for me to come there and look around at my own leisure. Since you’re there…well, I figured I could take advantage and stay at your place for a few days while I look around.”

Loisa worked as an analyst for a financial services firm based in Florida, but with offices throughout the United States.

“That’s not a problem at all,” Diego said.

“I won’t be cramping your style, will I?”

“Now you’re fishing for information,” he said, his mouth quirking up in the corner.

“I
am
fishing a little bit,” she admitted. “But not for the reason you think. I don’t want to cause any problems.”

“You’re staying, what, a few days? It won’t be a problem. When are you thinking about coming?”

She gave him a date and Diego made a mental note.

“That works for me. I’ll make sure I’m available to take you around if you need me to.”

“Thank you. I knew I could count on you.”

She went quiet, and in the weighted silence he knew there was more she wanted to say.

“What are you doing for the Anniversary this year?” she asked in a soft, hesitant voice.

His abdomen tightened.

The Anniversary. A date that arrived every year and reminded him of the beginning of the most painful part of their relationship. The day their daughter passed away.

He swallowed the lump in his throat.

“Are you there?” Loisa asked quietly.

“I’m here,” he answered hoarsely.

“I didn’t mean to upset you. I—”

“You didn’t upset me.” He rubbed his fingers across his brow to alleviate the gentle throbbing that emerged. “I usually spend the Anniversary alone.” Except for last year, when he went to his cousin’s house in the country for a few days.

“Me, too.” She sighed. “She would be eight this year. Our baby would be eight.”

Pain and loss vibrated in her voice, and he wasn’t in the frame of mind to handle the riot of emotion talking about their daughter evoked.

He dropped his feet to the floor. “I should go. I’ll call you in a few weeks, or you call me and we’ll make definitive plans. I need to finish up some work.”

“Of course you do. I’m so sorry. I know that you’re busy. Have a good day, Diego. We’ll talk again in a few weeks.”

Diego hung up in a rush and dropped his phone to the desk. He rested his elbows on his knees and supported his head on his fists. Closing his eyes, he breathed slowly in and out, forcing calm into his spirit.

He’d prided himself on being the opposite of his own father, a monster who never offered love or affection. Only alcoholic rages that resulted in vitriolic rants and emotional and physical pain.

The image of his little girl came back to him. Matilda, with her honey-brown skin, closer to her mother’s complexion. She’d been the light of his life, and for three years he’d been lucky enough to call himself her father. Her protector. Her champion.

He’d been at work and, when he received the call, was certain they’d made a mistake. But there was no mistake. He and Loisa arrived at the hospital together, and his Matilda was gone. Loisa collapsed, and except for the streaks of tears that escaped his eyes, Diego went numb.

That numbness lasted for two years. He fell into an abyss, a dark place where no one could reach him.

He pulled out his wallet and stared at the picture of Matilda, three years old with her dark hair in pigtails and grinning at the camera. He smiled slightly and ran a calloused finger over the image of her sweet face.

When his baby girl died that day, she took a big chunk of his heart, his soul, and his sanity.

Moving to Atlanta had been good for him. His cousin Tomas lived here, and the city contained a thriving, close-knit Cuban community. But to this day he still felt an emptiness in his heart he was certain could never be filled again.