Hard to Break

  My ears are ringing so loudly I can’t hear who it is that’s calling my name. I can only feel arms tight around my waist. Then I’m moving quickly, being shoved through the crowd until I’m set down at a quiet table outside a restaurant. There are hands in mine, someone is kneeling in front of me, talking to me but I can’t hear what they’re saying.

  I just want it all to go away.

  I close my eyes, panting, gasping for air and trying to bring my bound hands to my chest, which is so tight it feels like I’m having heart failure. Someone starts rubbing my back furiously and that feels … nice. The pressure eases my breathing and slowly, as reality comes back, I hear the voice talking to me.

  “You’re all right, just keep breathing.”

  I drop my hands to my sides and my eyes flutter open as my breathing goes from a deep pant to short but fairly deep breaths. My eyes focus on the man kneeling in front of me and I gasp, skittering backwards in my chair.

  Tazen Watts is in front of me, crouching down, one hand wrapped around my body, rubbing my back. His eyes are concerned. He’s got an alarmed look on his face. His lips are gently parted and his eyes are narrowed, making a little crinkle form on his forehead.

  I don’t want his concern.

  “Hey, you doing okay there, angel?”

  “I’m,” I gasp, “fine.”

  I try to stand but my knees wobble and I go crashing back down.

  “Whoa there. You need to sit.”

  He turns and flicks his fingers, and a moment later a waiter comes over with a glass of water. Tazen takes it, nods and turns back to me, placing it in my hands. He curls his fingers around mine and for a moment, my breathing becomes shallow. But it’s because of the feeling of his hands on mine, and not from my panic attack.

  “Drink it. It’ll help. Trust me.”

  Trust him? He wants to take something from me that I’m not ready to give up—I understand his need to buy my garage, but I want him to understand how important it is to me. He doesn’t see that. I jerk my hand and the glass, and water sloshes over the side and lands on my lap. His eyes hold mine as I bring it to my lips and sip it.

  “You have panic attacks often?”

  I lean in close, having gotten myself together enough to leave. I stare at his lips and his eyes shoot to mine, a strange attraction sparking between us. I ignore it and lean closer, then I tilt the glass forward and all the water in it spills out and lands all over him. He leaps backwards and I stand, staring down at him with cold eyes. “I have them when assholes come into my life and try to take everything I love away.”

  Then I step past him and rush off down the sidewalk.

  Tazen Watts will get nothing from me.

  Nothing.

  CHAPTER THREE

  By the time I get home that night, I’m emotionally exhausted. My eyes are heavy and burning. My chest feels like there’s a two hundred pound weight lying on top of it. My legs ache with every step I take towards my front door. I am dreading going in there, but not because I’m afraid of how my dad will react. It’s because I’m ashamed over how I reacted.

  He might deserve a lot of things, but he didn’t deserve my verbal or physical assault. I shouldn’t have behaved the way I did and because of that, I am swimming in guilt. It’s like beating up a wounded puppy. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. My attacking him only makes me the bad guy. I should have held it together, kept myself calm. My actions did nothing to change the situation; in fact, they did nothing to him except confuse him more.

  I reach out with a shaky hand when I stop at the old, rickety front door. I take a deep breath and curl my fingers around the handle, turning it and pushing it open. I step through the front door and inhale deeply. Something smells … nice.

  Curious, I walk towards the kitchen. I immediately see my dad standing at the microwave, pulling out a dish. He turns and notices me, and quickly places the dish down. He doesn’t look drunk, but his eyes are bloodshot red. He does, however, look defeated. His shoulders are slumped and he looks exhausted. “Quinnie, honey,” he says, his voice full of shame. “I’m sorry.”

  My heart breaks.

  I rush over and throw myself into his arms. “It’s okay, Dad. I’m sorry I did that.”

  I can smell alcohol on him, but I didn’t expect not to. He can’t just stop drinking. If it were that easy he would have already done it. I have tried to get him help before, but you can’t force someone to do something unless they’re ready, and I don’t have the money to send him to a rehabilitation center.

  “I made dinner,” he says, giving me a wonky smile.

  I look down at the dish. It’s a mix of pasta that seems clumped together with a cheesy sauce.

  “Oh,” I say, staring at the mess. “It looks, ah, great.”

  “Mac and cheese,” he mumbles, leaning down to pull out two bowls. “Nothing special.”

  He serves me a bowl of food and we sit down at the table. I take a mouthful and struggle to swallow it down. I keep going because he’s trying and it isn’t right of me to turn my nose up when he’s actually making an effort. Dad, on the other hand, scarfs his down as if it’s the best food he’s ever tasted. That makes me sad.

  “Listen,” he says after swallowing his final bite. “I’m going to fix this for us.”

  My chest tightens, because there’s no possible way he can pull himself together to help me. I know he’ll try, but he’s too far gone to dedicate himself to this for long. I know that better than anyone.

  “Dad,” I begin, but he waves a hand, cutting me off.

  “No. It isn’t fair that I’m leaving all this on you, Quinnie. You should be enjoying life, making friends…” His eyes scan the small, crappy house. “Moving out.”

  I close my eyes.

  He reaches over, his warm hand capturing mine. I flick my eyes open and glance at him. “Dad, you owe twenty-two thousand dollars in thirty days. How do you suppose you will fix that?”

  “I’ll find a way, but I promise you, Quinnie, that I will figure it out. I won’t leave you without a home.”

  It’s not the home I care about. If only he understood that. It’s the garage, because that’s not just the place I work, it’s the only home I’ve ever known.

  “Listen, let’s talk about this tomorrow. Right now, I’m exhausted. Thank you for dinner, Dad.”

  I stand and take my bowl into the kitchen. I rinse it out and then kiss Dad on the head before heading towards my room.

  “I’ll fix it, Quinnie,” he calls after me.

  I don’t answer him. There’s nothing he can do to fix this.

  I’m the last hope this garage has.

  * * *

  “Come with me, Quinn girl.” Jace grins, flashing the killer of all killer smiles.

  I’m walking down the sidewalk, nearly at the garage the next morning. Jace caught up to me two blocks ago, after coming to my house to get me but finding I had only just left. He’s been following me, trying to convince me to go to the races on the weekend, where Tazen is unveiling his newest race car. Tazen gave him free tickets and two nights’ accommodation. Talk about trying to bribe him. The dick. I’d rather stab myself in the eye with a blunt instrument than go to anything that jerk is at.

  “Why are you awake so early?” I ask, trying to change the subject. “Was your girl for the night unsatisfied?”

  He snorts. “No lady leaves my bed unsatisfied.”

  I roll my eyes. “Sure, Fabio.”

  He nudges me with his shoulder, getting back to the subject I’ve been trying to avoid. “Come with me, Quinn! It’s two days.”

  “I don’t have two days,” I point out.

  I really don’t have two days. I have so much to do and I honestly don’t know how the hell I’m going to find the time to pull it all off in a month.

  “You have two days,” he protests. “The garage is closed on the weekends.”

  “Yeah, it is,” I mutter. “And I’m trying to save it so I’ll be spending my weekend c
oming up with ways to do that.”

  “We’ll talk while we’re drinking cocktails by the pool and watching famous car racers fly around the track.”

  I turn and stare at him, lifting my shades. “Cocktails? You just ruined your reputation for me.”

  He laughs loudly, wrapping an arm around me. “Don’t be such a fun spoiler. Come with me.”

  I groan. “Isn’t there another poor girl you can torture?”

  “None as pretty as you.”

  I snort laugh and roll my eyes, pulling my shades back down and walking towards the garage again. “Now you’re using flattery, and while I’m sure it works every other time, this girl isn’t interested. I hate Tazen and I have absolutely no reason to go.”

  “He is unveiling Chief, Quinn.”

  My eyes widen. I’ve been watching the show, and watching Tazen and his crew building Chief. It’s an amazing, sleek, lime green race car that is seriously panty-melting good.

  “No,” I breathe.

  “Yes, and you could be there to see it.”

  I swallow back the anticipation, because now I really want to go.

  “He only gave you those tickets to try and sway me to sell.”

  Jace shrugs. “And? Are they going to make you sell?”

  I snort.

  “Exactly. So really, I got free tickets and if that dude is giving away shit, I’m taking it. Come on, it’ll be epic! Jimmy Fordola is racing Chief for the first time!”

  Jimmy Fordola is a NASCAR champion, and it would be amazing to see him racing one of Tazen’s cars.

  Still, I really shouldn’t be taking time off.

  “Can’t you find another girl to go? I’m sure there are plenty.”

  “There are, but you’re the best because I don’t want to fuck you and therefore I can just chill and have fun.”

  I put a hand over my chest. “I’m wounded.”

  “Not that you’re not beautiful, ’coz you are. You just aren’t my type.”

  I scrunch up my nose. “Is it my uneven breasts, because that’s a very real, very common problem!”

  He bursts out laughing. “Dude, you have uneven breasts?”

  I smirk at him. “Maybe, is that going to be a problem when we’re on our little two-day lovefest?”

  His smile gets bigger. “I told you, you’re not my type. A lovefest between us could be…”

  “Disastrous? Pitiful? Epically disappointing?”

  “Hey,” he says. “Now I’m wounded.”

  I shake my head. “Seriously, Jace, I’d love to go with you but I can’t.”

  “You can.”

  “No.”

  He takes hold of me and spins me around so I’m facing him. “Quinn, honey, you can.”

  I search his face and I know how much he wants me to go. I’d love to, on any other occasion, but I can’t right now. I have a garage to save. Two days is two days that could take away essential planning time.

  “I can’t lose two days, Jace.”

  “You can, because today we’re going to come up with a solid plan to save the garage. We’re going to do that, and then you’re going to lock those doors on Friday and come on a weekend adventure with me.”

  “Why do you want me to come? Truly?”

  He leans down so our foreheads are touching. “Because you’re my best friend and I want to see you smile.”

  Damn, it’s no wonder he gets laid so much. The guy has charm.

  “Fine,” I sigh. “If we get a solid plan in place, I’ll consider coming.”

  He pulls back and fist pumps the air. “Yes!”

  “But if I see Tazen, I can’t be held responsible for how I’ll react.”

  “I promise to hold you back if you try and de-nut him.”

  I laugh. “I knew you were an amazing friend.”

  He chuckles.

  “Now that that’s out of the way, let’s get to it. We have a lot to do.”

  He hooks an arm through mine. “Yes, we do. Including picking a smokin’ hot bikini for you.”

  I roll my eyes. Men. We are going to a car race and all he can think about is a smokin’ hot bikini for the few hours we might get to spend by the pool at the hotel.

  “I thought you didn’t want to see my uneven breasts?”

  “Hey,” he says casually. “Breasts are breasts.”

  “You’re sad.”

  He snorts. “Never denied it.”

  “So tell me what poor girl is in your sights right now?” I ask as we walk.

  “No one special.”

  I nudge him with my shoulder. “Is there ever going to be anyone special?”

  He huffs. “Doubt it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because relationships are too hard, I’d much rather just get laid.”

  “Well, at least you’re honest.”

  I smile. What would I do without Jace?

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The sound of someone banging on my office door causes my head to jerk up. I’m neck deep in paperwork and trying to cut costs anywhere I can until we’re back on our feet. I look up to see Matty leaning against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest. He gives me a warm smile, and I return it, though mine is probably flustered.

  “Hey, Matty, what’s up?”

  “Just letting you know the car wash is ready to go for Thursday.”

  I give him the warmest smile I can muster up. I do this because I don’t want him to see just how scared I am. The car wash might make us a couple thousand dollars, which is super helpful, but it isn’t enough to even get us close to getting the big money by the time the end of the month rolls around. Right now, my prayers are going towards a business donating to help us out.

  “That’s awesome, thank you,” I finally say.

  He studies me. “Jace says you’re going away with him this weekend.”

  I purse my lips. “Yes, that should be interesting.”

  “It’ll be good, I think you’ll have a blast. I don’t even want to know how he managed to get those tickets out of Tazen, though.”

  “That man has a special kind of charm.”

  “He really should look at a profession as a gigolo.”

  He bursts out laughing and I can’t help but join in. When we both stop, his face is warm. “Good to hear you laugh, Quinn.”

  I swallow the lump that forms in my throat. “Well, let’s just hope things get better and we get a whole new world of chances for laughing.”

  His eyes grow warm. “I hope so, for all of our sakes.”

  “Me too, Matty,” I sigh. “Me too.”

  * * *

  “Cars?” I ask.

  “Check!” Lenny calls out.

  “Wash buckets?”

  “Check.”

  I run my finger down the paper. “Soap and washers?”

  “Check.”

  “Men in sexy bikinis?”

  All of them frown and I burst out laughing. “I guess that’s a check.”

  I came up with the idea to make the car wash a little more entertaining by having the guys dress in bikinis. They aren’t too thrilled about it, but it’s funny and it will bring in the girls. We’re doing it on the main drag, and any normal car wash won’t catch people’s attention. This one will. So, I went out and brought some cheap bikinis, including one for myself, and broke it to the guys.

  The only one who seemed on board with it was Jace. That didn’t surprise me. Even in a bikini that man could get lucky.

  “I’m too old for this shit,” Oscar mumbles.

  “Aw, come on now,” I croon. “You’ll look stunning in your bikini.”

  “I love you, Quinnie, but right now I’m tempted to give you a good spanking.”

  I giggle softly. “But it’s because you love me that you’ll do this.”

  I glance down at my watch. “One hour to go, guys, let’s get everything ready. Are all the signs set up out front?”

  “All done,” Matty says.

  “Then go and get your sexy on,” I s
ay, biting my lip to stop myself laughing.

  “You’ll suffer for this, young lady,” Lenny scoffs.

  “Yeah yeah,” I say, waving my hand and walking back into the garage to gather the last of the supplies we will need for the car wash.

  Half an hour later, I’m wearing a bikini that’s light blue and complements my skin tone. I feel self-conscious. It’s been a long time since I’ve worn so … little. With warm cheeks, I head out and my nerves instantly disappear when I see the line of men, all wearing bikini tops and shorts. I laugh so loud I have to double over and wrap my hands around my stomach.

  “Oh,” I gasp. “My god!”

  I stand back up and look at them all. Not one of them looks impressed, even Jace. They are all scowling at me, with their arms crossed. I choke down my laughter and say, “Aw, come on, guys. This is for our garage and most of all,” my voice grows serious, “it’s for me.”

  At my words they lose their scowls. “Fine,” Oscar scoffs. “But this never happens again.”

  “Understood.” I smile, still trying to fight down a laugh that’s threatening to bubble up again.

  “Let’s do this!” Jace says.

  We quickly make our way to the large parking lot we secured for the car wash to happen. We have our production line, with each of the guys doing a different job. It’s twenty dollars for a full wash and shine, as well as one hell of a show. I’m at the end of the line to offer a sheet that has information on how to make a donation to the garage, as well as offering free coffee and tea.

  Cars line up within a mere hour, and soon we’re full. Matty gets the music going and the men quickly get into the swing of things when they realize my idea was genius and people are coming in left, right and center for their chance to see these guys washing cars in bikinis. Locals, who are frequent customers of ours, stand around, helping for free and making everyone smile.

  “Quinn, love, this is wonderful.”

  I turn from organizing the money tin to see a regular customer of ours, Joanne White, smiling at me. I return her smile in full force. “Thank you, the guys have really pulled it off.”