Braving The Heat. Regan Black

on Kenzie, he thought, so mobile and expressive. Her lips were quick with a smile and he couldn’t keep the images out of his head. Her laughter astounded him, the merry sound full and loud and rich, as if she didn’t care who heard her. He envied that wide-open spirit, even when it grated against the solitude he’d carefully built here.

      How could Kenzie laugh at anything with a civil suit that threatened her career hanging over her head? He shot a glance back at the garage, fighting off the urge to get in there and just do the work for her.

      She claimed she could handle it, and it wasn’t a complex task to flush a little sugar out of a fuel system. If only that was all that junker needed. He was almost embarrassed to have such a sorry-looking car in the shop.

       Not sorry to have Kenzie around.

      The errant thought startled him and he shoved it away. He didn’t like extra people milling about in his space, but having her answering calls had been a big help. Mitch was about the only other person he could work with. Even his dad got under his skin after a few hours.

      At least she wasn’t here tempting him into conversation just so he could hear her voice. The last time a woman intrigued him like this, he’d been engaged to her. Stephen fought back the unwelcome spark of interest. Kenzie was a temporary anomaly in his self-contained life. She needed a break and he could tolerate having her around for a few days as long as she didn’t start in on him with questions about the business or why he was a loner.

      Finished detailing his sister’s minivan, he parked it next to the cars he was ready to sell. While he’d been out with the tow truck, Mitch had called, claiming to have a buyer lined up for the Mustang. Stephen hoped his brother closed the deal on that one soon. The upholstery and paint alone had cost them a small fortune.

      He tried to work up irritation over having it sit here and failed. The car looked amazing and they’d get their asking price eventually. The swell of pride in the work drained enough of the persistent tension out of his neck and shoulders that when his mom’s sassy red sedan pulled through the open gate, he managed a rare smile.

      “Happy Saturday, sweetheart,” she said, drawing him into a hug. “You look good.”

      Her hugs never changed, no matter what was happening in his life. She must have just come from the salon, he realized, as a wave of feminine scents swept over him. Her hair was sleek and smooth and the gray effectively hidden by a perfect application of ash-blond color. “You look great, Mom.”

      “Nice of you to notice.” A little pink warmed her cheeks as she beamed at him. “Hopefully, your father can be persuaded to take me out tonight.”

      Stephen didn’t think it would be much of an effort. His parents were still in love after all this time and the challenges life tossed at them. While he knew that wasn’t in his future, he valued the rare treasure of their relationship. “Car trouble?”

      “Not a bit.”

      Her gaze slid past him toward the office and he realized his sister had tipped her off that a woman had been here. Answering phones and relaying messages. Stephen managed not to roll his eyes at his mother’s obvious agenda. “If you’re looking for someone in particular, she isn’t here.”

      His mom’s expression fell so fast he felt terrible for busting the bubble of hope wreathing her face. “What do you mean?”

      “Please.” He walked toward the office, urging her to come out of the heavy, late afternoon heat. “Megan called you, right?”

      Myra nodded.

      “There’s nothing to it, Mom. I’m just helping out one of Mitch’s friends. She had car trouble.”

      “You’re helping Kenzie Hughes,” she stated.

      “Nothing gets by you,” he said. It had been that way all his life. Myra Galway had a mysterious, maternal inside track on information involving her children. Wishing he had a better explanation for the stack of boxes near the wall and the folded linens at the end of the couch, he offered her something to drink.

      “Water, please.”

      He handed her a bottle of water from the fridge and waited for her to explain her visit. It didn’t take long.

      “Kenzie was Mitch’s classmate all through school,” Myra told him. “You probably don’t remember her at all.”

      “No.” He was tempted to ask what his mom might know about Kenzie’s dad, but that would only stoke her persistent hope that he would eventually open his heart to a relationship again. Not a chance. He couldn’t handle that kind of vulnerability again.

      “Well, the poor girl’s name has been splashed all over the news lately.”

      Stephen was very selective about when he turned on the news. Sometimes knowledge wasn’t power, only more pain. “Mitch told me some of it.”

      “Your brother says she’s one of the best firefighters around. He’s convinced the suit will fall apart.” His mother’s gaze took in all the things that were out of place in his office. “You let her sleep here?”

      He chose not to explain the precise definition of “here.” “Her landlord is fumigating or something. Her stuff was in her car.” He gestured toward the boxes. “Her car was here. It was late...” He pushed his hand through his hair. “Made sense to me at the time.”

      Her smile, a mix of maternal delight and concerned tenderness, put him on edge. “You turned out all right,” she said, clearly satisfied with her parenting skills. “Here’s another bit of sense for you. Bring her to Sunday dinner tomorrow.”

      No. “Mom.” He set his jaw against the persistent lance of pain searching for his heart. “She probably has plans,” he added. Kenzie at Sunday dinner was a terrible idea.

      “You’ll ask and find out,” she said breezily. “There’s always room for one more at the table.”

      Did she practice these careless phrases that eviscerated him? By now he and Annabeth should have been working on their first baby and joining his married siblings in testing their mother’s theory about room at the table. A lousy drug dealer had decided Annabeth had done enough good in this life, and snuffed her out with a cowardly ambush at the community center.

      Three years after her death there were still nights when Stephen was convinced he’d heard those gunshots. The community center was too far from the garage for that to be possible, but the sounds haunted him anyway. I should have done more for her, he thought, though there had been nothing within his power to do. Logic seemed to have no effect on overwhelming grief.

      Stephen turned away, wishing the water in his hand was a beer or a whiskey. Conversations like this one were better with a whiskey close by. Distracted by those dark memories, he flinched when Myra touched her hand to his shoulder.

      “I consider Kenzie a friend of the family,” she said gently.

      “Then you should be the one to extend the invitation.” Though the churlish tone shamed him, he wouldn’t take it back. She had to know she was asking too much of him.

      “That is actually why I came by,” she pointed out. “Since I missed her, I trust you’ll handle it on my behalf. Politely and graciously as I would.”

      “Mom.” He gazed down at her, wondering why thirty-two years hadn’t been enough time for him to build up immunity to the mom voice. She wouldn’t drop it until he agreed. “I’ll text you if she can’t make it.”

      His mother’s eyebrows lifted and she tried and failed to suppress an amused smile. “Thank you.” She rocked back on her heels. “Do you have time to show me the progress on the Camaro out there?”

      He knew she was trying to put him back on his feet after dealing a blow, and he let her. “The engine is in and the transmission came together,” he said, as he walked with her around the car. “It needs a test drive and I’m waiting on