Maddox and I convince her to compromise by hiring one of her advanced students as an assistant, so she can delegate the more physical aspects of teaching and not push herself too hard. But her transition back to the studio gives me the opportunity to evaluate my own direction. It’s been a challenge settling into life as a single dad, but one I have zero regrets about.
Well, I might have one. Not a regret, exactly, but one loose end that I haven’t yet found the right moment to tie up.
With Mom back at work, I wind up spending more time at her studio with Zoe, helping both her and Maddox out with their respective businesses. Exercising my strategic mind to help the two of them is rewarding, but every time I’m in that old building, I wind up pacing around the big garage in back and letting my mind wander to what it could be.
My own dream remains at the back of my mind, but it slips into my daily thoughts more and more and I find myself scanning online classified ads, looking for old cars that could turn into potential projects.
I’m not at a stage where I could advertise my services yet. The car Rafael and I rebuilt isn’t due to arrive from Mexico City for another week after the party, and I need one or two more under my belt first. But I have money saved from the last three years being in the DEA’s pocket and spending very little, plus saving my earnings from being one of Zavala’s thugs. Before too long, I’ve managed to sketch out a business plan to show my brother.
Within a week, we have the garage set up with proper lifts and tools, and a wrecker arrives with the first project—a rusted-out ’65 Thunderbird. It’s a diamond in the rough, and my dick gets a little hard as we unload it into the bay and I start work almost instantly. Rafael’s Mustang is sitting pretty in another bay beside Maddox’s truck, giving me all the inspiration I need to make this new project shine.
For the next couple weeks, I’m practically living in domestic bliss, working in the garage all day with Zoe in a playpen in a safe corner. Sometimes she spends time with her grandma Marcella, or her aunt Celeste, but most days she’s with me. My daughter has no shortage of female role models, but Callie is the one who makes her face light up the most when she comes over, which doesn’t happen as often as I’d like. I want her every night, but her schedule doesn’t allow for it, so we take full advantage of the nights we do manage to spend together.
It’s been a month since Dad died and Mom came home from the hospital. Valentine’s Day, to be exact. It’s a Monday, which Callie has always said was a slow day at work for her, so I convinced her to take the afternoon off.
I’m working on a special project for Sam when she arrives at the garage still in scrubs, her entrance announced by Zoe’s excited squeals. My daughter clambers to her feet, rocking unsteadily before taking a few cautious steps to the edge of her playpen and grabbing hold of the cushioned rail. I stare, awestruck and unable to speak for a few seconds.
“Oh my god, is she walking?” Callie’s hand flies to her mouth and she rushes to Zoe, grinning like a fool while I wipe my hands on a grease-stained rag and join her. She only has eyes for Zoe, though. “Were you walking, Zo-Zo?”
“It’s a first for sure,” I say, stunned and smiling as Callie hoists Zoe in her arms and kisses the babbling little girl on the cheek. Then she graces me with a less chaste kiss and my body hums with pure joy of a different sort. My baby girl walked! The event very nearly overwhelms me but Callie’s warm embrace brings me back to earth.
“Happy Valentine’s Day,” she murmurs in a seductive voice when we part. I almost regret not agreeing to let Elena, Arturo’s housekeeper, take Zoe for the full day, but I’m glad I didn’t after witnessing such a milestone. She’ll be spending the night at the Flores estate with her uncle, but I wanted to have her with me and Callie for the first part of our afternoon plans.
“Same to you, wildcat,” I say and give her ass a gentle squeeze.
Her gaze shifts behind me to the Harley Davidson Sportster chassis that rests on a small lift. It can’t look like much at the moment, and her skeptical expression tells me she isn’t impressed.
“I thought you just did classic cars?” She takes a step past me and examines the naked frame with her head tilted.
“This is a side project. Sam’s trying to impress a girl, and he thought giving her a hog for her birthday was the best way to do it. When it’s done, it’ll look like this.”
I hold up the artist’s rendering Sam created of what he wants the bike to look like when it’s finished, complete with Toni Valentine’s organic vine-like logo on either side of the fuel tank.
Callie blinks and opens her mouth, a startled laugh escaping. Zoe coos and gurgles in response. “He’s giving that to a girl he likes? Does she even like motorcycles? Does she even like him? Wait a sec, it’s Toni, isn’t it? Never mind, I get it.”
I chuckle and nod. “Yep.” Sam’s adoration of his boss isn’t exactly a secret in our family. He’s been infatuated with Toni ever since he hit puberty, and his feelings haven’t diminished one bit after working for her for the past three years, first as an apprentice at her tattoo studio and now as an associate artist with his own cubicle and regular clients.
“Well, there is something to be said for grand gestures. I
