“Good morning, Mr. Cooper,” I replied as I took a step inside the tiny room he called his office. “I heard you both in here and wanted to bring you some coffee before I head to the booth and get started.” I walked toward his desk and handed over the chipped white mug that said COOPER’S COLLISION AND CUSTOMS that was more than likely about as old as I was.
Mr. Cooper smiled at me, but I could see the tension along his eyes. “You didn’t have to,” he said, like he had every morning we did this routine of me pretending to come in here to be nice, but all of us knowing that wasn’t exactly the truth. Maybe they didn’t know how much I eavesdropped when they spoke in normal voices, but we all knew there was no ignoring them when they raised their voices or yelled.
“It’s no problem,” I told him as his hands clasped the bottom of the mug and he took it from me. I eyed him and raised my eyebrows. “Nice haircut.”
“Thank you,” he replied, a wary expression dusting his cheeks as he kept on smiling.
I flashed him one back, except it wasn’t forced or strained at all before I turned with my other hand outstretched, holding the second mug of coffee—a vintage one that Lenny had given me that said Cats The Musical on the side—and faced the other man in the room. I didn’t let my expression change. I kept the big smile on my face. “I brought yours too, Rip,” I said, calmly holding the coffee cup out, my eyes gluing themselves to the hint of a tattoo on his throat that he always had mostly concealed by the high-necked gray layer he had on.
I hid my surprise that he was arguing with Mr. Cooper on a day he wore gray and let my smile grow even bigger instead, just to be a pest. Maybe Friday hadn’t exactly gone great, but from experience, he didn’t hold grudges for too long. Also, he wasn’t going to ask if I’d decided what favor I wanted because we weren’t alone. He’d find me later on and do it.
I watched as a hand that seemed to be twice the size of mine lifted from beside where it had been hanging loosely at his side. Then I watched as his fingers and the back of his hand—covered in a miniature grim reaper with a sickle and other random thick black lines and a letter that I was fairly certain was an M on the ring finger—took the cup from me. Then, and only then, did I let myself glance up and take in the face that I thought about way too much for my own good, even when he wasn’t being his nicest.
Because even if I only thought about him once a day, it was one time too many. I knew where we stood. I also had an internal radar for pointless things, and he was one of those.
I wasn’t in love or anything, but I liked a lot of things about him. What I honestly probably liked the most was that he didn’t take anyone’s BS, even if he did take that a little far sometimes. I admired Lucas Ripley. I admired a lot about him. Maybe he wasn’t the kindest or the sweetest man in the world, but he wasn’t mean or unnecessarily rude… the majority of the time. The other guys at the shop called him a hard-ass, but I thought he was a decent man.
I liked Rip the same way I liked Louis Vuitton purses that I realistically knew I would never own because there was always something else I had to spend money on. Just because they would never be mine didn’t mean I couldn’t appreciate them. So…
What I didn’t like was how grouchy he was with Mr. Cooper, but Mr. Cooper had told me three years ago, not to let it bother me after I had brought it up. I’ve known him forever, little moon. He’s a good kid beneath it all. Don’t think twice about it. I can take it.
“Thank you, Luna,” the huge man replied.
“You’re welcome,” I said, like I had every morning that we had the same exchange.
Because this was what we did every morning, even if he wasn’t fighting with Mr. Cooper when I showed up. I made coffee, prepared a cup how he preferred it—I’d learned how he liked it by watching him a couple of times when we were in the break room at the same time—and took it to whatever car he happened to be working on in the massive open floor space. I would set the mug on the nearest flat surface and say, “Good morning.” Then, depending on what color shirt he was wearing, he would tell me “thank you” either clearly or in a grumble. I would say, “You’re welcome.” He would ask me “Did you decide?” I would tell him I hadn’t, and also depending on his mood, I’d ask if he’d had a good night or a good weekend, or whatever. I would either get a one-word answer or two-word, if I was lucky, and that was that. That was it.
I pulled the handles of the bag off my wrist and opened it. “Happy birthday.” I pulled the metal pan with the plastic cover over it out and then held it in his direction, still smiling. “It’s chocolate with vanilla frosting,” I explained, still holding it out toward him.
Those blue-green eyes widened.
Then those eyes—those freaking eyes that were a shade of color that didn’t seem natural—flicked down toward the cake then back toward my face.
His eyes widened just a little more.
Then he did it.
For the first time in months, his mouth tipped up maybe a millimeter. At the most a millimeter. But it was a smile. A tiny smile that might have been interpreted a dozen other ways by people who hadn’t spent a whole lot of time looking at this man’s face… but I had, and I knew what it was. A little smile.
All because of a birthday cake.
Like a hopeless dummy, my heart thumped.
“No shit?” he asked, sounding like he hadn’t just been arguing two minutes ago. Like he was still surprised I had made it for him even though I had done the same last year. His mouth was still formed into that microscopic smile, and I could see his eyes stray to my earrings of the day. They were cupcakes. I’d put them on for his birthday.
So I nodded, still grinning. “I didn’t want to leave it in the fridge in case you didn’t want to share.”
That and he wouldn’t want anyone to make a big deal about his forty-first.
Those huge hands came up and took the container from me, moving it up and down like he was testing the weight. It was just a sheet cake in a normal pan with a lid on it. It wasn’t a big deal. The whole thing took maybe thirty minutes total to mix ingredients and then decorate. It was nothing. Really. I just remembered what it was like to want a birthday cake and not have anyone around to buy one or make one for me. The girls had been too young then.
“Thanks, Luna.”
I tried not to beam at him, but I was pretty sure I failed. “You’re welcome.” I wasn’t going to warn him it said Happy Birthday Boss-Man on the inside. Hopefully it would make him smile when he was alone in a dark room. “You don’t look a day over forty.”
He didn’t react to my joke. Those almost teal-colored eyes were still on the red lid when he basically muttered, “You coming to Mickey’s tonight?”
Mickey’s was the bar a few blocks down where everyone at the shop celebrated birthdays or just randomly met up for drinks sometimes after work. He had never made it a point before to spend time with any of us though. Not even on his last birthday or anyone else’s. So….
“Sure,” I told him, just barely holding on to my smile. I’d have to tell my sister I was going out, but according to her work schedule on the fridge, she’d be waiting tables until ten anyway.
Rip nodded, that tiny smile melting off until his facial expression was just… more easygoing than usual. “All right.”
That was the level of excitement I was expecting, and it made me smile.
It was fine. I was ready to get the hell out of there and get to work, forget my nightmare and this morning, and just… be fine.
“I hope you like your cake, but I should get to the booth,” I told him, taking a step back and keeping the smile on my face.
“Busy day?” Mr. Cooper asked, sounding about as professional as he ever did with me because we were in front of Rip.
I turned to look at him and nodded, giving him a rundown of what I had on the schedule. “It’s been so humid, the paint is being a pain drying, but I’ll figure it out.”