Mr. January: A Second Chance Romance (Calendar Boys Book 1) Read online

  “If you believe that then you’re an even bigger idiot than I am,” he states calmly. “She might not have come in to see you like I did, but she didn’t just stop thinking about you. I’d put money on that.”

  My wife might have disowned me when I got put away, but Jeff was always there. Every single week. He’s a know it all prick, but he’s the best mate a guy could ask for – not that I’d tell him that. He’s always had my back. No questions asked.

  “I just want her back.”

  He stands up and wanders over to the coffee machine. “Your ugly ass managed to seal the deal with her once. Figure out how to do it again.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Just like that.”

  “She wanted me to kiss her today.”

  He snorts a laugh. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

  Her brain might be warning her to steer well clear of me, but her body undoubtedly is still mine, that much I know for sure. She still shakes under my touch.

  If there’s one thing I know about Dylan, it’s that she’s stubborn as hell, and if I’m going to get her back, I’m going to have to fight hard – and dirty.

  My woman always liked it dirty anyway.

  “I’m afraid to ask what’s going through that fucked up mind of yours,” Jeff drawls.

  “You don’t want to know.” I grin wickedly.

  “You know what I do want?”

  I tilt my head and raise my brows at him.

  “To shut down this little therapy session and go back to running a fucking business. You think you can manage that, sugar plum?”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Dylan

  “You can do this.”

  “I can do this,” I repeat.

  “He has no control over you.”

  I almost laugh. He has all the control over me, as much as I hate to admit it.

  I glance at Sarah sheepishly.

  “Say it,” she demands in her usual no bullshit manner.

  I take a deep breath and lie through my teeth. “He has no control over me.”

  “You’re a terrible liar.” She groans.

  I grimace.

  “He’s a thief and an asshole, D, you’re better off without him.”

  Logically I know she’s right, but those two years I had with him were the most passionate, love filled, infuriating years of my life. All my best days have been with him.

  He’s always brought out the best and the very worst in me at the same time.

  He’s got a unique ability to drive me crazy on both ends of the spectrum – I never could quite decide if I loved him more than I hated him.

  “You are better off without him, right?” She waves her hand in front of my face, snapping me from my trance.

  “Um, I think so?” I wince.

  “Oh Jesus.”

  “I know,” I mutter in agreement.

  She narrows her eyes at me. “He looked good, didn’t he?”

  It’s my turn to groan now. I don’t even bother lying. “Even better than before. He looks like he’s been at a fitness retreat this entire time.”

  “Seriously? I didn’t think that man could get any hotter.”

  I smack her arm and grin at her. “Well he did. Oh god, what am I going to do?”

  She sits her hands on her hips and gives me the ‘this is what’s going to happen’ look.

  “You’re going to march that sweet ass of yours back into whatever dirty, little hovel he’s hanging out in and get him to sign those papers, you got it?”

  “But that’s the thing… he’s not slinking around in some dodgy dump. I barged into some type of business meeting, Sare.”

  “What? Who the hell wants to do business with a guy fresh out of the slammer?”

  “Some guy called Tony?” I shrug. “A few other guys I didn’t know… and…” I pause for dramatic effect. “Jeff.”

  I wait for her reaction. The only thing I think my best friend hates more than my soon-to-be ex-husband is his side kick.

  “Well then… no surprises there,” she mutters as she shoots daggers at me. “Those two haven’t got a set of morals between them.”

  I bite my lip to keep from laughing.

  This might possibly be the least funny situation I’ve ever found myself in, with a divorce looming at only twenty-six years old, but I still can’t help but have a little giggle at Sarah’s pissed-off expression.

  Her and Jeff were a thing for all of five minutes, but instead of making it down the aisle like Andy and I, they went up in flames and came down firing – mainly at one another.

  As much as I’d like to jump down the rabbit hole that is Sarah and Jeff, right now I’ve got bigger fish to fry.

  This isn’t one of those problems I can hide from forever.

  I need him to sign – the sooner the better.

  “He’s been out five days, Dylan, how the hell is he in a business meeting already?”

  It’s the question I’ve been asking myself ever since I walked out of that building, and I still don’t have an answer.

  I shrug.

  “You’re a journalist.” She smirks. “Maybe it’s time you found out.”

  ***

  “Stu, I need a favour,” I announce as I bustle myself into his office.

  “You always need something,” he says.

  “I know, I know… and I’m going to need it faster than you managed last time.”

  He raises his brows at me over the top of the magazine he’s flicking through.

  “Please?” I add in a sickly sweet voice.

  He looks at me as though he’s waiting for me to beg further.

  “Oh c’mon,” I moan, “it’s not like you’ve got anything better to do by the looks of things.”

  “You’re lucky you’ve got that red hair, you know? It explains why you’ve got such a short fuse.”

  “Oh, ha ha.”

  He tosses the magazine onto his desk and gives me his full attention.

  “Alright, what’s his name and date of birth?” he asks.

  I frown at him. “How’d you know it was about a guy?”

  “Oh sweetie, a woman’s face looks that pissed off,” he points at me, “it’s always about a man.”

  I roll my eyes but don’t bother denying it. You can’t argue with the truth.

  “Andrew Woodman,” I tell him.

  I know he won’t recognise the name right away – I use my maiden name at my job and I’ve worked hard to ensure I’m not linked to a criminal in any way.

  “Oooh…” He winks at me. “You know I like my men with a good bit of wood.”

  “How do you like your women then?” I tease.

  “With red hair and a booty,” he says as he scrawls Andy’s name down on a pad of paper along with the date of birth I know off by heart. “So, who is this guy and what’s he done to my favourite journo?”

  “I want to know everything you can find out about what he’s been up to in the past three years. In particular, any businesses he may have created or invested in.”

  He raps his fingers on the edge of his desk. “I’ll have it to you within the hour.”

  “Thanks, Stu.” I ignore his questions and turn on my heel to leave him to it.

  “So, who is he?”

  I sigh in defeat. I could say nothing, but there’s a reason I came to Stu, he’s the best – it’s only going to take him a matter of minutes to figure it all out anyway.

  “He’s my husband,” I growl as I stalk out of his office. “And I want his ass handed to me on a silver platter.”

  “Oooooh, girl.” I hear Stu laugh as I disappear down the hallway.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Andy

  I’m on my back, tucked half under the body of the car I’m working on when I hear the familiar sound of heels clicking against concrete.

  It’s like déjà vu.

  I heard that very sound before I first laid eyes on her. Back when I wasn’t much over twenty-two years old. She walked that
sweet body of hers into the garage I was working in, and as they say, the rest is history.

  “This is almost too tempting,” she says. “You know, I bet I could release this jack and make it look like an accident that you were crushed to death.”

  I push with my feet so the creeper rolls me out from underneath the engine.

  I’m pretty confident she’s joking, but you just can’t be too careful when it comes to disgruntled wives as far as I’m concerned.

  “Two visits in as many days. You making up for lost time?” I say as I jump agilely to my feet.

  Her eyes rake over my face and down to my grease-smeared bare chest.

  “I see you still haven’t learnt how to wear clothes,” she says, her tone full of unimpressed sass, but her eyes alight with desire.

  I can’t help the sly smirk that spreads over my lips.

  “Or wash yourself for that matter.” She rolls her eyes dramatically, but I don’t miss the slight blush staining her cheeks as she’s caught checking out my half-naked body.

  Looks like I’m not the only one who’s reminiscing about the old days after all.

  “No broken-down car this time, princess?” I wink at her.

  She narrows her eyes at me but doesn’t answer.

  That’s what brought her to me all those years ago – her piece-of-shit broken-down hatchback. I worked for hours on that hunk of junk – all to buy myself more time with its owner.

  “What? No trip down memory lane?”

  “Memory lane is closed,” she snaps.

  She strolls past the bonnet of the car I’m working on and runs the tip of one of her fingers over the glossy paint.

  I can’t even explain why the simple, non-sexual gesture makes my dick jump in my jeans, but it does.

  “Although… I did happen to take a small stroll into the past three years… I see you’ve been a busy boy.”

  “You keep tabs on people for a living, Dylan, do you expect me to believe that you didn’t do the same for me?” I smirk at her.

  “You can believe whatever you want, Andy,” she answers, her tone tired. “But I’m telling you, I haven’t asked about you once.”

  My ego takes a hit as I look at her and realise she’s telling the truth.

  She hasn’t asked about me.

  The old Dylan would have known every little detail about me the minute it became available.

  Apparently, the new Dylan isn’t as bothered with me as the old one was.

  The fact that she didn’t know anything prior to showing up here yesterday only reinforces my hunch that she really has been trying to erase me from her life for good this time.

  It causes a physical ache in my chest to think about having any kind of life without her – but it’s pretty fucking clear that she doesn’t feel the same way anymore.

  In fact, the only thing it seems she knows about me and my time spent behind bars, prior to right now, is that I finally got out, and considering she hasn’t been keeping an eye on me, I don’t even know how she found that out.

  My parole office didn’t tell her – I know that much, and she changed her cell-phone number the minute I got locked up, so even if I’d wanted to call her and tell her myself, I couldn’t.

  I would blame Jeff for it, but I’ve got his word that he didn’t tell her anything other than where she could find me. She was already armed with the information of my release.

  “How’d you know I was out?”

  She spins around to face me. Her expression tells me she’s surprised at my choice of question.

  The corner of her lip twitches as though she’s debating whether or not to give up her source. “Bruno,” she exhales on a laugh.

  “Bruno, as in the warden?”

  She winks at me. “He owed me a favour.”

  I wasn’t expecting her to say that. I know full well that Dylan has contacts all over the city, but I didn’t think even she had a reach quite that long.

  I grin at her. “Are you sure you haven’t been spying on me the whole time?”

  “Don’t flatter yourself,” she says as she sways her hips over to look at the ’69 Corvette parked in the corner.

  “We had a deal – I only wanted to know if you got out. He told me when you went to court, and he gave me your release date. Nothing else.” She circles the car slowly and inclines her head in the direction of it. “Nice ride.”

  I don’t tell her that it’s mine. There’s a lot of heavy objects around and her temper seems to be just as fiery now as it ever was.

  I might be willing to do just about anything for this woman, but if I can avoid having to repaint my baby, I will.

  “So… this is a mechanics garage,” she says, “and you own it.”

  “You didn’t see that yesterday during your little hissy fit?” I raise my brow at her in question. “There’s a big sign out front saying, “Woodman and Stone.””

  I snag a rag off my tool station and wipe some of the grease off my hands with it.

  She doesn’t reply as she strolls back towards me looking every inch the sexy bombshell.

  She’s wearing a tight, white dress that shows off every curve on her body – the very same body I craved each and every night since I got put away.

  “I was a little preoccupied with my rage.”

  “I noticed. You scared the shit out of my receptionist.”

  She glances in the direction of the front desk, which is visible through the window-lined wall.

  “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you’ve got some pretty little thing involved in whatever this is.” She gestures around the garage.

  “Bree,” I prompt. “And if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were jealous.”

  She laughs. “Dreams are free, Andy.”

  I haven’t heard the sound of her laugh in three years, and I’m momentarily shocked still by something that was once so familiar to me.

  It hits me hard then, just how much I’ve missed her.

  I’d do anything to be able to touch her right now, but I know that she’d probably whack me with a wrench if I tried.

  “Did you do what I asked?” She looks at me with a hopeful expression that slices deep into my heart.

  I shake my head, and she closes her eyes momentarily in disappointment.

  I hate myself for it coming to this between us, and I know damn well that if I’m going to get my wife back I’m going to have to be smart about it.

  A woman like Dylan can’t be negotiated with right off the bat – she’s too stubborn and too proud for that… she has to be tempted first.

  I make a show of rubbing at the grease on my abdomen with the rag in my hand. Her eyes trace down my front once again and I chuckle.

  I can’t blame her for taking notice, avoiding the crappy prison food and having nearly unlimited hours to work out has been kind to me. I’m in the best shape of my life.

  I’ve had nothing but time lately and I haven’t wasted a minute of it.

  She huffs out a breath when she realises she’s been caught staring yet again and storms off towards the other side of the garage. She pulls out a chair and inspects it for cleanliness before sitting down on it and crossing her arms across her chest.

  “Not that I’m complaining about the view, but why exactly are you here, Dylan?” I ask as I pick up my drill.

  “Cut the crap, Andy. You know why.”

  I shake my head in amusement. “Well you better make yourself comfortable, princess, because if you’re waiting on my signature, it’s gonna be a fucking long wait.”

  “I’ve got nowhere to be,” she replies, her tone cocky.

  I shrug and turn back to the car.

  I don’t know what game she’s attempting to play – she might have been able to out wait me once upon a time – but she seems to have forgotten that I’ve had thirty-six months to practise patience.

  “Suit yourself.” I shrug as I go back to my work.

  ***

  Credit where credit’s due, she’
s lasted a fuckin’ long time in that chair – a lot longer than I thought she would. She’s only got up twice – both times to pee and she’s barely eaten. Bree, who I genuinely think is scared of my wife, brought her a coffee and a sandwich; that was hours ago – all the staff have long since gone home.

  Other than that, she’s just sat there, staring at me as I work, as though I’m the devil himself reincarnated. The only time she stopped huffing and puffing for longer than ten minutes was when Jeff arrived.

  The bastard even got a hug and a smile.

  “How long you think she’s gonna sit there for?” he whispers to me in a hushed tone.

  “Pass me that screwdriver.” I point to the tool behind him and he hands it to me. I tighten up the screw before glancing up at him. “I dunno, man, probably all night if she thinks it’s getting to me.”

  “Is it getting to you?” He smirks at me.

  “Not nearly as much as you are,” I quip.

  “What are you gonna do about her?”

  I shrug. “Let her sit I guess.”

  “It’s getting cold, she hasn’t even got a jacket.”

  We both glance over at my stubborn-ass wife. She’s still perched in her chair, her phone in her hand, nothing but her tiny dress and heels on.

  “Not my problem. No one’s keeping her here.”

  I thought the same thing about an hour ago, but there’s no way in hell I was going to be the one to give in by offering her something warm.

  “I’m gonna go find her something.”

  “For the love of god, don’t go making her more comfortable,” I hiss at him.

  He ignores me and heads off in search of something to keep my wife warm and comfortable as she torments me.

  “Asshole,” I mumble.

  My so-called best mate is enjoying this a little too much if you ask me. I know he cares a lot about Dylan, but right now, his nurturing bullshit isn’t doing me any favours.

  He comes back with a blanket which he drapes across her shoulders.

  She smiles up at him like he’s her favourite person in the world and I snap.