But if they stayed on schedule¸ they’d be turning the key at the end of the next day.
He just hoped she’d turn over and catch. As many builds as he’d done, that was always a crapshoot, and if it didn’t happen, finding out why could tack on anywhere from half an hour to half a week.
“Joker! Honey! You have a visitor!”
He turned to the door to the office at Cherry’s call.
Then he smiled when he saw the man walk out behind her.
Mr. Robinson. Keith.
The man had his hand out before they met, and they were shaking when they did.
“You told me to call,” Keith said. “But I was close so I thought I’d just stop by.”
“Glad you did,” Joker replied, breaking contact.
Keith’s eyes went to the car. “Is she yours?”
Joker looked to the car too. “The one I’m workin’ on now, yeah.”
Joker felt the man’s eyes on him when he stated, “She’s a beauty.”
He looked to Keith and grinned. “Wanna see?”
Keith nodded and Joker led him to the car.
“So what’s your responsibility with this?” Keith asked as they walked.
“All a’ it,” Joker told him.
They stopped by the car and Keith looked to him. “Sorry?”
“Design, chassis, body, exhaust, suspension, transmission, engine, wheels, interior, paint.” He looked to the car. “Bumper to bumper, roof to wheels, she’s mine.”
“That’s, uh… I… Carson…” Joker looked back to him as he stammered. “That’s incredibly impressive.”
That felt good, but even so, Joker shrugged.
“My job,” he muttered and went on, “Don’t stitch leather or anything. Most of the interior we subcontract the build or restore, utilizing kickass shit we find in vehicles that are beyond restoration. We refurbish and manipulate it to fit. And I don’t paint. We got a paint guy who does that, another one who does pinstriping. I envision airbrushing, I do some a’ that, but if it’s time-consuming, we’re on deadline and I don’t got that time, we got a guy who helps out—”
“You airbrush?” Keith asked and again Joker shrugged.
“Yeah.”
Slowly, Keith smiled before he said, “I’d like to see some of that.”
Joker nodded. “Cherry’s got a book in the office of old builds. I can—”
He stopped talking when he heard, “Sweetie!”
He turned and didn’t even try to stop his big smile when he saw Carissa hurrying toward him wearing a cute dress that swung around her thighs, exposing her legs from the knees down, high-heeled, girlie sandals, her hair loose and big, light makeup, Travis on her hip.
And with her was Mrs. Heely.
“Look who I have!” she cried, turning slightly to indicate Mrs. Heely.
“Yo, Butterfly,” he called and looked to the woman with her. “Momma Heely.”
Mrs. Heely rolled her eyes.
Carissa came right to him, deep into his space, hand to his stomach, and rolled up to kiss his stubbled jaw.
Travis latched on in a way that when she pulled back, he was still claiming Joker. Joker took the hint and pulled the kid into his arms.
“Yo, boy,” he said to him.
“Goo, dah, bah,” Travis replied.
“That good a day?” Joker asked.
“Bah!” Travis agreed, lifting his hands and smacking Joker in the jaw with one, the mouth with the other, where he curled in and tugged.
Joker let him and did it grinning.
Then he turned and bent to Mrs. Heely so she could touch her hand to his cheek.
Her eyes were smiling but her lips were muttering, “And again, he doesn’t shave.”
He kept grinning at her as he straightened away.
“Oh my gosh! Look at this! It’s all coming together from your sketch and it’s amazing!” Carissa cried and Joker turned to her to see her hands clasped in front of her.
Then she leaned into the cover over the fender and watching her do it, he decided after the ignition caught, the test runs were done, it was late, and the garage was deserted, he was dropping the hood and fucking her right there.
In those shoes.
She turned to him and exclaimed again, “Amazing!” She twisted to look at Mrs. Heely. “Isn’t this amazing?”
“Did you build this, Carson?” the woman asked, and Carson looked to her to see she looked her brand of what Carissa looked.
Amazed.
“Yeah,” he muttered.
Mrs. Heely moved eyes shining with pride to him. “Obviously, I don’t see myself behind the wheel, but that makes it no less magnificent.”
“I see it’s unanimous,” Keith put in, and Joker caught Carissa straightening from the car and turning to him.
“I’m so sorry. We interrupted. I…” Her eyes got huge, Carson took in how cute that was, and she clapped her hands in front of her three times and yelled, “Mr. Robinson!”
“You caught me,” Keith said on a smile.
Carissa rushed him and gave him a quick hug. She leaned back, hands still on his biceps, smiling like a lunatic up in his face.
“This is so wonderful!” she exclaimed. “Are you here because you heard about Wilde and Hay?”
She let him go and stepped away as Keith shook his head, looking mildly confused, and asked, “Sorry, no. Wilde and Hay?”
“They’re doing a big spread on Joker,” she told him then added, “Carson,” when Keith continued to look confused.
The man stopped looking confused as his eyes slowly turned to Joker.
“No,” he answered Carissa quietly. “Just came to see Carson’s work. I had no idea.” His voice dropped quieter. “But I’m not surprised.”
Joker hefted up Travis, who’d let go of his lip but latched on to his shirt, and Keith’s eyes went to the kid.
Joker stopped feeling the good that was heating his chest, and he braced when Keith took in Travis.
His eyes came back. “You didn’t mention you and Carissa had a son.”
Before Joker could say anything, Carissa pushed under his arm, forcing him to drape it around her shoulders (not that he wouldn’t do that anyway), and curling hers around his waist as she pressed into his side and said, “Travis is Aaron Neiland’s, Mr. Robinson. We were married. Now we’re not and I’m with Jo… Carson.”
“Ah,” Keith murmured.
Carissa reached across and gently pulled Travis’s hand from Joker’s shirt. Waving it at Keith, she ordered, “Say hello to Mr. Robinson, Googly.”