Page 47 of Hauling Ashe

“Hang up,” he demands, his tone sharp and commanding.

“What was that?” Adam asks.

“It’s—” No one? Nothing? I don’t want to deny Tucker sitting beside me, but I also don’t need to explain myself to Adam. Quickly catching Tucker’s eyes, he shakes his head again, warning me not to clarify.

“Mae?” Adam shrills through the line.

“I gotta go.” I reach forward and press end on the call and the car falls into heavy silence. Tucker continues to stare at me, waiting on an explanation, and I shrug.

“He stole money from our joint businesses. His own, the landscaping side, was easier to disguise because I didn’t have access to the books for that division. However, Adam had access to the accounts for the flower shop and garden center, and admittedly, I’ve never been good at the accounting. It’s one reason I hired on Pam as my manager at first.” Tucker knows Pam is my business partner. “She caught what she thought were errors. When we took everything to an accountant when separating the businesses in the divorce, I learned the truth. It’d been a little bit here and a little bit there. Nothing large enough to be noticed, but the dollars added up. I always wondered how he bought this car for our son, but I honestly don’t think the money he took was to save up for Louie.” I stroke a hand over the dashboard.

“Mae, you should have pressed charges.”

“I’m a sucker for promises.” My voice is bitter. Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me three times? There isn’t even a saying for that. It renders one speechless by the sheer stupidity.

“You still can.”

“Actually, I don’t think I can. It’s been five years and there’s some statute on the timing.” I don’t know the details, but after Adam was legally removed from any connection with the flower shop and garden center, I didn’t care to follow through with my investigation. He had his business. I had mine. We had to grin and bear it with the community, putting up a false front that we were a united, professional team while we hated each other. Adam didn’t always purchase his flowers from me for his landscaping jobs and that was his loss. I didn’t have a say in how he did business. Many of my customers were do-it-yourselfers and for those who wanted additional help, I’d allow my staff to be hired on the side for a small service fee. We weren’t exactly competing with Eden Landscaping, just beating Adam at his own game.

“I can have someone look into this for you,” Tucker offers, and his concern is welcome but not necessary.

“My brother is a financial investor. He checked things out as well and offered the same thing. He knew a guy.” I drop my voice to sound gangster-ish. “He also gave me some of the capital to buy Adam out and remove him from the business.” Paying Adam made me sick, because he’d taken money from me, but funds needed to be exchanged in some manner, so the sale was on record that I purchased his share. “Garrett owns ten-percent just to have his name in our books. Pam owns a forty-percent, and I own the rest.” Pam’s husband was happy to invest whatever amount she needed as a wedding present when they’d married.

Tucker swipes a hand over his head. “What a fucking asshole.”

“Yeah.”

“And what a schmuck to call with your son’s phone.”

“He does that sometimes because I have him in my phone as Sperm Donor.”

Tucker laughs before reminding me, “He wasn’t worthy.”

The statement warms me. “Right again, but I wouldn’t trade my boys, so there is that.” It’s hard to fault Adam a thousand percent because he’s the one who gave me Wyatt and Owen. At least, his sperm helped me conceive them.

“We developed Impact because of something similar.” Tucker narrows his eyes toward the windshield as he speaks. “At first, Rochelle and I had been partners while I worked in marketing for the family business. As she grew, we formed a corporation, and I became chief executive officer and head of marketing while she remained president. Ten years in, she was even bigger than we ever anticipated. Machlan and I formed Impact and made Rochelle a client. Some days I’m so grateful for the twist in my life.”

It sounds like another story, but I’m still focused on how easily he’s opening up to me.

“She was just such a—” The car jostles and a tire thump-thumps.

“Oh my God.” My hands grip the steering wheel tighter, struggling to keep the car steady. I’m afraid to remove my hands from the wheel and Tucker hits the hazard lights. Cautiously, I take my foot off the accelerator, steer toward the shoulder on a lopsided car and slow until I feel comfortable tapping the brakes. One thing Granddad taught me was never slam the brakes or you’ll spin out of control. Once I cut the engine, we both take a moment to exhale in relief. I shift my gaze to the rearview mirror; thankful another vehicle didn’t run into us as we slowed.

“Are you okay?” Tucker’s looking at me, but I can’t seem to turn my head. My eyes remain on the road before us, grateful we’re off to the side.

“I’m fine,” I lie. Going seventy miles an hour when the tire punctured has my heart racing.

Tucker warns me to stay in the car before he pops out the passenger door, but I’m opening the driver one as well. The car rattles as a semi-tractor trailer truck speeds past us and Tucker and I meet at the trunk.

“What did you hit?” he asks, not accusing me, but curious. He glances down the highway for something.

“I have no idea.” I don’t see anything either. I hadn’t seen a thing in the road, but the left back tire is shot.

Tucker reaches out for my arm and runs a hand down it. “Okay. I can fix this.” He pops the trunk and starts removing our suitcases. The spare is in a hatch underneath them. With our luggage on the side of the road, he hikes the spare tire out of the well and I remove the jack. There’s a funny-looking crossbar tool that looks like a giant X and while I know it’s for removing the lug nuts, I twirl the metal tool in my hand.

“I should have been a baton twirler,” I say over the roar of more vehicles whizzing down the highway. Tossing the lug wrench into the air once more, I overshoot, and the heavy metal tool flips out toward the asphalt and bounces away from us. I step forward onto the highway pavement.

“Mae!” Tucker hollers at the same time I hear the harsh horn of a semi-truck. Hands on my hips drag me backward and slam me awkwardly against the open trunk.