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A Father's Name
Holly Jacobs
A love to be proud ofTucker–as Angelina Tucker is known to her friends–is in the midst of big change. The pressures of juggling single parenthood and the family business keep her busy 24/7. And now something else is throwing her world into flux–Tyler Martinez.Oh, right. That Tyler. The successful–and sexy–business guy who asked her out. The same guy she turned down.But Tyler needs a job. He also needs her help with the toddler he's guardian to. So what are she and Tyler, exactly? Helpmates? Friends with benefits? She needs some definitions, because she's already in love with his little boy and–heaven help her–she's falling for Tyler, too…



This could be his only chance…
Tyler started to move toward the sleeping baby, when Angelina intercepted him and kissed him.
She instigated it, and controlled it. Taking that simple kiss and turning it into something profound.
There was hunger in her kiss, but there was tenderness, too.
And that tenderness was his undoing.
All Tyler’s fine ideals and plans to walk away faded beneath the weight of that tenderness. There, over the sleeping baby, he kissed Angelina back, trying to say in that one gesture what he would never say in words.
Dear Reader,
The greatest tool a writer has is the question, what if? I introduced this book’s heroine, Tucker, in Unexpected Gifts, and she’s been in other stories since. In that first book, she and her friend Eli were commiserating about their problems with men and Tucker complained that she was being actively pursued by a designer suit-wearing businessman who she felt she had nothing in common with. So, I asked, what if this man, Tyler, lost everything? His job, his money, his designer suits…and most important, his good name. And what if he finds himself back in Tucker’s life? That’s how the idea for A Father’s Name was born.
But this was a book that required a bit more assistance than usual. You see, I know nothing about cars, other than how to turn one on and how to fill it with gas, and Tucker works at a garage. And my hero lost everything because of a legal jam. The jam itself wasn’t hard for me to come up with, but getting him out of his legal problems took a bit more help than my policeman husband could give me, which is why I spent a lovely afternoon in Erie eating lunch on the bay with a judge and an assistant district attorney. With their help, we came up with a resolution that is within the realms of legal possibility, if not probability. That is one of the best things about being a writer. I get to learn a little about a lot of things, and I also get to meet and spend time with some awesome experts from various fields.
Tucker and Tyler discover that it’s not only authors who need help…everyone does. It takes a village to raise a child and to write a book, and sometimes it takes help from friends and even judges and A.D.A.s to fall in love! I hope you enjoy their story!
Holly Jacobs
PS—Please visit me at www.HollyJacobs.com, or contact me at P.O. Box 11102, Erie, PA 16514-1102.

A Father’s Name
Holly Jacobs

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
In 2000, Holly Jacobs sold her first book to Harlequin Enterprises. She’s since sold more than twenty-five novels to the publisher. Her romances have won numerous awards and made the Waldenbooks bestseller list. In 2005, Holly won a prestigious Career Achievement Award from RT Book Reviews. In her nonwriting life, Holly is married to a police captain, and together they have four children. Visit Holly at www.HollyJacobs.com, or you can snail-mail her at P.O. Box 11102, Erie, PA 16514-1102.
They say it takes a village to raise a child…
sometimes it takes a village to write a book.
This one required a lot of outside help.
Thanks to John and Joe for the car help!
Thanks to Judge Stephanie Domitrovich and
A.D.A. Nathaniel Strasser for the legal expertise—
any legal stretches are all mine!
Thanks to Jess, Kate and Abbey, who gave me
insight into how torturous pedicures can be, and
to Jeremy Bettis Levitt, who helped me remember
what life with a one-year-old is like!
And finally, thank you to all my Facebook
and eHarlequin friends who helped me
out with T-shirt ideas.

CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
EPILOGUE

PROLOGUE
“HOW DO YOU plead?”
Tyler Martinez didn’t look at the judge; instead he glanced back at the spectators. Mellie was there, though she should have been home in bed. Her face was drawn and pale. She wore a white scarf that he’d brought home as a gift from his trip to Cannes a few months ago.
He wasn’t sure why he’d noticed that, but he did. When he’d made that trip, he never realized how his life was about to change. Only a few months had gone by, but it felt like a lifetime.
The only constant in life was change.
He wasn’t sure where he’d read that, or why he’d thought of it other than the truth of the statement was staring him in the face. Maybe for some people change was a good thing, but not for Tyler—and certainly not these kinds of changes.
Jason was sitting next to Mellie, anguish etched on his face. Tyler smiled in a useless attempt to reassure his best friend. He wanted Jason to believe that everything would be all right.
Mellie took Jason’s hand and held it. Both Tyler and Jason knew that nothing would be all right again.
Tyler wished there was more he could do, but there wasn’t.
There wasn’t anything more anyone could do.
So this gesture would have to be enough.
“I don’t contest the charges, Your Honor.”
Tyler Martinez listened as the judge sentenced him. He watched his friends as he was led from the courtroom, knowing that when he got out of jail in six months there was a very good chance that Mellie wouldn’t be waiting with Jason.

CHAPTER ONE
GARY JOHNSON’S PHONE number flashed as a missed call on Angelina Tucker’s cellphone and she tried to tamp down her annoyance.
Tucker didn’t date often, but when she did, she practiced a catch-and-release program. Unfortunately, Gary Johnson didn’t want to be released and had been calling for days asking for another date.
She’d tried being polite, then tried to joke and pretend she was one of the guys with her let’s-be-buddies pitch. Neither worked. Gary obviously wasn’t getting her not-so subtle hints. She’d have to try something more direct.
The man was so dense it was going to have to be something big. Something like a swift kick or else a restraining order.
Gary’s number on her caller ID had left a sour taste to what was normally her happy Monday mood. She stomped into the garage, not wanting to think about returning that phone call.
“Hey, Lou,” she called by way of a greeting as she made a beeline for the coffee machine.
“What’s on the schedule today?” Lou asked.
“I’ve got to come up with some brilliant idea for the Paradisi bike.” Tucker was building a name for her custom paint jobs on motorcycles and an occasional car or truck. Thanks to the popularity of shows like American Chopper and Pimp My Ride, her air-brushed murals, pictures and plain old pinstriping had taken more and more of her time away from the basic mechanic work.
She took a long sip of her coffee, knowing she needed caffeine in her system before she could come anywhere close to inspired.
She thought about the black custom bike that sat in her paint room as she appreciated a second sip. “Lou, you and the other guys start in on the appointments, okay? I’m going to head back to my office for an hour or so. I have some invoices to get out.”
The only good thing about paperwork was that she hated it so much her mind frequently wandered and got creative to avoid doing it.
“Is your dad coming in today?” Lou asked.
“I’m sure he’ll show up eventually.” She offered what she hoped was a reassuring smile to Lou, but she couldn’t be sure. She wasn’t good at faking it—never had been. She needed to tell the guys the truth soon.
Soon, but not today.
“’Kay, Tuck,” the older man said.
“Way to go, Tuck,” she muttered to herself as she stomped to her office. She had to tell the guys sometime, but not until her dad was ready. And to date, George Tucker wasn’t ready and she wasn’t going to rush him. Lou knew the score without explanation and had pretty much taken over running the floor of the garage without being asked. And she’d taken over most of the hated paperwork. If her dad really did retire, she’d be doing it forever.
That was not the thought she wanted to start her day with, much less a week with.
She needed to speak to her dad about giving Lou a raise. Just one more thing on her to-do list. A list that no matter how hard she worked never seemed to get any shorter.
She slammed open her office door, her Monday mood really shot now, between Gary Johnson and Lou’s innocent question about her father.
“Well, it’s a hell of a thing when a man can’t rely on his daughter’s totally deluded happy Monday mood.” Her father was sitting in a chair, his own cup of coffee in hand.
“What are you doing here, Pops?”
Her father looked so much better than he had a few months ago. Thanks to her very vigilant eye on his diet, he’d lost a few pounds, which the doctors said would help with his heart problems.
“Enjoying the view.” He pointed at the bird feeder she’d mounted in the overgrown mulberry tree outside the window. “I never noticed the feeder before.”
“I put it up years ago.”
“I figured. It’s got a weathered sort of look to it. Guess there are a lot of things I haven’t noticed before. Sorry for that, kiddo.”
“You noticed plenty, Pops.”
“No. I missed some very big things, and even things I did notice—well, some I plain old ignored. Like the fact you were a girl. It was you, me and the guys at the shop. I treated you like one of them. I never pushed you to do girly things. If you’d had a mom, she’d have made sure you didn’t spend all your time around men and car repairs.”
Since her father had been sick, he’d had days of uncharacteristic nostalgia and occasionally, bouts of regret. Tucker wasn’t sure what to do when he expressed such emotion, other than try to reassure him. “Pops, if I really wanted to do girly things, don’t you think I would have done them? I mean, honestly, in my whole life, has anyone ever forced me to do something I didn’t want to do, or managed to talk me out of something I did?”
“No. But the point is, I never gave you a chance to explore what you wanted. I kept you close and here you are in your thirties and still working at the garage. Still living in the same house.”
Her father had bought a nice double-wide trailer and set it up next to the garage, leaving the house across the street, where she’d grown up, for her and her son, Bart. “You could have stayed there and I could have gotten my own place.”
“Not my point and you know it,” he scolded. “I didn’t want to stay there—but maybe you shouldn’t have wanted to stay there either.”
“Are you saying you want me to move?”
“Are you being deliberately obtuse, Angelina?” her normally affable father lashed out. “I don’t want you to move and you know that I always wanted you to work at the shop with me. But I’m wondering now if I was selfish. Maybe all men reach an age where all they can do is look back and second guess their past decisions.”
“Pops, is something wrong? Are you feeling short of breath, or having chest pains?” It was so hard to think of her once unstoppable father as ill and she hated it. She wanted him well again and back to his old self.
“No. I’m fine now, but I guess being sick leaves a man with a lot of time to think. I’m pushing seventy, and I won’t be here forever. I’m worried about you.”
Last Christmas the doctors had found blockage in her father’s arteries and put a stent in. He’d come back to work, but not full-time. He’d wanted to, but she’d put her foot down. The doctor had told her that her father needed a lighter schedule, less stress and a better diet. She’d made it a point on trying to see he had all three, but she obviously hadn’t done a good enough job if he was worried about her. “I’m fine, Pops. You have to know that I love my life.”
“Yeah, but your life has always centered around the job, me and Bart. I’m here to tell you that I’m stepping back from the day-to-day operations of Tucker’s Garage. Actually, that’s a cop-out. I’m not only stepping back, I’ve decided that I’m retiring. Officially. I’m going to leave the business, along with the worries, in your capable hands. And Bart is going away to college in the fall. I guess, I’m concerned about where that’s going to leave you.”
Tucker looked at her father. Finding out her father was mortal shouldn’t have come as a shock, but he’d always been so healthy, so much larger than life. His illness had scared her. He looked better now, but she couldn’t help but worry. Having him retire from the business and take it easy would ease those worries a bit.
“I think it’s a great idea, Pops. Me and the boys can handle things at the shop.”
“We both know that you’ve been handling things for the last five months with no problem, other than there’s been too much work for four people.”
“And we’re not complaining,” she pointed out. “Given the economy, it’s great that our business hasn’t ebbed, but instead has exploded. The guys don’t mind overtime, and I help in the garage as much as my schedule allows.”
“A lot of that increased business has come from your end of things. You need to concentrate on the painting, not the repairs. And now that I’m officially retiring, you’ll really have the business side of things to focus on, too.”
“I can do it all.” To be honest, she had a lot of time to work. Even though Bart was still here, he was wrapped up in his own life and enjoying the end of his senior year of high school, and she encouraged that. She’d been in her teens when she had him, and she wanted to give him all the moments she’d missed out on.
“Now that I’ve decided to retire, rather than just cut back, I think, more than ever, we should find someone to buy into the business,” her father said.
“No.” Since he’d been ill, he’d mentioned selling his half of the business to someone who could help them out. Someone who would have a vested interest in things. Tucker just shook her head. They’d had this conversation—well, fight actually—before. She didn’t want some stranger having a say in the business she’d invested her blood, sweat and paint in, but she didn’t want to upset her father by fighting about it again.
“We could let someone else buy in and do all those things you hate. The things I used to do,” he tossed out, obviously hoping it would make the idea more appealing to her.
“No,” she repeated, hoping her monosyllabic response would get her point across without another out-and-out argument that would send his blood pressure skyrocketing.
“I’d say we could hire someone, but I don’t trust someone who doesn’t have a vested interest. A partner would—”
“Pops, I’ll find a way to make it all work out. It won’t work with another partner.” Hoping to soften her refusal, she added, “Once you’ve worked with the best, it’s hard to settle for anyone else.”
Her father sighed. “I’m not ruling the idea out, but we’ll table it for now. That being said, I am making one last executive decision.” Her father had that look.
Tucker would be hard pressed to define the look to an outsider, but as his daughter, she had no trouble recognizing it. There was a slight compression of his lips. The smallest flaring of his nostrils. He was squinting and reached up to pat his normally rumpled grey hair.
“What decision is that?” She was pretty sure that his look indicated that he thought it was a decision she wouldn’t like. “Pops?”
“I hired someone.”
“Pops, we’ve always done the hiring together.” Even before she’d officially worked for her father, then with him as a partner, he’d had her sit in on interviews. He said he didn’t want her forced to be around someone she didn’t like.
“This one is special. I’ve known the guy for years and he really needed the work. And in the interest of honesty, he’s got a record. White collar, six months in county, still on probation.”
Tucker groaned. “Pops…” She didn’t add anything to it because she knew it was pointless. When her father made his mind up, he was immovable. That’s what his look said. I’m a stone and you can’t budge me. I won’t change my mind. So, she admitted defeat with grace. “When’s he start?”
“Today. Told him to be in by eight-thirty. Wanted to talk to you and smooth things over before he showed up.”
“Yeah, Pops, that’s you, all smooth operatory.”
Her father either didn’t notice her sarcasm, or chose to ignore it as someone knocked on the door and he glanced at his watch. “Punctual. Gotta like that in a new employee,” he said with a grin.
“Come on in,” Tucker called. She expected to see some trouble-hardened man at the door, not… “Mr. Martinez?”
Tyler Martinez was one of the garage’s best customers. He indulged in new vehicles like other people indulged in ice cream. High-end vehicles that fit well with his high-end designer suits, his dark good looks and his power job. But today, there was no designer suit, but rather a well worn pair of jeans and a white T-shirt that emphasized the fact the man worked out.
If the lines beneath his shirts were any indication, he’d been working out more than usual.
Not that she usually noticed.
Okay, so she noticed. A woman would have to be dead in order to ignore Tyler Martinez’s sensual dark features. An image of a panther flashed through her mind and she almost laughed at how cliché that felt.
She pasted on her best business smile. Considering how much money and time Tyler spent at the shop it wouldn’t do to be rude. “Mr. Martinez, I’m in a meeting. If you wouldn’t mind waiting for a few minutes, I’ll come get you and we can go over whatever your current vehicle requires.”
“My current vehicle is a 2002 Ford F-150 that has seen better days, but I’m working on it myself, so it doesn’t require any of the shop’s services.” Tyler frowned at her father. “You didn’t tell her?”
“Doesn’t pay to rush my Angelina,” her father said with a trace of pride in his voice. “She comes around to things in her own time. I did tell her, only I hadn’t told her who.”
Tucker looked at Martinez, then at her father. Her mom-senses were tingling, something that normally only happened with Bart. “Told me?”
“Angel, meet Tucker’s Garage’s newest employee, Tyler Martinez.”
“What the hell, Pops?” She turned to Tyler. “You don’t work in a garage. You work for some fancy investment firm and wouldn’t know a driveshaft from a piston.”
Martinez frowned, his voice had a touch of gravel breaking in its normal whiskey smoothness. “Don’t make assumptions about me, Angel.” He dragged her name out, slow and intimate.
Maybe he thought she’d melt, but instead she felt fired up. “And don’t call me Angel. It’s Tucker, if you don’t mind.” Only her father called her Angelina or worse yet, Angel.
“I do mind, but since I’m an employee, my minding doesn’t count. And to set your mind at ease, a driveshaft transmits torque, and a piston transfers force from the expanding gas to the cylinder—”
“You sound like a freakin’ Autos for Dummies book.” Tucker snorted. “I don’t need an armchair mechanic, I need—”
“Angelina,” her father snapped, “do you really think that I’d hire someone less than capable to work at the shop?”
She might fight with her father in private, but he rarely reprimanded her in public.
Rather than feel chagrined, she was more annoyed than ever. “Pops, it’s obvious that there’s a lot I don’t know, isn’t it? I mean, I came into work today and didn’t know my father—my partner in the business—was quitting. And I didn’t know he’s been interviewing potential employees without me and I didn’t know—”
“Maybe I should leave the two of you to decide if I have a job, or not?” Without waiting for a response, Tyler Martinez left the office and shut the door softly behind himself.
“Now, see what you did, Pops?” Tucker said, feeling a mixture of frustration and embarrassment.
“Daughter, I don’t want to have to pull rank, but…” He left the threat hanging there.
“You wouldn’t.” Annoyance beat out all the other emotions. “You’ve never tried to pull a father-knows-best on me since Bart’s dad.”
“And, I hate to say I told you so then, but…”
Frustration? This went beyond that. Tucker was pissed. Seriously pissed. And it was evident that so was her father. She’d tiptoed around him the last five months, but right now she ignored the fact he had a stent, as well as forgot she was trying to help him avoid stress. “But…?”
“Fine. You want me to finish my sentence?” he said, obviously as raring to fight as she was. “Let’s try this. But I told you Bart’s father was no good, and he was. He left you high and dry, and not to mention pregnant. You were only a teenager. A teenager who had to grow up too quick. I haven’t had to play a father-knows-best card because you’ve lived your entire adult life cautiously. To the best of my knowledge, you’ve steered clear of any more good-looking men, and the men you do go out with don’t last more than a few dates at most. Well, Tyler’s good looking and I know he’s asked you out repeatedly in the past, but I also know he’s a hell of a mechanic. Add to that, over the years, he’s become a friend and he needed my help, so I gave it. Yeah, that means I’m sort of dumping him on you, but you need him.”
“I don’t need any man,” Tucker sputtered.
“No, not like that. I mean, I like Tyler, but I want more than an ex-con for my daughter. No, he’s not only a heck of a mechanic, but he’s got experience handling people. Someone like that should take my place. Lou, Joe and North are great guys, but let’s face it, articulate they ain’t. Tyler is.”
“I’m articulate, Pops. I can do more of the customer interaction if I need to.”
“If you did, you’d be taking time away from your work, and let’s face it, the garage has come to rely on your work. Your painting generates a lot of revenue. It’s helped put us on the map. Hell, I’m a partner who’s retiring, and I’m going to rely on you keeping us on the map. People come from states away to have you customize their cars and motorcycles. You’re an artist, Angel, and that’s what you need to focus on.”
He rose slowly and suddenly looked haggard. “Trust me on this. Tyler will be good for the business.”
Tucker’s anger was replaced by concern. “You sure you’re okay, Pops?”
“Fine. Now, I’m off to celebrate my retirement by going fishing, and I suggest that you go make nice with the new employee and introduce him around, then get started on the Paradisi bike.”
She’d lost. Flat out lost. Most of the time, she’d continue the fight, but in the face of her father’s ill health, she couldn’t.
“Fine,” she said with as much graciousness as she could muster. Her father’s expression relaxed a bit and she knew that giving up the battle was worth it. She’d lose any fight, hire anyone, do anything to keep her father healthy and happy—to keep him with her as long as possible.
“And Angel?” her dad asked.
“Yeah, Pops?”
“I’m turning everything, from this moment on, over to you. I’m not saying we won’t discuss the partner issue again, but I won’t push it on you. As for Tyler, I not only wanted to help him out, I wanted to be sure that you weren’t overwhelmed. I want you to have a life, Angel. I want you to be happy.”
She got up and walked over to her father, then kissed his weathered cheek. “I’m happy, Pops. I only want you to be well.”
“I’m feeling good today. It’s almost summer, the sun is shining, and I’m going to spend my day out on the lake instead of working. That sounds like an excellent day to me.”
She watched him walk slowly out of the office. Worrying about him still weighed on her and the sudden discovery that she was now the official managing partner of Tucker’s Garage only added to it. The title seemed so much more serious than acting managing partner. That title had hinted at the possibility that eventually her father would be back at the helm.
It was time to realize that wasn’t going to happen. But she couldn’t think of what her father’s official retirement implied. She had a new employee to meet and greet.
She’d spent months ducking Tyler Martinez’s date invitations, and now she’d be working with him every day thanks to her father. That was a nasty way to start a week.
Normally, Mondays were her favorite day. They were fresh and full of potential. But this Monday might go down as one of her worst ever on record.

TYLER WANTED TO get up and leave the garage for any number of very valid reasons, the most predominate of which was the fact Angelina Tucker had made it more than clear she wanted nothing to do with him.
A couple years ago, he’d spent months asking her out. She’d been kind with her refusals. She’d even tried some humor. But despite her kindness and humor, she’d made it abundantly clear she wasn’t interested. Eventually, he’d stopped asking and they’d continued an amicable business relationship.
Well, today, it was very clear that she wasn’t interested in having him work here either. In the past, his pride would have dictated him walking out. Now, he had no pride left. He needed a job, and since it was obvious he’d never be able to return to the investment firm, he only had one other skill to fall back on—auto mechanics.
All those years of bringing his vehicles to Tucker’s Garage had made him proud. He was no longer the boy who had grease embedded under his nails. He knew how to repair and maintain his own vehicles, but he didn’t have to.
The phrase pride goes before the fall played in his mind. He ignored it and repeated what had become his personal mantra of sorts. The only constant in life is change. His life was a prime example of that.
He stared out the window at the bucolic scene. The garage sat at the edge of Whedon, Pennsylvania, butting against farmland and woods. Through the copse of budding trees, Tyler could see the cows grazing without a care in the world.
Carefree—Tyler had never experienced that particular sensation. Given his current situation, he doubted he ever would.
“Mr. Martinez?”
He swung around and saw Angelina Tucker at the doorway. “If you’d come with me, I’ll take you out to the shop and introduce you to the guys. I’m sure my father informed you that you’ll be expected to be here at eight in the morning, and we work until five. Occasionally, a customer needs to pick up a car after that, and we take turns staying late. Of course, you’ll be compensated for that. And you’ll be expected to work every other Saturday, from eight until noon. Overtime for that, too. An hour for lunch. We try to stagger our lunches so someone’s always in the shop. I think that’s it. Any questions?”
She looked cute as she raked her fingers through her short, wild brown hair and rattled off the information. Of course, he’d never share the fact that he thought she was cute. Angelina wasn’t interested in him when he’d had money and asked her out. He was pretty sure she’d be even less inclined to date him now. A prison record tended to turn most women off, and the ones it didn’t, well, they weren’t the type of woman who interested him anyway.
“Mr. Martinez?”
He realized he’d been staring at her without responding. “No, everything is perfectly clear to me. Thank you.” She turned and left the room, obviously expecting him to follow. “And I’d like to thank you for taking a chance on me.”
“My father’s the one taking the chance. I’m hoping you prove worthy of it.”
Tyler nodded. “I’ll do everything in my power to.”
“Fine.”
She whisked him into the shop, introduced him to two older men, Joe and Lou, and a younger guy, North, who had a huge tattoo on his forearm.
“North?” he asked.
The kid grinned. “Yeah, my first day here, Lou said I was so far out I might as well be at the North Pole. The name sort of stuck.” North caught Tyler’s line of sight and shook his head. “Nah, it’s not about the tat itself. Lou’s is bigger than mine.”
Lou snorted. “That’s what all the girls say.”
North laughed. “Well, his tat is bigger. No, they seemed to think the inspiration for my tat made me a bit out-there.”
He held his forearm out to Tyler. Tyler recognized the Star Trek symbol above the words Live Long and Prosper.
“Some people,” North looked pointedly at his coworkers, “seem to think having a Star Trek tattoo makes you a fringe element. Me, I say it means I boldly go forth. I kind of like the name anyway.” He clapped Tyler’s back. “Come on. You can help me today.”
Tyler followed the kid, and as he walked away he heard Angelina say, “Keep an eye on him, guys. Make sure he learns his way around the shop.”
He glanced back at Angelina and his pride reared its ugly head again. He wanted to go tell her to stick her job and her father’s pity, but he needed this job and he was going to have to suck it up and deal with her.

“HEY, MOM.”
Tucker glanced at the clock in her paint room and realized it was almost four o’clock. “Hey, Bart, how was school?”
She stood and stretched out the kinks that came from sitting crosslegged on the floor for so long. She should have put the motorcycle on a lift. She flexed her arms and fingers. She’d held the airbrush for too long.
“School was great. First final’s on Monday and the rest come quickly after that. I’m planning on staying in most of the week and this weekend to start study.”
She looked at her son and was, as always, amazed he was hers. Straight A student, good at sports, and cute to boot. Those were all great characteristics. But add to that, he was a nice kid.
He needed a haircut. He hadn’t quite inherited her curls, but when his hair got too long, it fell into waves. She’d make him cut it before graduation.
It never ceased to amaze her that despite the fact she was little more than a kid herself when she had him, she’d managed to raise him to adulthood. She thought it was more a testament to how innately good her son was rather than anything she’d done.
“Nerd,” she teased with good humored affection.
“Yeah, well, you live what you learn. You’re the queen of hard work. Lou said that you didn’t take a lunch break again and he suspects you were working after hours last night. I’m supposed to see to it that you pack it in and call it a day, even if it’s early. And Grandpa said to come over to his house. He cooked.”
Tucker realized her father’s dinner invitation was a peace offering even as she groaned. “Oh, Bart, I’m so sorry. I’m a bad, bad mother. I mean, subjecting you to your grandfather’s cooking is nothing short of torture.”
“Hey, it’s okay. He went to Wegman’s and bought some macaroni salad and there’s tossed salad to go with the steak he’s grilling.”
“Phew.” She wiped her brow with exaggerated relief. “Oh, why didn’t you say so? That’s edible and qualifies me for at least fair-to-middling mom.”
Bart kissed her cheek. “I think you’re higher than that. Not much maybe, but higher than middling,” he joked. “Come on, let’s go get you fed.”
Tucker got up off the floor and studied the bike. It had an RC car on it. Not her first choice for painting, but Mr. Paradisi had three great loves: his motorcycle, his RC car club and his family. He said the pecking order changed daily. “What do you think?”
“I think the Paradisis will be thrilled. You made an RC car look cool. And I love how you worked the gas cap into the remote control picture.”
“Yeah, I thought that was inspired, too. “
They walked out to the front garage and Lou slapped Bart’s back. “Figured you’d talk her out of her hidey-hole. Now, on to supper, boy.”
Tucker loved seeing the guys interact with her son. Bart might not have had a father in the picture growing up, but he had her father, and the guys at the shop. It seemed to be enough for him.
He grinned at the older man. “Sure thing, Lou.”
“Hey, how’s the new guy?” Tucker asked.
“He did a great job today. Knows his way around cars, that’s for sure.”
Tucker couldn’t help but wonder why a guy who knew his way around cars felt the need to have someone else service his vehicles all these years. Even things as simple as new spark plugs or oil changes. It didn’t make sense. She glanced at her son. “Let me check in with him, then we can go. Want to meet him?”
“Sure.”
She found Tyler Martinez underneath a 1953 Volkswagen Beetle. She’d always referred to him as Mr. Martinez when he was a customer, but now that he was an employee, that sounded odd, so she called, “Tyler?”
His creeper zipped out from under the car and Tyler smiled for a minute, then his expression froze when he spotted her. “Yes?”
“I wanted to introduce you to my son. Spencer Tucker, otherwise known as Bart, this is Tyler Martinez, the garage’s newest employee.”
“You can call me Spencer,” Bart told him. “Everyone in the real world does…it’s only here in Mom’s mystic workplace that my childhood nickname still haunts me.”
“That’s because you are not a Spencer,” Tucker assured him. She enjoyed falling into their old argument. “I mean, I thought you were when you were born. I looked down and thought, Spencer. But I was wrong. You’re a Bart, through and through.”
“And that, Mr. Martinez, is why you might as well call me Bart, too. Because Mom will pretend not to know who you’re talking about if you call me Spencer. Just like she doesn’t know who you’re talking to if you call her Angelina.” He singsonged her name and laughed as she scowled.
“And that’s the problem with giving babies names at birth. They’re not fully developed. They’re tiny little blobs of humanity. A good name—a true name—tends to become apparent within the first few years. I’m Tucker, he’s Bart. Do you have a nickname?”
“No. Tyler is fine.”
Tucker noted that Tyler wasn’t enjoying her banter with Bart. His face was frozen into an expression of polite interest, but it was apparent he was anything but.
Not for the first time, she felt foolish in front of him. “Well, we’re heading out. See you in the morning.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Tucker,” she assured him. “Not ma’am.”
“Or Angelina,” Bart said, still kidding around.
“No.” She tossed her son a motherly glare of warning. “It’s simply Tucker.”
“Tucker,” Tyler parroted. “See you tomorrow morning, Tucker.”
“Come on, Bart. Let’s go get something to eat, I’m starved.” She clapped her hand on her son’s back, and for a moment, she thought she caught the ghost of a smile on Tyler’s face, but it happened so fast, she couldn’t be sure. His face was once again expressionless as he gave her a nod, then slipped again under the car.
“He seems nice, Mom,” Bart said.
“Yeah, he seems nice, but meeting someone for a minute doesn’t give us enough information to really discover if they’re nice or not. It takes—”
“Another Mom-lecture, ladies and gentlemen,” Bart teased. “You know, I have friends whose parents wallop them when they make a mistake. Sometimes I wonder if that’s preferable to being lectured to death.”
“That wasn’t a lecture,” she protested.
“No, that was your chance to work in one of your famous life lessons, and those are so close to lectures, it’s hard to tell the difference.”
She playfully slugged his arm. “Well, you can rest assured I can wallop you if the lectures don’t work.”
Bart laughed. “Oh, Mom, you try to be tough. And I imagine there are many people who believe you are, but no one who knows you would believe that for an instant. And I know you, Mom. You’re a marshmallow.”
“Take that back. I work in a garage full of guys and I am not a marshmallow.”
“Oh, yeah. You’re like a great big candy bar. Crunchy on the outside, and all soft or mushy on the inside. Maybe that’ll be your new nickname… Candy.” He sprinted across the yard toward her father’s, hollering “Candy” over his shoulder.
“I’ll show you how tough I can be,” she shouted, taking off after him, laughing for the sheer joy of laughing.
And at that moment, chasing after her son as they both teased each other and laughed, Tucker decided it wasn’t such a bad Monday after all.

CHAPTER TWO
TWO WEEKS.
Tucker stared at the calendar hanging on the wall next to her desk and was struck by the fact that it had already been two weeks since Tyler Martinez had started working at the shop. He was, on paper, the perfect employee. He was the first one to arrive every morning, and the last one to leave every night. He knew as much about cars as anyone in the shop. He got along with everyone, never caused a problem.
But…
Yes, there was a but dangling there at the end of her thoughts.
Tucker tried to put a finger on it. Tyler wasn’t standoffish. He joked around with the guys, and they all seemed to accept him. He didn’t actually joke around with her, but he was polite.
No, standoffish wasn’t the word she wanted. Maybe, closed book was a better description of Tyler Martinez.
Back when her friend Eli was expecting her son and having man troubles of her own, Tyler had actively pursued Tucker. Tucker had said no, of course. After all, Tyler was a successful businessman, and she worked in a garage. He was a carefree bachelor, she was a mother. He wore designer suits, she wore jeans. They had no common ground.
Maybe day-to-day proximity had convinced him that they weren’t meant to be anything more than a boss and employee. Or maybe prison had changed him. Whichever it was, the man she remembered was gone.
And if he didn’t want to nag her for dates anymore, that was fine with her. She wasn’t looking to date him, though she wished he wouldn’t treat her as if she had a case of playground cooties. Even when she’d said no to dates, he’d laughed off her refusals and told her he’d simply keep trying until she said yes. He’d been open and engaging back then, and somewhere between then and now, he’d closed up tight.
Tucker forced herself to concentrate on payroll in front of her. She didn’t have time to ponder the mystery of Tyler Martinez. She went back to tallying hours and calculating checks, when the sound of voices pulled her from her math. She stared out her window, past the mulberry tree, and at the edge of the building she saw Tyler and some tall blond guy.
She couldn’t make out more than a murmuring of voices, but it was obvious it was a serious conversation. The stranger’s voice rose enough for Tucker to hear, “It’s done, Tyler. You can’t undo it. They know the truth.”
Tyler’s voice rose as well. Tucker could hear the utter frustration in it as he said, “A father’s name is the most important thing he can pass on to his son. Hell, you literally passed on your name. Jason Emerich Matthews, junior. Let that mean something to him.”
“I want it to. That’s why I’m doing this. I want my name to mean something. I want Jace to know his father made a mistake—it might have been for all the right reasons, but it was still wrong. I need him to know that I was willing to own up to it and pay the consequences.” The blond guy turned and walked around the corner of building, out of Tucker’s line of sight.
“Jason,” Tyler called and followed him.
What was that all about? Tucker wandered into the garage at the same time Tyler slammed the door and strode over to a workbench.
“What’s going on?” she asked Lou, jerking her head in Tyler’s direction.
The old man shrugged. “Some guy came by, asked for Tyler and they went outside. Whatever they were talking about, it obviously didn’t go well.”
Part of Tucker wanted to see if Tyler was okay, but she suspected he wouldn’t appreciate her concern.
Even from across the shop, she could see the tension practically radiating from him in the way he held himself—stiff and unapproachable. “Right. Holler if you need anything.”
Lou nodded and went back to a car on the lift. Tucker went back to payroll, anxious to finish so she could get back to the paintroom and determined not to think about the garage’s newest employee. He did his work well, and that’s all that should concern her.
She wondered why it wasn’t.

TWO DAYS LATER AFTER Jason’s visit to the garage, Tyler’s phone buzzed in his pocket.
In his old life, his phone rang nonstop. These days it was mostly silent. Old friends avoided him like the plague, as if doing a stint in County was contagious. As if they were afraid they’d develop a sudden yearning to wear orange jumpsuits. As if they’d never been his friend at all.
Well, that was fine with Tyler. He didn’t need them. He knew who his friends were—strike that—who his friend, singular, was. One was more than enough.
Jason was more than a friend, he was like a brother. Tyler knew he’d do anything for him, and vice versa.
His phone buzzed again, and since he was in the middle of eating lunch, he pulled it out and checked to see who it was.
Jason.
“Jason, what’s up?”
“Mr. Martinez?” a woman’s voice said.
“Yes?”
“This is Jessica Ahearn at St. Vincent’s. There’s been an accident…” The woman explained she was a nurse, that Jason was in an accident and Tyler’s number was under ICE in his cellphone.
“Ice?” Tyler asked, because it was easier to ask a question than to have the nurse tell him things he didn’t want to hear.
“In case of emergency—ICE. Mr. Matthews’s car hit an embankment. He’s in surgery now.”
Tyler had barely processed the thought of Jason being in an accident when he remembered the baby. “Jace?”
“He’s in surgery,” she repeated.
“No, Jace. His son. A baby. Was he in the car?”
“Only Mr. Matthews was transported here, sir.”
“I need the names of the guys in the ambulance, or the police, or…” Jace’s sitter. He knew her name. He couldn’t think of it. He knew her name.
“Pam.”
“Pam?” the woman repeated.
“That’s the babysitter’s name. I’m going to call her. Could you check with the ambulance crew and call me back. I’m on my way.”
“Sure, I’ll do that, Mr. Martinez.”
“I’m in Whedon. I’ll be at the hospital in under a half hour.” Tyler had always thought the half hour distance between Erie and Whedon wasn’t bad, but suddenly it was too far. He needed to be there now.
“Mr. Martinez, he’ll be in surgery for hours. If I find out anything about the baby, I’ll call right away.”
“Thank you, Ms. Ahearn.”
Tyler hurried over to his coworker. “Lou, I need to leave early. It’s a family emergency. I’ll make up the hours, or you can dock my pay, or hell, fire me if you have to. I’ve got to go.”
The old guy had been decent to Tyler, so had everyone else at the garage, so it came as no surprise when he said, “Don’t talk crazy, kid. You go do what you have to. Can I do anything to help?”
“No. I’ll handle it. But I’m not sure when I’ll be back in.”
“Go do what you have to,” Lou repeated. “We’ll manage.”
Tyler ran to his car and tried to think as he headed toward the interstate. What the hell was Pam’s last name? He’d met the woman the few times he’d picked up the baby for Jason and Mellie before he’d gone to County.
No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t remember her last name. Why hadn’t he ever thought to get her name and number from Jason?
He decided to drive to her house and see if Jace was there, then he’d go to the hospital.
Shit, he had to call Jason’s mom and dad, too. They’d moved to Florida when they retired.
Heartsick, he called their number as he barreled down I-79 toward Erie and told them what little he knew. “I’ll call as soon as I talk to the doctors,” he promised.
“I’m making arrangements for the earliest flight I can get,” Jason’s father promised.
Neither of them asked the question that was hanging around like a white elephant in the room. What if Jace had been in the car with his father?
Tyler drove faster than he should have, but hopefully not fast enough to attract police attention. The last thing he needed was to be pulled over by the cops and questioned. He was still on parole, and while he didn’t think a speeding violation would send him back to jail, he wasn’t sure and he couldn’t afford to take the chance. He had to be there for Jason.
He drove slowly up the big hill and into the babysitter’s drive, praying that Jace was there. He felt sick to his stomach as he knocked on the door. Pam opened the door, Jace on her hip.
“I’m not sure you remember me—” he started.
She interrupted. “I definitely remember you, Mr. Martinez.” Her words were said with that certain tone that let him know exactly how she felt about criminals darkening her doorstep.
“Jason was in an accident and I didn’t have your number and was praying Jace was here.” He held his hand out to the baby. Pam hesitated a moment, then handed him over.
Tyler inhaled the scent of clean baby and had the first bit of relief he’d felt since the phone call from the nurse. “Jason’s in surgery and I need to be at the hospital. But I had to know Jace was safe first. Can you keep him?”
The woman’s expression softened. “I wish I could, Mr. Martinez, but we’re leaving town tonight and driving to Cleveland in order to catch our plane tomorrow. Jason knew I couldn’t watch Jace for the next two weeks. He said he’d made arrangements.”
“All right,” Tyler said, his mind racing as he tried to figure out what to do. “I know Jason told you I have permission to take Jace, so I’ll do that now and sort something out. Can you get his things?”
Minutes later, Pam brought over the baby’s diaper bag in his carseat and handed him a piece of paper. “That’s my cell number. I am sorry about Jason. Will you call me and let me know how he is?”
“I will,” he promised, juggling Jace, the carseat and diaper bag. What the hell should he do now? Rush to be with Jason? But he knew his friend would insist the baby was Tyler’s priority. He felt torn in two. He needed someone responsible. Someone he could trust to watch Jace.
Suddenly an image of Angelina Tucker flashed through his head. The day she’d introduced him to her son, the way they teased each other with such ease and comfort. As he finished strapping the baby’s carseat into his truck, he found himself heading toward the small auto shop on the outskirts of Whedon.
Angelina might tell him no, that she wasn’t watching the baby for him, but he had to try. She was pretty much his only option.
The short drive back to the garage seemed to take forever, but he finally arrived, parked the truck in front and juggled Jace and all his accouterments into the shop. “Tucker still here?” he asked.
Lou, North and Joe all eyed the baby, but none of them asked any questions. Lou nodded toward the paint room. “She’s in there.”
“Thanks.”
He opened the door, and unwilling to take the baby into the paint fumes, called in, “Angelina, can I see you a minute?”
She came out, wiping her hands on a rag and saying, “I thought Lou said you had some emergency.” She stopped as she saw the baby. “That’s a baby.”
“Yes. Can you watch him? I don’t know anyone else who knows anything about babies—not anyone I would trust him with. Will you do it?”

“YES, BUT—” WAS AS far as Tucker got. At the first word, Tyler thrust the towheaded baby into her hands and took off at a run, yelling behind him, “I’ll call you.”
“What’s his name?” she hollered.
He stopped, turned around and said, “Jace. He’s my godson. His father’s in the hospital.” And with that, he was gone.
It had been a very long time since Bart was anywhere near this small, but Tucker held the baby with surprising ease. Like riding a bike, it came back.
Lou, North and Joe poked their heads around the corner. “So what’s that all about?”
“Tyler’s the baby’s godfather, and the baby’s dad is in the hospital. I don’t know much more than that, other than the baby’s name is Jace. So for now, it looks like I have a baby. Would someone go clean up my mess in the paint room while I take Jace to the house?”
“Sure, Tuck,” Lou said, then nodded to North who bustled past her to the room. “He said there was a family emergency?”
Tucker shrugged. “I don’t know anything else. I’m sure he’ll explain later. Whatever’s going on, Tyler is shaken. For now, I’ll let you guys take care of the rest of the afternoon here and I’ll take the munchkin home, unless someone would like to trade off?”
Lou and Joe shook their heads and hurried back to their repairs. “Looks like it’s you and me, kid.”
She hauled everything across the lot to her house. It was a small ranch that still had most of the furniture she’d grown up with. She’d thought about updating the furnishings, but she liked the Ethan Allen hardwood pieces, and never felt anything more than a new couch was required. She’d bought a new one about four years ago, and it was oversized and covered in a brown micro material that was wearing like iron. She put the baby and his stuff on it.
He immediately began to wiggle and squirm. She helped him lower himself to the floor, and watched as he toddled off to explore her living room. She made a quick sweep of the room and possible dangers, but it looked pretty good to her, so she went back to the bag as she kept half an eye on Jace. “So, let’s see what we have in here.” There was one dirty romper, two diapers, some wipes, a half eaten plastic container of Cheerios, some powered toddler formula. “Well, I think first thing on our list is some shopping. This won’t last you long.”
Bart charged into the house, spotted her and the baby sitting on the floor looking through a magazine as if he could read. “What is that?”
“That is a baby.”
Bart’s expression said that he didn’t think his mother was as funny as she thought she was. “Yeah, Mom, I know it’s a baby, but whose baby is it?”
“That I don’t know. I do know he’s Tyler’s godson and there’s no one else to watch him because his dad’s in the hospital, so he’s in my care until Tyler gets back.”
Bart approached the baby and studied him as if studying some alien life-form.
Tucker realized how little interaction her son had with children. Since her friend Eli Keller had a son, then adopted a daughter, Bart had a bit more experience with little kids, but he’d grown up an only child and had never dealt with a baby for more than the occasional dinner at Eli’s in-laws, the Kellers. When Eli joined the family, the Kellers promptly enveloped Tucker, Bart and her dad, too. Tucker had coined the term Kellerized to explain the way the family informally adopted people.
“He’s sort of cute,” Bart finally said.
“He’s also almost out of diapers and given that he has teeth, he’s probably in need of some solid food, as well as more formula. This might have lasted him at the sitter’s, but there’s no telling how long we’ll have him, so we should have more. I need to do some power-shopping for him. Wanna come with?”
Bart still warily eyed the baby. “He looks like he’s going to cry.”
“He probably needs his diaper changed and a quick bottle. Then we’ll all go get the essentials.”
Bart frowned. “Shopping and a baby. You do know how to show me a good time, Mom.”
Tucker chuckled and she stripped the baby down. “That’s a mother’s job, kid.”

TWO HOURS LATER, BART was on the floor rolling a truck for Jace, who laughed out loud each time Bart said, “Zoom.”
Tucker had gone to the store planning to buy the essentials, but in the end, had bought some toys and books as well. Watching Bart with Jace, she didn’t regret the added expense. Both the boys were having fun. Bart would have made a great big brother. She felt a not unfamiliar spurt of guilt for her son’s unconventional upbringing. He’d been born to a teen mother, and had only had the minimal contact with his biological father. She’d never married, and though she dated on occasion, she had a strict policy of never allowing Bart to meet any of the men. At first because she feared a revolving group of men would be confusing to him, and later because that’s how it had always been.
Tucker was enjoying the Bart and Jace show when her cell phone rang. A number she didn’t recognize showed up on the caller ID. “Hello?”
“Tucker, it’s me, Tyler.”
“How are you?”
“I’m fine. It’s Jace’s father. It doesn’t look good.” Tyler’s voice broke as he said the words. “I’ll try to be there as soon—”
“Don’t be an ass. Stay with your friend. I can handle the baby.”
“I couldn’t—”
“Unless something’s changed since you dropped him off with me, you not only can, you sort of have to. I’ve been a mother my entire adult life. I have exactly two skills in this life—cars and kids. I’ll watch Jace for as long as you need me to. Stay with your friend.”
“But I don’t even know if Jace has enough stuff. I just took what the sitter handed me. I should have thought—”
Tucker cut him off. “I took care of it already. Don’t worry about Jace. Worry about the kid’s father. Call if you need anything else.” She disconnected before he could argue.
“Is he coming?” Bart asked.
Tucker shook her head. “It’s Jace’s dad. I don’t have all the particulars, but for now, he’s ours.”
Bart rolled the truck toward Jace, who giggled. “He’s not so bad.”
She looked at her son, no longer a boy, but a man. In a few months, he’d take off for college. She wasn’t sure what she’d do without him. She’d been younger than he was now when she’d had him. It had always been the two of them. The two of them and her dad. And the guys at the shop. Now, her dad was retiring and Bart was off to start his own life. Where did that leave her?
“Mom, you have that sort of spacey, sappy look on your face. Again,” Bart added for emphasis. “You’re thinking about me leaving home.”
“No, I wasn’t,” she denied. “I was thinking about how I’m going to get Werner’s car ready. He was coming by first thing in the morning for it, and Tyler was the one working on it.”
“I could watch the runt while you go finish it,” Bart offered. “Which was, by the way, I know what you were hoping I’d say.”
Tucker chuckled. “You are a smart boy. I shouldn’t be long, but I hate to have a customer show up for a car that’s not ready. And there’s an added benefit of you watching a kid and finding out it’s not a cake-walk—”
Bart’s groaned interrupted her. “Seriously, you’re going to turn me helping you out by watching this kid into some teen-parent-prevention lesson?”
Tucker laughed. “An inventive parent works with the opportunities life gives them.”
“You’re wacked, Mom, but that’s one lesson you’ve driven home without me watching the baby.” He made a shooing motion. “So, get, I’ve got it, Mom. I’ll call if me and the kid have problems.”
She started to the door, then turned back. “You’ve got his toys, his food and the new books.”
“You bought out half the store. We’ve got plenty. Go.”
“Fine. I’ll hurry.”
Tucker wasted no time climbing under the car that was still waiting for Tyler. She was sure the other guys would have finished it. One of them would have come back tonight, or come in early tomorrow if she asked, but she wanted to do it. It wasn’t much, but it made her feel as if she was doing something for Tyler. Something tangible.
When he’d been a customer and asked her out, he’d had an aura of self-confidence. He believed the world was his oyster and even her rejections couldn’t dent his self-image. That Tyler Martinez had known he had the world in the palms of his hands, and it didn’t seem to occur to him that his belief in that basic fact could change.
This new Tyler seemed to be getting kicked over and over again. He’d lost his career and his good name when he went to jail. And remembering his expression when he showed up with the baby, he was terrified he was going to lose his friend.
Well, she couldn’t do anything to help his friend, or get his old life back for him, but she could watch Jace and she could damn well fix this car.
It wasn’t much, but it would have to be enough.
She started checking where Tyler had left off with the Werners’ car.
She knew Bart would call if he had problems.
She smiled because he’d caught on to her master plan. Taking care of a baby was a better life lesson than any of her lectures could be. Kids were hard work. Maybe watching Jace would help Bart remember that when he went off to college.
She decided that taking her time on the car was not such a bad idea after all, because being a grandmother in her thirties was definitely not on her list of future plans.
Of course, she wasn’t quite sure what those were, but she trusted that eventually she’d figure it out.

THREE DAYS LATER, Tyler dragged himself out of his truck and onto Angelina’s porch. He rang the doorbell and waited.
She’d been amazing, and he wasn’t sure why. She’d not only kept Jace, but with the help of her father and son, she’d juggled the baby’s care with work. She assured him that it was fine, that she knew he needed to be with his friend.
She hadn’t pushed him for explanations on his friendship with Jason. She hadn’t asked him for anything.
Tyler had spent the last three days waiting for Jason to wake up, but his friend had slowly gone from bad to worse. When Jason’s parents had arrived from their retirement community in Florida, Tyler had felt stretched almost beyond his limits as he tried to support them. Jason was their only son and they were crushed.
When the end came, it had been swift. There was no fanfare. No final moments with poignant words. One minute, Jason had been breathing—still clinging to life. The next minute he simply stopped—stopped breathing, stopped living. Mrs. Matthews had totally fallen apart. It was all he could do to help Mr. Matthews get her to Jason’s house where they were staying. Her grief was tangible.
Tyler pushed his own pain aside. The Matthews had done so much for him. He’d do what he had to in order to support them. Later, he’d grieve on his own.
He told them he’d bring the baby over later in the day and that he’d help them plan Jason’s funeral.
Tyler realized he hadn’t felt the full impact of Mellie’s death because he’d been in prison. Jason had called and told him when she’d died, but there hadn’t been anything Tyler could do. She wasn’t a blood relation, so there wasn’t even a possibility of being released for her funeral. He’d suffered through the loss on his own.
This time, he wasn’t alone. He’d thought it would hurt less if he was with others who shared his pain, but watching people he loved suffering made it hurt more.
He waited at Angelina’s door, pushing down his hurt.
The door flew open. “Tyler?”
“He’s gone. Jason’s dead.” It was the first time he’d said the words out loud and they struck him. “He’s gone.”
Angelina reached out, grabbed his hand and tugged him inside. “I’m so sorry, Tyler. What can I do?”
Angelina’s warm reaction didn’t exactly surprise him, but it didn’t mean he understood it, either. “I came to get Jace.” His mind was muddled; he accepted her concern, but he knew he couldn’t impose on Angelina any further.
Rather than go get the baby, she asked, “When’s the last time you slept or ate?”
“What day is it?” he asked.
“Saturday.”
The days had blurred together and he didn’t have a clue. “I don’t know.”
“You can crash in my room and I’ll take care of him for a little while longer. He’s a good kid.”
“Angel, I can’t—”
He thought of her as Angelina, or Angel. Back when he’d had the world in his hand, he’d called her that, but everything had changed since then. He knew he should call her Tucker, like everyone else, but she didn’t notice, or simply didn’t correct his slipup as she interrupted him. “You’re right. You can’t do much of anything until you get some sleep and some food. In that order.” She led him down the hall. “And a shower.”
She sniffed the air. “Maybe the shower first.”
“I—”
She led him to her room and gave him a gentle push inside. “The bathroom’s right through that door. There are clean towels in the cupboard. Take a shower, then go to bed, Tyler. We’ll figure it all out when you get up.”
He was too exhausted to argue. He took a shower and used the shampoo that was out. It smelled flowery. It smelled like Angelina. Until now, he’d never noticed that despite her work clothes, she’d always smelled very feminine.
He wrapped a clean towel around his waist, went into her room and climbed in Angelina Tucker’s bed. The last thing his foggy brain registered is that the bed smelled flowery, too.
It smelled like Angelina.
That thought comforted him as he fell asleep.

TUCKER WAITED A HALF hour, then tiptoed into the bathroom through the hall door and picked up Tyler’s clothes. She planned on washing them while he slept. She couldn’t swear to it, but she was pretty sure the jeans and tight black t-shirt were the same ones he’d had on three days ago when he’d brought her Jace. The door to the bedroom was cracked and she saw Tyler sprawled on her bed.
A towel was still wrapped around his hips, but his chest and legs were bare. She felt something stirring, something that hadn’t stirred for a very long time.
It wasn’t that she was immune to men. It was simply that she didn’t have a lot of opportunity to meet men. She lived her life in a man’s world, but it sometimes felt as if there were no men she could, or would, be interested in. And when she did meet a man, she frequently couldn’t get rid of them quick enough. It wasn’t that some weren’t nice—they were. It was simply that fitting anything more than an occasional date into her busy life didn’t work for her. She wasn’t interested in long-term. She’d have thought that would make her their dream woman. But it seemed to do the opposite. The more she said she wasn’t interested, the more they pursued her.
Instantly, she realized she was ogling a man who’d lost a friend and was obviously devastated. She felt ashamed and rushed from the room, tossed his clothes in the washer and went to see if Jace was awake yet.
She found him sitting in the portable baby crib she’d bought.
“Hi, little man. Let’s go get some breakfast.”
Taking care of the baby was enough of a distraction that she could ignore the fact there was a half-naked man in her bed.
Well, not ignore, but almost ignore.
She was not going to think about the fact that she’d thought Tyler Martinez looked very good in a tight black t-shirt, and now she’d discovered he looked even better out of it.

CHAPTER THREE
TYLER WOKE UP DISORIENTED.
Where was he?
It was the scent that finally triggered his memory. He was in Angelina Tucker’s bed. On the heels of that realization came another—Jason was dead. He needed to get the baby and go check on Jason’s parents.
Tyler found his clothes in a neat pile in the bathroom. They’d obviously been laundered.
He added that to the long list of things Angelina had done for him as he dressed.
He went looking for his benefactor and found her in the living room on the floor stacking blocks with Jace. He stood in the doorway, mesmerized by the sight. She’d stack a small tower and Jace would whack it over, then laugh hysterically as she’d sputter, “Why you…” and rebuild it, only to have it toppled again.
She spotted him and smiled. “You woke up.”
“I did and found some clean clothes. Thank you.”
She seemed flustered by his gratitude and shrugged. “It was self-preservation. They practically walked to the washer and begged to be cleaned.” She grew serious. “I’m sorry about your friend.”
“Thank you. He was more than a friend…” Tyler stopped, not sure how to describe his relationship with Jason and his parents. There was the family he’d been born into, such as they were, and then there were the Matthews, the family he’d chosen…or rather the family who’d chosen him.
“Your friend’s got a great kid. I figured Jace’s parents were pretty special. I’m sorry he’s lost his father.”
“Mellie, his mom, is gone, too. Jace only has his grandparents left.”
“I’m sorry for that, too.” Tucker shook her head. “But you’re wrong. He has you.”
Jace deserved better than him. Lucky for the kid he had Jason’s parents, who were the best. They were two of the most decent people he’d ever known. “His grandparents will take care of him. Speaking of which, I need to take him to them. We’ve got to make the funeral arrangements.” He paused. “About work…?”
“Don’t worry. Dad cleared your absence with your parole officer, and your job is waiting for you after the funeral. Will you call me with the details?”
Her question brought him up short. “Why?”
Tucker shook her head, sending her short curls flying. “So we can come and show our respect.”
“You didn’t know him.” She’d never even met Jason or his parents, so he didn’t understand.
“No, but we know you. You work for us. We want to be there for you. That’s what friends do.” Her expression didn’t brook any arguments.
Tyler hadn’t understood Angelina back when he’d asked her out and she’d said no, despite the fact he was pretty sure she wanted to say yes. He didn’t think he was being conceited when he thought she was as attracted to him as he was to her. He understood her even less now. He simply said, “Thanks.” He leaned down to the baby. “Hey, Jace.”
Jace immediately held up his hands to be lifted.
“He’s not shy about what he wants.” Angelina laughed as Tyler picked up the baby. “Bart has begun referring to us as Jace’s minions. He’s got everyone at the shop totally under his thumb.”
“I don’t know how to thank you both. To thank everyone at the shop for picking up the slack for me.”
“Like I said, helping out—that’s what we do. You should have seen him with North. North’s got a Star Trek phaser app on his phone and was thrilled that Jace thought it was as cool as he did. The rest of us simply mock it, but Jace and North played with that thing for more than a half hour. I’m afraid that first it’s going to be phaser apps on a phone, and next thing you know, North will be taking Jace to ComicCon, or DragonCon.”
Jason had been a huge science fiction buff who’d kept trying to tempt Tyler into joining him by giving him books or DVDs to watch. Tyler realized that his friend would never again rave about how brilliant Buffy the Vampire Slayer was, or threaten to give him a Star Wars ringtone.
He noticed Angelina was still talking. “…and Lou and my dad took turns playing honorary grandpa with him. They were talking about taking him fishing. I put a stop to that. I figured I’d fail as babysitter if I let him become fish-bait. But I’m sure they’ll be asking to borrow him sometime. They used to take Bart.”
Tyler didn’t know what to say. He was an ex-con, but no one at Tucker’s garage seemed to notice. They simply accepted him as one of their own. “Angel, I—”
“Tucker, remember, Ace?” She smiled as she said the words.
Without thinking, Tyler leaned down and kissed her. It started out as a quick buss on the cheek, but she turned her head, and his lips were on hers. It was a tender kiss of friendship that quickly turned into something more. Something Tucker actively participated in and then abruptly pulled back from, looking flustered. He didn’t wait for her to holler at him, he simply took the baby and walked to where he’d spotted Jace’s carseat.
“Don’t forget his diaper bag,” Tucker said, following after him, bag in hand.
He started toward his truck.
“Thanks. I seem to be thanking you a lot.”
“We look out for each other. No thanks expected.”
He knew she meant that—she didn’t require or expect gratitude. She didn’t even recognize how extraordinary that was.
He looked at the small woman in her holey jeans and a t-shirt that had a motorcycle on it and read Ride It Like You Stole It. Her hair was a mass of crazy curls and she didn’t have a bit of makeup on. All that being said, she was beautiful and everything in him wanted nothing more than to kiss her again.
But he didn’t. He felt guilty for wanting to. After all, his best friend was dead. How could he be thinking about women when Jace was gone? It said something about him, he admitted as they agreed to switch vehicles and fished his truck key out of his pocket for Tucker. “I’ll call later on.”
“Okay.” She stood in front of him for a minute, as if weighing something in her head, then moved swiftly and kissed his cheek.
Before he could do or say something that would totally unman himself, Tyler got in Angelina’s black Pilot and headed back into Erie, where Jason’s parents were waiting.
He glanced at the baby in the rearview mirror. Jace was chortling a string of noncoherent syllables to himself, happy and content. Tyler caught the word Da, and felt choked up. He remembered the day Jason had called him to tell him Mellie was pregnant. The baby didn’t know he’d lost everything.
But Tyler did and his heart ached for him. For Jason’s parents.
And, though it made him feel small to think it, for himself.
Jason Matthews stood up for Tyler and stood by Tyler. Jason had given him the closest thing to a family that he was ever going to have.
And now he was gone.
Tyler felt totally alone, but then he remembered Angelina’s simple assurance that they were there for him.
The thought warmed him and helped him feel as if he was able to get through these next few days. He had to bury his friend, then he had to say goodbye to his godson when the Matthews took the baby back to Florida with them.
But he wasn’t totally alone.
And Tyler Martinez was a man who recognized how much that was worth.
It was worth everything.

TUCKER WALKED INTO THE Kloecker Funeral Home along with her father, Lou, Joe and North. The place was filled with people who’d grouped together sharing tears and stories of the deceased. She spotted a man and woman who had to be Jason’s parents. The woman held a cane in one hand, and Jace in the other. They were surrounded by people offering their sympathies. Tyler was nowhere to be seen. She scanned the crowds and finally spotted him in a corner, standing by himself. His expression unreadable. His posture was ramrod stiff, and his fists were clenched at his side as he stared out the window.
Rather than get in the line of people waiting to pay their respects with her father and the guys, she walked over to Tyler. “How’re you doing?” She heard the words come out of her mouth and wished she could suck them back in. “Sorry. Dumb question.”
Tyler offered her a weak smile. “I’m as okay as I can be.”
“Why are you hiding back here?” She noticed that people kept glancing at them, and cut Tyler a wide berth, as if he had something contagious.
“Not hiding, simply staying out of the way.” His voice was tight, contained. Too controlled.
“Come with me.” She took his hand and pulled him toward the door. People parted as they approached. She saw her dad send her a questioning look, but she shook her head and trusted he knew that she meant she had it under control. She continued leading Tyler until they were far enough outside the funeral home, at the far end of the parking lot. No one could overhear.
“Spill.”
“I’m fine,” Tyler repeated.
“Ty, we both work on cars and we know that systems need to be vented, or else the pressure builds until it blows up. Your pressure’s building. Vent.” He still didn’t say anything, so she pressed. “Jason was a friend. I never saw you two together, but it’s obvious you were a good friend to him. So why is everyone in there treating you like you have leprosy?”
Tyler sighed. “Those people are former colleagues. And it seems that they don’t take kindly to ex-cons who went away for embezzling from their firm.”
“Did you do it?” She wasn’t sure why she’d asked, but once the words were out of her mouth, she very much wanted to hear Tyler’s answer.
Rather than answer, he simply said, “What?”
“Did you do it? You said you went to prison for it, but you didn’t say you did it. There’s a difference. I caught it.”
“You’re the first person to ask me that question.”
“So, did you do it?” She wasn’t sure why she was so sure, but she was. There was more to the story than Tyler simply embezzling money from his firm. He’d had money. At least enough money for high-end cars and suits and such. So why?
His jaws clenched. “I’m not going to talk about it.”
“Fine. Then talk about Jason. How long did you know him?”
“We grew up together. Not in the same neighborhood, but we went to the same school. I was in high school and the first day our freshman year, our science teacher partnered us. Jason was lost when it came to science, so I helped him. I was behind in English, so he helped me. We were both horrible at French, but we met this girl, Mellie DeDioniso and she got us both through four years of that. All I remember about French is how to ask if you have a friend in French class, and truly that’s not the most useful phrase.” He smiled at the thought of some long forgotten memory.
Tucker saw his stance ease and his clenched fists ease into a more natural position.
“The three of us were friends. But our junior year, Mellie and Jason started dating. But them becoming a couple didn’t cut me out. It was always the three of us. And when things got rougher my senior year, I moved in with the Matthews. Jason shared his parents with me. You don’t know…” His voice cracked and he paused.
“I don’t know, but I’m here, willing to listen when you’re ready to tell me about Mellie and Jason, or about how you went to jail. I’m here.” She took his hand. “And as for those butt-munches in there, you’re better than all of them.”
“I can’t talk anymore.”
“Yeah, I get that, too. So, come on, we’re going back in. You’ve got friends. You’re not alone.”
“Angel, you don’t understand.”
“But I will someday. It doesn’t have to be today. Unless you want to tell me more?”
He shook his head.
“Then I’ll wait. For now. Come on.”
As they started back into the funeral home, Bart came across the parking lot. “Sorry, Tyler. I’d’ve been here sooner, but my ride from school had detention and I had to scramble to find someone else who’d drive me into Erie.”
Tucker put her arm around her son. “Come on, let’s get Tyler back into his family. They’re going to need him.”
She led him back into the funeral home, and glared at all the people who parted for them. She glanced at her father and the guys from the shop and she knew if something happened to her, they’d be the first ones there to support her. If she was accused of a crime, they wouldn’t believe it. And if she told them she’d done it, they’d be the first ones trying to defend her.
She walked past her dad and friends, past the line of people to the front where Jason’s mother and father stood. Jace spotted her and squirmed to get down, then toddled his way like a drunken sailor in her direction. “Hey, munchkin,” she murmured, scooping him up.
“Tyler. There you are,” Mrs. Matthews said. “Come stand with us. You know most of Jason’s friends. We don’t.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Matthews, I’m Tucker. A friend of Tyler’s. I never had a chance to meet your son, but knowing who he chose to spend his time with, well, I have no doubt that not knowing him is my loss. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Oh, you’re the woman who kept Jace for us. I don’t know how to thank you, dear. Tyler said he was taken care of, and knowing that—not having to worry about him—was a comfort. Thank you.” The grey-haired woman swept Tucker into a hug. “We’re lucky our Tyler has a friend like you.”
Tucker didn’t know what to do or say, so she settled for, “Why don’t I take Jace with me and let Tyler look after you for a while.”
Mrs. Matthews eyed her grandson who was happily plucking at Tucker’s hair, playing with the curls.
“Thank you.”
Mr. Matthews extended his hand, and shook hers, repeating his wife’s words.
With the baby in her arms, she sidestepped the grieving family and moved in front of the casket. This was Jason Matthews. Tyler’s friend. Jace’s father. She’d never met the man, but she felt a wave of sadness at his passing. He was loved. That was as good a legacy as anyone could leave. He was loved and he was missed.
She bowed her head, offered a prayer for this man who’d been such a good friend to Tyler, then took the baby to the back of the room. Jace squirmed, indicating he wanted down, and the second his foot touched the ground, he made a beeline back through the crowd to her father, Bart and the guys from the shop. He babbled and giggled, and was quickly picked up and passed from one man to another.
Tucker watched the scene and realized she was tearing up, which was ridiculous. But she looked over at Tyler. Mrs. Matthews was standing between him and her husband, one arm around each man, clinging to them as if they were a lifeline. Tyler stood stoic at her side as one after another, people approached and paid their condolences to Jason’s parents and practically ignored the fact Tyler was even there. He seemed to accept their reactions as his due, which bothered her even more.
And that’s when she did cry. She blinked furiously to hold back the tears, but one escaped anyway, and she brushed it from her cheek.

TYLER DIDN’T KNOW HOW he was going to repay Angelina. She’d stayed at the funeral home all evening, supposedly to help with Jace, while in reality he was pretty sure she was watching out for him.
At least half a dozen times she appeared at his side like some tiny watchdog and took his hand, smiling at people who used to be his friends and forcing them to acknowledge he existed. He’d have preferred living in anonymity, but her staunch defense was so genuinely offered, he couldn’t say anything.
So, when she’d say, “Oh, did you work with Tyler and Jason? It’s very kind of you to come out to pay your respects to Jason, and show your support of Tyler. Losing a friend is hard,” he’d accept his former colleague’s handshake and condolences.
She’d taken the baby home with her, and left him to get Jason’s parents home. He drove them back to Jason’s house, where they were staying.
“Tyler, could you come in for a few minutes? I’d like to talk to you?”
“Sure, Mr. Matthews.”
They went inside the small brick house that still bore Mellie’s touch in every nook and cranny. Tyler had hung the rustic chandelier in the entryway with Jason. He smiled as he remembered Mellie calling out instructions about how long to make the chain it hung from. He’d helped them paint the whole house. He’d referred to the burnt orange color in the study as poop colored, but Mellie had told him he’d love it when it was done, and truth was, he did. It gave the office that Mr. Matthews led him into after he’d sent Mrs. Matthews up to bed a warm feeling.
Warmth.
That’s what Mellie had brought to the house. Now, with both her and Jason gone, it felt hollow.
“I need to talk to you about what happens after the funeral tomorrow.”
“You know, whatever I can do…” Tyler started.
Mr. Matthews nodded. “I do. Jason told us what you did for him, and why. I don’t know what to say, Tyler.”
Tyler knew that Mr. Matthews was talking about more than Tyler helping with Jace and his stomach clenched. “He shouldn’t have told you.”
“He wanted us to know before he went to the district attorney and confessed. I don’t know why Jason didn’t come to us—”
“Or me,” Tyler said. “I’d have sold everything…”
“Us, too. He told me he knew that, but Mellie didn’t have the time it would take to liquidate assets. He needed to get her into the experimental treatment right away and thought he had time to pay back the account before anyone noticed. He’d have never let you take the fall if Mellie hadn’t been so sick.”
Tyler felt sick that Jason’s parents knew. He never planned to tell them, or anyone.
“Mr. Matthews, I don’t want you to think Jason simply let me confess. When the company thought it was me, I took the blame so they wouldn’t investigate further. He wanted to admit it right then, but I told him that would be selfish. Mellie needed him.” Tyler choked up, remembering how hard he’d fought to keep Jason from going to the cops immediately. “He’s gone now, so that’s over. And I’m not sorry that no one will ever know he did it. I want Jace to grow up with a name to be proud of. Jason would never have borrowed that money if he wasn’t so desperate to save Mellie. Hell, if he’d asked me, I’d have embezzled the money for him,” Tyler assured Jason’s father, hoping to put his guilty expression to rest.
“No, you wouldn’t have,” Mr. Matthews said. “You’d have found some other way, but you wouldn’t have embezzled the money. And I have to believe that Jason wouldn’t have done so either, if he’d been thinking straight. When he started thinking clearly, he did the right thing and I support that decision. It can’t negate what you went through for him, but it was a step in making it right.”
“Mr. Matthews, like I said, Jason wanted to confess as soon as the company realized the money was missing. I talked him out of it. I made him let me take the fall. It was clear Mellie wouldn’t have long and he needed to be there with her and with Jace.”
They’d diagnosed Mellie’s cancer while she was still pregnant. The doctors told her it was aggressive, that she should abort the pregnancy they’d worked so hard to achieve and begin treatment immediately, but she’d refused. She’d called her baby a miracle, and she held out hope for a second miracle. After the baby was born, her second miracle never materialized. It was too late for Mellie.
Tyler couldn’t allow Jason to confess to the crime and go through the legalities and ultimately prison, if not for Jason’s sake, for Mellie’s. And for Jace. He didn’t want his godson growing up embarrassed by his father. He wanted Jace to know he was Jason Emerich Matthews, Jr. and that was something to be proud of.
“I understand why my son did what he did. I understand his desperation. But we both know, he had other options. What you did…” Jason’s father’s voice broke.
He was quiet a moment as he pulled himself together then said, “It seems so unfair to ask more of you, but Tyler, we can’t take Jace. Marge is finally getting back on her feet after the first hip replacement and they’re starting to talk about the second surgery. I know she thinks we can, but we can’t. My son had been working to clear your name, and he wrote a new will to ensure that if he hadn’t managed to pay you back the money you were fined, his estate would. While he was drawing up all those legal papers, he wrote a new will and named you the baby’s guardian.”
Tyler had thought Mr. Matthews had asked him in to talk about the funeral tomorrow, or maybe packing up Jason’s house and selling it, but not this. Not taking Jace permanently. “I can’t take Jace, Mr. Matthews.”
“I don’t have any right to ask you. You’ve already done so much for our family. But we can’t handle him. We were almost forty when we had Jason. We’d long since given up trying to have kids. Then he came along, a gift. We were old to be raising a child, but we were thrilled. And though he was an only child, he brought you home and we had two sons. I love Jace, so does Marge, but we’re too old to be the parents that he needs. I know Jason had no right to expect you to raise his son, that we have no right to ask you, but we can’t do it and there’s no one else in the world that we’d trust with our grandson.”

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