Roll With the Punches Read online

  “Do they have kids?”

  “No. Two dogs, which she’s also taking. They’ll ride in her car with her. Please? I’ll pay for your meals and—”

  “Let me talk to someone real fast, and then call you back.” He didn’t lie to her and specifically say he was going to ask his boss if he could take the time off, although if she made that assumption, he wouldn’t correct her.

  He would have to clear this with Brandon, though. Just as a matter of courtesy, not even as a D/s dynamic kind of thing. Although he couldn’t imagine Brandon saying no, he couldn’t go.

  “Okay, thanks.”

  He ended the call and immediately called Brandon. Today, Brandon had to drive to Ft. Myers, to one of the bulk warehouse stores in his district that he managed. He’d still be driving.

  He answered on the second ring. “Yeesss?”

  “Hey, Sir. I need to talk to you.” He quickly laid out the issue to him and then waited.

  Either Brandon would or wouldn’t okay it. He wouldn’t argue with him if the answer was no, however.

  His Sir’s word was law, as far as Jeff was concerned. And Brandon had never been an asshole.

  “I can’t go with you this weekend, and neither can Stuart,” Brandon said. “I have to supervise an inventory down in Ft. Myers on Friday, and Stuart’s covering for another guy out with a new baby.”

  “I know, Sir.”

  “Do you feel this will be safe?”

  “Calvin’s not the kind of guy who will take shit from anyone. I think between the two of us, if the guy shows up, we’ll be okay. But the plan is to get out of there before he comes back and avoid that happening in the first place.”

  “As long as you promise to be safe, then I don’t see any reason to say no. But thank you for asking me and not just assuming.”

  “I wouldn’t assume. Especially not about something like this.”

  “Good boy. Keep me posted on the details.”

  Jeff’s cock stirred. He couldn’t help it. Every time Brandon called him his good boy, it had that effect on him. “I will.”

  When he called Iris back, she answered on the first ring. “Well?”

  “I can go. What information do you need from me to book the tickets?”

  By the time he reached the car dealership he worked for and parked in the employee lot, Iris had already confirmed their tickets and e-mailed him the information.

  Apparently, the husband would be flying back on Monday, meaning they’d be out of there long before he returned. And since Sylvie had found evidence the guy was meeting one of his girlfriends out in California, where the seminar was being held, she doubted he’d cancel his plans at the last minute, business trip or not. Being it was California, no chance of him just happening to stop back home to “check in.”

  Sylvie had already talked to an attorney and started things on her end. He would file the paperwork for her on Monday. She’d also be taking half the money from their joint bank accounts before her husband would have a chance to move it or withdraw it himself.

  According to Iris, this had been a plan more than two months in the making, simply waiting for an opportunity to schedule it. Sylvie had also been putting on an act for her husband to make him complacent and think she wasn’t going to do anything to leave him. She’d threatened to leave him once before, and he’d told her he’d burn down the house with the dogs in it if she did.

  That was why she needed to leave the state. She had family in Florida, but she was estranged from them due to her husband’s actions over the years. Iris hoped that with Sylvie back in Florida, she might be able to repair those relationships.

  Plus her husband was lazy. It was doubtful he’d come after her in Florida, especially when he had girlfriends on the side he could simply latch on to, move one of them into the house, and whine to them about his horrible wife.

  This should be an interesting weekend.

  At least Brandon’s ex-wife had settled down somewhat. Tracey was making hit-and-miss efforts to mend her relationship with Emma. But Emma still hated her stepfather, Pat, and Pat’s thirteen-year-old son, Corey.

  AKA “the Goober.”

  Things could always be worse.

  He headed inside to see what interesting problems would await him in the service bay.

  Chapter Two

  Brandon still hadn’t reached work yet when his cell phone rang again.

  Tracey.

  Groaning, he initially debated whether or not to send it to voice mail when he decided delaying the inevitable wasn’t worth it and answered.

  “Yeah?”

  “Hi, Brandon.” Her tone sounded subdued, non-snarky.

  In other words, totally not like Tracey had sounded over the past couple of years when talking to him.

  He opted to keep an open mind and be the bigger person. “What’s up?”

  “I wanted to know if you thought it’d be okay for Emma to come visit this weekend?”

  “That’s up to her. You’ll have to ask her yourself.”

  “She’s not answering my calls.”

  That was news to Brandon. Emma normally told him when her mom tried to contact her. Not that he required Emma to tell him, but she usually volunteered it. Last he’d heard, Emma was slowly regaining her trust in Tracey.

  “I thought you two were okay. What happened?”

  Tracey let out a sigh he could hear on his end of the line. “I made the mistake Friday of asking if she’d be okay if we had Corey at the house the next time she spent the night.”

  He groaned. “I could have told you that was stupid.” He belatedly realized how that sounded, but Tracey didn’t ding him for it.

  “I know, I know. Pat was pushing me to ask.”

  Another point he decided not to bust her balls over at that moment. “I’ll ask Em to call you, but I make no promises. I won’t order her to call you or order her to visit you.”

  “Do you have any advice for me on how to fix this?”

  That pulled him up short. Tracey? Actually asking him for advice dealing with Emma?

  Maybe she’s dying.

  He didn’t even think that snarkily, but with genuine concern. “Are you okay?”

  “I miss her living here. I…I want to try to fix this.”

  Getting in the middle of this would only bring bad things. This he knew with a certainty, from prior disasters. As long as Tracey was married to Pat and still giving his opinions weight over Emma’s well-being, there would be no full reconciliation between her and Emma.

  “Well, for starters, no way will she live with you again if you’re married to Pat. She’s flat-out said that. That’s her decision, not mine. Secondly, do not push her to spend time with Corey. Maybe try taking time off from work and making some of her swim meets for a change. Alone. No Pat, no Corey.” To the best of his recollection, Tracey had never made one of Emma’s swim meets, usually using work or exhaustion as her excuse.

  He suspected the true reason was Pat badgering her in some fashion.

  “When’s her next one?”

  “She’s got a small one Wednesday afternoon at four. At the pool her team trains at. It’s not a sanctioned meet, more a practice competition between three local high schools ahead of the big meet she’s got Saturday morning. If you take an active interest in what she does for a change, it might help.”

  Sure, it was a low blow. But after the way Tracey had sided with Pat against Emma about the stupid religious retreat cruise they’d tricked Emma into going on, Brandon could no longer back his ex-wife’s parental role.

  In front of Emma he’d try to stay neutral, sure.

  Tracey had burned up the last of his goodwill when it came to her. Which had been a considerable amount, considering how guilty he felt having to divorce her in the first place.

  To her credit, Tracey didn’t snipe back at him. “Okay. I should be able to make the one on Wednesday. I have to work Saturday morning, though. I can’t make that one.” Then she crossed the line. “Corey
’s not a bad kid, he just has…issues.”

  Aaannnd we’re done. “Nope, not buying what you’re selling. He tried to take hidden video of our daughter. You do not get to side with that little shit over Emma. Not without it biting you in the ass. If he was six, maybe. He’s going to be fourteen in a few months, so he knew damned well what he was doing. I still stand by my statement that if he tries anything like that again, Emma has orders to call 911 and then me, in that order. And I will make sure charges are pressed. That means he’ll likely end up on a sex offender registry. I will not have him doing something to ruin her life.”

  Tracey was silent for so long he wondered if she’d hung up on him. “I understand,” she quietly said.

  Well, that’s progress. “Anything else?”

  “No. I’ll see you Wednesday.”

  “Okey dokey. Laters.” He hung up on her without waiting to see if she had anything else to say.

  Tracey’s in-laws were rabidly religious Christian Scientists, to an obsessive level.

  They also had a lot of money.

  Pat had tried to worm his way into their good graces by forcing Emma to go with him, Tracey, Corey, and his parents on the religious retreat…on a boat. Tracey and Pat had lied to Emma and told her it was a family building retreat, leaving out the religious part of it.

  And on the basis of Pat’s parents’ religion, they’d forbidden Brandon’s secular and extremely prone to seasickness daughter the over-the-counter motion sickness meds Brandon had purchased for her.

  The predictable results being that Emma had spent the weekend sick, and had spectacularly—and deliberately—puked all over Tracey’s mother-in-law in front of a dining room full of passengers.

  After eating two bowls of red Jell-O.

  Then, due to Emma being dehydrated from puking all weekend, the ship’s nurse had requested the captain call the Coast Guard to airlift Emma to the hospital.

  None of this was relayed to Brandon until after the fact, when they’d returned home and Tracey had called Brandon to come get Emma after Emma had told Tracey she wanted to live with Brandon.

  That was when Emma came to live with him full-time, coincidentally on the same weekend he’d first met Jeff and Stuart and started dating them.

  Pat and Tracey did not have a lot of money. Pat worked as an assistant manager at a fast-food restaurant, and had been stuck in that same position for years. Tracey’s job as an office manager at a grocery store chain also didn’t pay very well. From what Brandon had garnered from Emma, Pat was always trying to scheme ways to finagle money out of his parents, usually by using her or Corey as an excuse.

  Brandon had no sympathy and gave zero fucks about either Pat or Tracey, in that respect. Brandon had taken his high school education and a job as a stock clerk for a bulk warehouse chain, and worked his way up to district manager of the same chain, in charge of several locations in southwest Florida, all while also getting his college degree, and later raising his daughter as a single dad when she was with him. That, on top of buying a short-sale house and renovating it.

  Pat was fourteen years older than Brandon, and far worse off in life, with no inclination to improve himself or better himself through hard work. Tracey had apparently let him drag her down to his level.

  At least Emma inherited my drive to succeed.

  * * * *

  Emma texted Brandon during her lunch period.

  Why is Mom so eager to talk to me?

  He groaned. He wasn’t going to lie for Tracey or do her dirty work for her.

  She called me this morning. I told her to start taking an actual interest in you. She might come to your swim meet Wednesday.

  Ugh.

  Brandon sympathized. Why didn’t you tell me you’d stopped talking to her again?

  Because it was just a couple of days ago. She brought up Corey and I thought giving her the silent treatment for a while would give her a hint. Carrot meet stick, like you taught me.

  He chuckled at that. Totally Emma. Sorry, but she’ll probably keep trying. At least she is trying.

  I don’t trust HER. Or Pat.

  Again, he couldn’t blame her. Then tell her that. I thought you two were starting to fix things between you?

  We were, until she said she wished I would give Corey another chance. She blew it. Again. Do I have to call her?

  Totally your decision. I told you that.

  I’ll think about it. I’ll text you when I get home. Can Grace come home with me today? We need to study.

  If her parents say yes.

  They did. Thanks. Love you.

  Brandon smiled. Somehow, he’d lucked out and she hadn’t turned on him yet.

  Or maybe Tracey’s antics had given Emma a litmus test when comparing Brandon to Tracey.

  Love you, too. See you when I get home.

  Grace didn’t drive yet. She was three months younger than Emma and had just turned sixteen, but her eyesight was bad due to her being born prematurely. Plus being a very thin and frail-looking five two, she could barely see over the steering wheel and reach the pedals. Compared to Emma’s five seven and strong, lithely muscled swimmer’s build, Grace appeared tiny and fragile.

  Grace still felt very nervous when behind the wheel during driving lessons, and wasn’t eager to get her full license yet. So either Brandon, her parents, or Emma drove Grace around. Well, and Jeff and Stuart now, since Grace’s parents had met them and signed off on it.

  In fact, the five of them—and the two girls—frequently had family dinner nights together. He’d wondered at first if Grace’s parents would have a problem with their blended poly family, but they hadn’t.

  What Grace lacked in physicality, she more than made up for with her brain and personality. Sweet, wicked smart, and with an incredibly funny and snarky sense of humor, she usually had all of them cracking up at the dinner table.

  Brandon, Jeff, and Stuart had already sworn to Grace’s father to help him put a serious hurting on any boy who broke Grace’s heart, but so far, like Emma, she seemed dedicated to her studies when the two girls weren’t doing stuff together.

  * * * *

  It was a little after one in the afternoon, and Jeff had just finished working on his latest vehicle when his cell phone rang from its resting place on top of his toolbox.

  Emma’s custom tone.

  That was extremely unusual. She never called him at work. He peeled off his work glove to answer it. “Hey, kiddo. What’s up?”

  “You know how you said you were going to teach me how to change a tire on my car?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Can we do that right now? We came out to drive home after class, and I’ve got a flat.”

  The dealership he worked at was only ten minutes from her school. He could be there a lot faster than making her call AAA and waiting for them, and both Stuart and Brandon were much farther away.

  “Sure, honey. Give me a few minutes and I’ll be right over.”

  When he arrived, the student parking lot was almost completely empty, making it easy to find the girls. To Emma’s credit, she’d already removed the spare, jack, and tire iron from the trunk, and had them lying on the ground next to the front driver’s side tire.

  “Did you feel anything this morning when you drove it? Was the steering wheel pulling or pulsing or anything?”

  “A little, but only on the way to swimming. After swimming, it was rush hour traffic, and the pool’s only a couple of minutes from here. I barely got up to thirty then.”

  He really didn’t have time to let her change the tire herself with his supervision, so he did it for her. Ten minutes later, he had the donut on, lug nuts tightened, and her tire in the back of his truck. He’d take it to the dealership and fix the leak, a roofing nail that had gotten embedded in it.

  “There you go. I’ll put this one back on when I get home.”

  Despite him being all sweaty and dirty from work, Emma still threw her arms around him to hug him. “Thank you! I love you.”<
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  He kissed the top of her head. “Love you, too, kiddo. Send me a text when you get home so I know you made it.”

  “I will.”

  He got into the truck and followed them out of the parking lot, turning the opposite way to return to work. It took him less than ten minutes to fix the tire, and he was able to fit one more repair job into his day before knocking off for the evening to head home.

  When he arrived, he parked in his usual spot and went to go get Emma’s keys from her so he could change the tire. When he opened the door, a delicious aroma hit him.

  “Wow, what’s for dinner?”

  “I made your favorite meatloaf.” She and Grace were busy in the kitchen.

  “Thanks, but how’d I get so lucky?”

  “For rescuing us this afternoon. We really appreciate it.”

  “I need your keys so I can swap the tire.”

  “Can I help? I want to learn how to do it.”

  “Sure.”

  Both she and Grace followed him outside. Grace watched while Jeff talked Emma through the process. She had a little trouble loosening the lug nuts, but once he showed her how to stand on the tire iron handle to break them loose, she was able to get them.

  After the tire was replaced, he’d double-checked that the lug nuts were tight enough, and the spare, jack, and tire iron were stowed in the trunk, he offered her a high-five.

  “Good job, kiddo.”

  “Wait’ll Dad hears about this,” she said.

  “You didn’t tell him yet?”

  “I didn’t want to bug him since you were able to help us.”

  “Eh, shoot him a text, please. I know it’s fine, but it’s a courtesy.”

  “I will.”

  He headed inside to shower and change, his stomach growling from the delicious aroma of meatloaf. Emma was a damn good cook, for sure. Grace, too. Plenty of times that summer the three men had arrived home to find the girls had prepared them a nearly gourmet feast as they experimented in the kitchen.