Axel: Single Daddy Shifters #1 Page 3
But the Stevensons did have money. Maybe Grandma Stevenson was buying a brand-new BMW. He couldn’t fault her for it. They were wonderful machines.
He made a mental note to take a look at it when he was done working on the ancient Saab that was waiting for him in the bay.
He sighed and headed over. Saabs were great cars, but you had to remove half the engine just to change a spark plug. He’d been babying this thing for a family in town for years.
He rolled up his sleeves and popped the hood.
And although he didn’t mean for it to happen, he found himself wondering what Delilah was up to, and picturing her holding Noah and looking around her little room.
4
Delilah
Delilah sat on the floor next to Noah’s bedroom door.
She wasn’t exactly sure how long naps were supposed to take, but she was pretty sure it wouldn’t be good for the baby to wake up alone.
From her cozy spot, she could see down the stairs to the front door. And straight ahead of her, the door to her own room stood open.
My own room…
She’d never really had a room she thought of as her own.
Growing up, she and her mom had moved around almost constantly. And her adult life had her scrambling to get out of dodge at the end of every con.
She knew it wasn’t really hers, but there was something so peaceful about the little room with the pretty view. She felt she could stay here happily for quite some time.
If only the real nanny weren’t coming soon.
And if she hadn’t left the BMW at the shop.
She cursed herself inwardly yet again. Axel seemed like a good man. It wasn’t right to have mixed him up in this.
And yet, she wasn’t sure what else she could have done.
The con had been a good one - a simple variation on the fiddle game, but played with a flute, since it was the least expensive instrument available at the local pawnshop.
It was supposed to be easy.
Delilah went into the restaurant wearing simple clothing, carrying the flute in a bag, as if she were a subway musician. When her bill came, she was supposed to freak out and say she had forgotten her wallet. Then she would offer to leave her flute, which was her livelihood, as collateral while she ran back to her apartment for her money.
While she was away, a second con artist, pretending to be another diner, would examine the flute and say it was a priceless Verne Q. Powell from the 1939 World’s Fair. She would say it was exquisite and that she would pay two hundred thousand dollars for it.
Of course Delilah made sure to have the Powell name engraved on the instrument after purchasing it for twenty-five dollars at the pawn shop, so the suggestion would seem to check out.
The other con artist would say she had to leave for an important appointment, but would leave her card for the flute’s owner to call her on her return.
A few minutes after she left, Delilah would return with her wallet.
This was where the mark was supposed to make his move. And the whole con relied on his greed, which is why it always worked.
The mark was supposed to hold onto the card and offer to buy the violin, but for substantially less than the other con artist had said it was worth - thus leaving himself plenty of “profit” when he called the number on the card to resell the instrument.
Then Delilah would take his money and the number on the card would be out of service when he called.
Things did go well, until the point when Delilah returned to the restaurant with her wallet.
The mark offered to buy the violin for a thousand dollars.
She negotiated her way up to two thousand, then accompanied him to an ATM where he tried to withdraw the funds while she hung back, not wanting to be caught on camera.
But he wasn’t able to pull out more than a few hundred dollars from the ATM at once and the bank was closed.
He looked downcast for a moment, then brightened.
“I’ll give you my car as collateral,” he said, pointing to the BMW, which was the reason they’d targeted him in the first place.
It was a few years old, but beautifully kept. They’d figured a guy who drove a car like that would be able to come up with a couple thousand bucks no problem.
“Your car?” she’d asked, still pretending to be a poor street musician.
“Sure,” he said. “It’s after business hours but we can come back to the bank in the morning. I’ll hold onto the flute and you can take the car, for peace of mind.”
She thought it out quickly.
No way could she leave the guy alone overnight with the flute without him realizing it was a con. He’d only have to do the tiniest amount of online research to realize he’d been conned.
But the parts alone on the car were worth more than two grand to the fencer her team worked with. She could take the car and be gone before morning.
“Fine,” she said.
He gave her the keys.
“Any chance you can give me a ride though?” he asked. “I’m late for my shift.”
“Sure,” she’d told him.
She’d been horrified when he asked her to drop him off at a chain restaurant where he explained that he worked as a bus boy.
“How did you afford a car like this?” she asked.
“Oh, it’s my uncle’s, but he lets me drive it sometimes,” he said. “See you tomorrow.”
She’d sat in the car a long time after dropping him off, then called her partners to tell them she was going to leave the keys on the seat and get out of there.
Delilah knew what she was, and she was not a good person. She stole things for a living.
But she never stole from someone who couldn’t afford to be robbed.
And this man clearly couldn’t.
If she ditched the job now, they were out less than fifty bucks for the flute and the engraving. It was no big deal.
But when she’d called her partners, they hadn’t seen it that way. They told her the two grand was on her, one way or the other. And they weren’t the type of people to overlook a debt.
She didn’t know what else to do. So she drove away in the BMW.
Only instead of bringing the car to the fence, she kept right on driving.
She hoped that if she ditched the car at an auto shop that it would be returned to the owner as soon as he reported it stolen.
All she had to do was get on the right side of her partners again. They would be mad, but they would forgive her. She was sure of it. As long as she found some way to make it up to them.
As if on cue, her phone vibrated in her pocket, snapping her back into the present.
She leapt up and padded down the hall to her room, not wanting to wake the baby.
She glanced at the phone before picking up.
The Barracuda
“Hey,” she muttered.
“Where the fuck are you?” her partner shrilled. “Where’s the car?”
“I’m not giving the car to the fence,” Delilah said calmly.
“Just because you went soft doesn’t mean you don’t owe us our cut,” the woman on the other end hissed.
“Us?” Delilah asked. “It was me and you - no one else worked on this.”
“Hank helped set up the plan,” the woman said.
“The plan was the oldest con in the book,” Delilah said, allowing her voice to get a little louder. “Hank didn’t invent it.”
“He found the mark,” her partner pointed out.
“Yeah and he didn’t do his homework,” Delilah said. “The guy’s a busboy and that car belongs to his uncle. We’re not taking it.”
“Newsflash, kid, you already took it,” the woman sneered.
“Well, he’s getting it back,” Delilah said, gritting her teeth.
“I’m putting Hank on,” her partner said coldly.
“No, don’t do that—” Delilah began.
“You have forty-eight hours to get us our cut,” Hank’s voice said i
nto the receiver. “I’m not going easy on you. Forty-eight hours, kid, or I will find you, and you will be sorry.”
Delilah closed her eyes and leaned against the wall.
She had just put herself on the line to save a busboy who was willing to scam her out of what he thought was a two-hundred-thousand-dollar flute.
“I can’t get you the BMW, I don’t have it anymore,” she admitted. “But I’ll find you another car.”
“I don’t care what you get. Get something. I want my cut,” the Barracuda yelled in the background.
“Forty-eight hours,” Hank repeated and hung up.
Her heart pounded and she looked around, wondering how she had managed to feel so safe here just a few minutes ago.
“Think, Delilah, think, think, think,” she whispered to herself, pacing the hallway.
The town looked wealthy enough. Surely there was another quick con she could pull here.
As if on cue, there was a soft cry from Noah’s room.
“Hey baby,” she called to him. “I’m coming.”
She burst into the room, noticing the sweet scent and the colorful alphabet painted painstakingly on the wall even as she rushed to the crib.
Noah’s little face was pink and squeezed up.
“Here we are,” she cooed instinctively as she considered how best to scoop him up. She knew moms on TV somehow supported the head of a small baby.
He quieted as soon as he saw her leaning over him and blinked up at her with those wide, denim blue eyes.
She found it surprisingly easy to slide her hands under him and tuck him snugly into her chest once again.
He wrapped a chubby fist around a hank of her hair while making a sound that was kind of like a door squeaking open.
“Hi,” she replied. “That’s better, isn’t it?”
He felt heavier than before, his bottom was mushy.
“Oh wow, you have a full diaper,” she said, her mind racing. Could it be that different from changing a doll diaper? And when had she last done that?
She saw a changing table in the corner and laid him down carefully.
He launched into a long conversation that mostly sounded like babababababbababa as she struggled with all the tiny snaps on his outfit.
The diaper was only wet, and she thanked her lucky stars that she would learn to change a diaper without poop involved.
“Please don’t pee on me,” she asked him.
“Babababababa,” he replied, and then shoved his small fist into his mouth like a cork, stopping the flow of conversation.
It was the best assurance she was going to get.
Somehow, she managed to get another diaper onto him, and the many tiny snaps snapped properly. Although she was glad she didn’t have an audience, because she certainly hadn’t looked like the pro she was supposed to be.
“We did it,” she crowed as she lifted him up again. “Let’s go see your daddy.”
If she was being honest, Noah wasn’t the only one looking forward to seeing the man again.
5
Delilah
The walk to the shop was a quick one. Delilah hoped she could find a subtle way to ask about feeding the baby.
She opened the door and the little bell above it jingled merrily.
The place smelled safe and familiar, like the attached garage of her great-grandfather’s little house. She remembered a few happy mornings watching him tinker on his car when she had stayed with him as a small child, before her mom took her back out into the whirlwind of a life they shared.
“Hey there,” Axel’s deep voice boomed.
“Um, hi,” Delilah replied. “Noah woke up and we missed you.”
Her cheeks flushed.
“That is, he missed you,” she corrected herself.
A head of curly auburn hair popped up from under the hood of a small gray car. Its owner eyed her suspiciously.
“That was a short nap,” he said.
“Bill, this is Delilah, she’ll be taking care of Noah,” Axel said quickly. “Delilah, this is Bill. He’s my apprentice.”
“Did you change him when he woke up?” Bill asked.
“Of course,” Delilah said.
“Did you feed him?”
“Enough, Bill,” Axel chuckled. “Bill helped out with Noah for a few days before you got here, and now he’s an expert in all things Noah.”
“Actually, I didn’t feed him,” Delilah admitted.
“I’ll take care of it.” Bill sighed dramatically and marched into the back room.
“Don’t let him bother you,” Axel said with a wink. “I think he likes taking care of Noah more than he likes fixing cars.”
Delilah smiled back at him, feeling relieved.
He really was handsome. It was hard not to melt just a little in his steel-blue gaze.
“So what are the two of you planning to do this afternoon?” Axel asked, clearing his throat.
“Oh, um, I wasn’t sure,” she said.
“He likes to go for a walk,” Axel suggested. “If you want to take him shopping for whatever you want for dinner that would be amazing.”
“Sure,” she said.
He dug in his pocket and handed her a wad of bills. “Get whatever you want.”
Nice.
“The agency said you were a great cook,” Axel continued. “I’m looking forward to it.”
Oh crap.
Delilah wasn’t a great cook. She wasn’t even a good cook.
She honestly couldn’t remember the last time she’d operated a stove.
“Let me have him,” Bill said as he reentered the room with a blanket and a bottle, saving her from having to respond.
Axel nodded.
Delilah watched intently as Bill sat, draped a blanket over his chest and held out his arms for her to hand Noah to him.
He settled the baby in the crook of his arm and offered him the bottle.
Noah began drinking right away.
So feeding him would be fairly easy. If only she’d been able to watch Bill prepare the formula.
“The stroller’s over there if you want to set it up while you’re waiting,” Axel said, pointing to the corner.
Sure enough, a stroller leaned against the wall of the waiting area.
She could make out the wheels, but the thing was folded up like a piece of origami.
Delilah approached it as if it were a wild animal. She ran a hand down one side and then the other, hoping she didn’t look as confused about the way it opened as she felt.
“Here, let me show you,” Axel said. “These things are so complicated.
He took a few minutes to show her how to open it up and fold it back.
As she watched, she couldn’t help but notice again how handsome he was, muscles flexing with every movement.
And he was nice too - really nice. He could have made her feel bad about not knowing how to open the stroller, but he hadn’t.
She figured he must really love Noah to buy him such a complicated stroller. Since he spent his days working on vehicles, it made sense that he would appreciate a good one for his baby.
After one bungled attempt, she was able to repeat the steps pretty easily.
“Thanks,” she said.
“Make sure you get yourself a coffee while you’re in town,” Axel recommended. “There’s a great spot - cheesy name, but good coffee - it’s called Edible Complex. It’s next to the train station.”
“Thanks,” she said. “Do you have a key to the house for me? I need to lock up before we go.”
His eyebrows went up.
“Uh, I think I may have one around,” he said. “But honestly I’m not a hundred percent sure they work. I don’t really lock the doors except at night.”
What an idiot. Who didn’t lock their doors?
She tried her best not to look shocked.
“Okay, he’s all set,” Bill said, saving her yet again from having to reply. “I burped him too, so he should be cheerful for a while.”
“Easy does it, little guy,” Axel said, taking him from Bill.
He showed Delilah how to strap the baby in. There was a cozy built-in sleeping bag looking thing to keep Noah warm, and there were straps to keep him safe.
“Hey, do we need to return this to Joe Crow?” Bill yelled to Axel.
He was pointing in the direction of a beautifully restored classic Mustang. The paint was so glossy it looked wet.
“Nah, there’s no rush,” Axel said. “He’s got like ten of those in his garage - he won’t miss it.”
Delilah’s mouth dropped open.
A mint-condition Mustang like that was probably worth thirty thousand dollars or more.
Someone in this town had ten of them in his garage, and wouldn’t miss one?
“Delilah, if you need anything at all while you’re in town you can just tell the store employee you’re Noah’s caregiver and they’ll let you use the phone,” Axel said, handing her a business card with the shop’s number on it.
“Thanks,” she said breathlessly. “Are you ready, Noah?”
Noah made a happy yelping noise.
“I guess that’s our cue,” she said.
Axel opened the door for them, and she pushed the stroller out into the sunlight.
The gravel parking area was a little bumpy, but the stroller was well-built, and Noah didn’t complain.
She managed to make it out of sight of the shop before she reached for her phone and thumbed the contact for the Barracuda.
She picked up on the first ring.
“I’ve got something for you,” Delilah said. “A restored classic Mustang.”
“Sounds old,” the woman said dubiously.
“It is,” Delilah said. “Probably a sixty-seven or sixty-eight, which means in this condition it’s worth way more than that used BMW.”
“Where is it?” her partner demanded immediately.
Delilah gave her the address and explained the situation. Leaving out the parts about how her room made her feel like she was home, and Axel’s smile made her feel like she might not ever leave.