All or Nothing

By Barbara Sheridan

A marriage of "Inconvenience"

 

What Roberta "Bobbie" Richardson wants is a mechanic to help her take on more repair jobs to keep the family auto repair business alive. What she gets is incredibly sexy Justin Hastings, her first love, the man who unceremoniously dumped her over a decade ago.

 

Recently retired from the Marine Corps, Justin offers to retake his old mechanic's job and also offers to help Roberta snare a lucrative repair contract with an old friend. In return, he asks Bobbie to enter a marriage of convenience to help gain permanent custody of his motherless daughter who has been living with his wealthy, politically connected ex mother-in-law.

 

Marriage? To Bobbie that only conjures up images of a Been There, Not Doing That Again t-shirt. Their prior history aside, Bobbie knows Justin would be a great dad.

 

All she has to do is make sure this business arrangement doesn't take any personal turns.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Barbara Sheridan
• Release date: Oct 22, 2023
• ISBN: 9798224868025

Book preview

Chapter 1

Roberta Richardson had left the big doors of her auto repair shop open so many times while working late, she hadn’t given it a second thought tonight. It never occurred to her some hairy beast might skulk out of the nearby woods and come inside, but one did. She could hear his footsteps approaching on the concrete floor.

Hey, Bobbie, what’s shaking?

Justin Hastings’ deep voice echoed through the quiet garage. Roberta lost her grip on the rusty bolt that had been getting the better of her for the last half hour.

Aren’t you even going to say hello for old time’s sake?

Roberta ignored him. She was going to get this alternator out of here, and the big ape trespassing on her property would just have to wait until she was done. Which at this rate would be sometime next Tuesday.

I know it’s you, Bobbie. I’d recognize that butt anywhere.

Justin smacked her ass with his large hand, but it took a few seconds for the action to register in her brain. Once it did, she straightened, striking her head on the truck’s hood. She shrieked and jumped down from the tire. The pain spreading across the back of her head added fuel to the fire that was igniting within her

Want me to kiss it and make it better? Justin teased. His topaz blue eyes shimmered with merriment in the glare of the shop light fastened to the sport utility vehicle’s hood.

Resisting the urge to shove her wrench in a very private part of Justin Hastings’ anatomy, Roberta dropped the tool. She took an orange rag from the rear pocket of her grimy twill work pants and wiped the grease from her hands while studying the man before her.

He was only three inches taller than her five-foot-ten-inch frame, but gave the impression of being much larger. He carried himself with a commanding air of self-confidence that seemed to have increased with the passing years. Her gaze drifted from Justin’s tanned face and sun streaked brown hair, to the broad shoulders filling his black sport coat. Without meaning to, she let her eyes slide down, taking in the stance which emphasized his powerful thighs and trim hips encased in khaki trousers. She returned her gaze to his face, not missing the few wisps of curling brown hair visible at the open collar of his shirt.

At least one of us cleans up well.

This was definitely the same snarky Justin Hastings who’d ripped her heart to shreds all those years ago.

So, Roberta tucked the rag back into her rear pocket, the proverbial bad penny turns up again.

Ha, ha, Justin said flatly, before leaning against the old Blazer’s door. Your jokes are the same as ever, and so is your boyish figure, he added, looking her over from head to toe, as she’d done to him.

Roberta grumbled and turned back to her truck’s engine. Jerk. He’d always been attracted to top heavy airheads.

Justin chuckled and squeezed in beside her. You’re sure burning the midnight oil. What’s the problem with the beast?

Refusing to acknowledge her amusement that he remembered the nickname he’d given the truck, she said, The alternator won’t come out, and I need to replace it.

Justin removed his jacket, set it across the bottom edge of the door’s opened window, and rolled up his shirt sleeves. Roberta bent to pick up her wrench. He took it from her and nudged her with his elbow. Let a pro do it.

I am a pro.

He laughed. Loudly. Twenty bucks says I can have it fixed in half an hour, max.

It was Roberta’s turn to laugh. You’re on. She grabbed Justin’s taut bicep, dropping her hand immediately. Let me see your money first.

He pulled out his wallet and opened it. Satisfied? As she nodded, Justin returned his wallet to his rear pocket. Where’s yours?

In my purse.

Justin laughed again. The way that sexy grin of his still tickled her insides grated on her last nerve.

"You carry a purse?"

Roberta grumbled. She was no longer seventeen, and he couldn’t get to her unless she let him. Yes, I carry a purse. I am a woman, you know.

Could’ve fooled me, Justin remarked, turning back toward the black and silver truck.

Fix it in fifteen minutes or the bet’s off.

Justin turned. Fifteen minutes?

You chicken, Hastings?

Was I ever? He set the alarm on his wristwatch, removed it, slipped it over the blade of the SUV’s windshield wiper then began.

Roberta smiled to herself as the garage filled with the sounds of clanking metal and frustrated grunts. Those rusty bolts weren’t coming loose, not even with the extra shot of WD-40 Hastings gave them.

When the hand on the large round wall clock neared the ten minute mark, Roberta turned away, confident Justin would soon return to the rock he’d crawled out from under.

She’d gotten as far as the office at the rear of the garage when the deep voice boomed out to her.

Done. Where’s my money?

Roberta spun around and stalked back to her truck, her hands on her slender hips. You can’t be done. I’ve been trying to get that thing out of there for almost an hour, and I couldn’t do it.

"No, you couldn’t. Justin extended his hand. Pay up."

Roberta batted his hand away and looked for herself. He had gotten the old alternator out, the new one installed, and tightened both the radiator and power steering hoses in the bargain. He’d just put her to shame, and she was the best mechanic in Centre County, Pennsylvania.

Justin cleared his throat. I believe we had a twenty dollar bet.

Slapping his outstretched palm, Roberta silently called him a filthy name and reminded herself once again—he couldn’t get under her skin, unless she let him.

Justin followed her to the office. He clucked his tongue at the clutter then plopped down on the edge of her desk like he owned the place. Roberta wadded up a twenty dollar bill and threw it at him.

You won. Now get lost. She slammed her desk drawer shut. I’m closing up.

Not so fast. Justin gestured for her to sit in her chair.

She remained standing, her arms crossed in front of her.

I need a favor, Bobbie. I was supposed to stay at Dale Courtland’s, but when I got there Sharon said he’d been called out of town. I didn’t feel right about being there alone with his wife. I need a place to sleep until I can get to the realtor’s office tomorrow morning to pick up the keys to Aunt Maddie’s house.

Roberta stared blankly. He wouldn’t dare. Not after all this time. If you think you’re inviting yourself into my bed, you’re crazy, she snapped. Justin frowned, his eyes darkened to sapphire, and she didn’t know whether to be relieved or offended.

I was thinking I could crash here on the couch. The couch is under all that crud, isn’t it? He gestured to the repair manuals and pizza boxes in danger of tumbling to the dirty floor.

Roberta rolled her eyes. Once a neat freak, always a neat freak. Stay if you have to, but it’s just one night.

That’s what I said. Justin stood. He followed her into the garage. I don’t know why you’re being such a pain in the ass. You do owe me a favor as I recall.

Roberta made a dismissive gesture before pulling open the door of her truck. Since when do I owe you a favor?

Justin shut the door after she climbed in. Since the night I saved you from being the laughingstock of Oak Mills High School.

Yeah, right, Roberta mumbled. She turned the ignition key. Her old truck roared to life instantly. She forced herself to ignore Justin Hastings’ self-satisfied grin and the physical effect it had on her. Don’t forget to lock the bay door.

As soon as I bring my car in. Thanks, Bobbie.

She pulled out of the garage without replying.

* * *

Justin shook his head as he watched her speed down the dark street at the edge of town. She was the same exasperating Bobbie Richardson he’d known since the day he’d first stepped into the garage owned by her late father, Andy. Justin hadn’t really known his own father, who’d been killed in the Gulf War, and he’d taken an instant liking to the dad of the bossy girl in the schoolyard who’d fixed the wobbly wheel on his bicycle. He’d begun hanging around the repair shop in middle school, straightening up, running errands, and learning mechanics along the way.

He’d literally lived here at times during his turbulent teenaged years when his mother began dating an Army colonel. When they married and moved to Germany, Justin remained behind in Oak Mills, in the custody of his paternal aunt, Madeline.

And hovering in the background, always getting underfoot, was that bossy girl, Bobbie Richardson.

Justin smiled to himself as he parked his restored Mercedes in the garage. Bobbie had been raised by her widowed father and spent her formative years right here, also learning the business from the ground up. To Justin, she’d been the stereotypical tomboy and annoying little brother rolled into one. She’d followed him around the garage like an adoring puppy until he reached adolescence. When he told her to find herself a real friend, she’d found Tony Rizzo, the younger brother of his own close friend, Dominic.

Poor Dom had been saddled with Tony while their parents worked at the family restaurant and Roberta was only too happy to tag along with the rest of their gang. She’d even gone so far as to play high school sports—on the boys’ teams. During the games was about the only time Justin could get away from the little hellion. Two years younger than him, she’d been picked for junior varsity, although she’d done her damnedest to make the varsity squad. She might have succeeded if he, Dom, and Dale Courtland hadn’t sabotaged her tryouts—to preserve their own privacy and sanity.

Bobbie Richardson was one of a kind, and as he pulled down and locked the garage’s overhead door, Justin wondered if she would be willing to help him out of a jam.

If anyone had the balls to help him hang tough against his she-dragon ex-mother-in-law, it was Bobbie. Of course, judging from the icy reception, getting her to marry him ASAP would take some time.

Unfortunately, time was not on his side.

Chapter 2

Roberta drove out of Oak Mills. She hit the winding country roads, barely aware of the heavy metal music coming from her truck’s ancient cassette player. Why had Justin come back to town after all this time? To sell his aunt’s house? The place wasn’t actively on the market, but maybe he’d changed his mind and found a buyer on his own.

Roberta’s heart sank at the thought of strangers living there. That big Victorian on Fairmont Street was like an extension of her own house. She’d spent many afternoons in the kitchen eating homemade cookies. When she could get to them before Justin did.

If he was planning to sell the house then why had he come back?

To torment her? Not likely, though she felt tormented just the same. Simply hearing his voice and seeing his face made her feel like a lovestruck teenager all over again. It was not a feeling she liked. Not only was it humiliating, but it reminded her of the biggest mistake she’d ever made—getting married.

Unlike anyone before him, Roger Clemments made Roberta feel special, totally feminine, something other than one of the guys. That stupid romantic fantasy hadn’t lasted, although she’d hung on for five long years. She’d been willing to forgive his adultery, but when he’d stolen from her, nearly bankrupting the business her parents had sacrificed so much to maintain, she’d thrown him out, vowing never to be used again.

Clutching the steering wheel, Roberta sped up on the deserted back road, let the anger dissipate, then drove back toward home, never expecting that more painful memories would arise in the ranch house where she’d grown up.

After disposing of the dead mouse gift her cat had deposited on her pillow, she searched the top of the closet for a spare and found an old silver framed photograph. It had been taken at her Senior Prom, the night Justin Hastings had indeed saved her from becoming the laughingstock of Oak Mills High School.

She hadn’t been very keen on dressing up and fancy parties, but yearned to experience this one rite of passage. She’d loathed the way her female classmates spent every spare moment after Christmas planning for the prom, casting snide glances her way.

She wasn’t dating, but neither was her friend, Tony Rizzo, so she’d naturally assumed they’d attend this school function together as they’d done many others. She damn near died when he told her on the day of the prom he was going with the homecoming queen, who’d gotten into a fight with her boyfriend the night before.

It’s not like we had a formal date or anything, right? Tony said. And it’s not every day Rhonda Flanagen asks a guy out.

Roberta had been crushed, knowing Queen Rhonda and her friends would have a field day if she showed up at the prom alone. She was going to forget the whole thing, but to her surprise, her father insisted she go.

I advanced you the allowance money for a fancy dress and tickets. I won’t have it wasted. I’m working late, but I’m sure Justin can drive you to the gym.

When the doorbell rang at six o’clock, Roberta considered not answering. The prom wouldn’t start for two hours, and knowing Justin, he probably planned on dumping her on the school steps just so he could get to a hot date with this week’s babe du jour.

She pulled open the door, planning to tell him to shove off but her breath caught in her throat. Justin Hastings stood tall on her front porch, dressed in a fitted black tux and carrying a corsage which matched her yellow dress perfectly. What are you doing here?

He stepped inside; his gaze scanned her from head to toe. Twice. "I know I’m early, but I thought we’d get something to eat. I made reservations at La Normande, over in Bellefont."

Roberta’s spirit had soared, but then it began to fall. You don’t have to do this. I know my dad put you up to it.

"I haven’t seen your dad. I didn’t make it to work today because Aunt Maddie’s arthritis