Virgie started to push the point about Carl, but let it go. “You don’t have to do all this. I won’t starve if you don’t bring over food. Get out. Live your life. Date, for god’s sake. You want to be old and alone?” Empty words. Even if having to take care of her mother had obstructed her life, her mother would still need taking care of so there was no use examining it too closely.

“I’m not any more interested in this discussion than I am the one about Uncle Carl.” Carmella tried hard not to be offended or hurt that her mother actually believed she could get by without other people constantly cleaning up after her.

She usually failed, but it was a work in progress.

“At least tell me you’re not a lesbian.”

Carmella stood, bending to kiss her mom’s cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t forget. I’m calling you before I leave.”

“You never answer when I ask you,” Virgie said, unbelieving that anyone would simply think the question was stupid and irrelevant.

Carmella could mollify her by giving an answer, but she wasn’t going to.

“I only ask because I care.” Virgie’s tone was wistful. Carmella realized her mother was high on meds and on the verge of melancholy. Another thing to bring up with the doctor.

“I love you. Don’t forget to eat.”

Even as she drove away, the guilt pulled at Carmella. The niggling idea that if she lived with her mom, things could be better for Virgie. It wouldn’t be enough. Nothing Carmella could do would ever be enough. So she’d help but from a distance, from her own house.

*     *     *

The shop was already buzzing by the time Carmella found herself making the third pot of coffee in the break room. She didn’t have to do it. No one expected her to. But it got her up out of her seat and walking around and she often strolled through the shop on her way back to see what people were working on.

It was really an excuse to look at shiny machines and peek at Duke and quite often it included doughnuts as well so there was no problem with that as far as she was concerned.

She hadn’t been at work since they’d slept together. Well, since they’d fucked three times was a more accurate way to say it, she supposed. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but Monday at Twisted Steel was pretty much the same as every other day.

As she neared the door, Asa rolled in with an empty mug and a searching look.

When he saw she had just made a pot he grinned her way and looked far less scary and much sweeter. “You’re my favorite person today.”

“They go with the doughnuts PJ brought in a few minutes ago,” Carmella said.

“Just one of the many reasons I keep that woman around.”

That and Carmella figured PJ was the only one capable of keeping a guy like him in line.

“Morning, Ms. Rossi. How are you today?” Duke asked as he sidled next to her as she was leaving to head back to her office.

“I tracked down that crankshaft you said you thought the shop had ordered. Seven months ago, actually. You paid in advance.” Carmella frowned. It hadn’t been a cheap part. They’d prepaid and then no one had bothered to push past the bullshit to get to the person who could make something happen.

“How’d you manage that? They claimed we never ordered it so we tracked it down elsewhere. Damned big chains,” Duke said.

“I’m revamping and organizing the filing.” Lottie might have been able to make sense of that hamster’s nest of paper shoved in drawers, but if that crankshaft situation wasn’t a rarity, they were losing a lot of money just from sloppy record-keeping.

Duke stood very close. Close enough she could smell his skin. Just under the cotton of his shirt she’d marked his back. He’d made her come so hard, she’d dug her nails in. He seemed to find it sexy, but Carmella was still a little embarrassed about it. Not more than she was aroused knowing they were there.

She made herself stop thinking about coming and focus on answering his earlier question. “I found some notes. It’s a long, boring story. Do you want me to get our money back or the part sent?” Carmella asked as she headed for her desk.

“First tell me what they told you when you informed them you had proof of payment,” Duke said, leaning a hip against the counter before continuing. “Because if they were assholes, I want the money back. Also, they dicked me around when I called so I’m dying to know how they took it when they were proven wrong.”

They had been dicks, though probably less so because Carmella had dealt with crap like that from people for so long it didn’t even faze her anymore. She didn’t take it personally that they had asked for proof of payment. But it had been pretty delightful when she’d been able to slap back after being given the runaround for nearly a week.

Carmella smirked. “After I sent over everything I had, including a timeline of what happened to their fax machine every day, twice a day—along with e-mails—I was finally able to connect with the correct person. They had a fax machine so they deserve to have me send them all that paper. Who has a fax machine anymore? Anyway, when I was finished with him, I was offered overnight shipping of the part this week, or a refund. I said I’d get back to them because obviously we had to get the part elsewhere at significant cost.”

“It was only twenty bucks more, I think.” Duke’s pleasure was all over him. Carmella loved to look at him when he was in a good mood. He seemed to give off waves of calm.