Chapter Eleven
The overhead bells signalled my arrival into the motel office before I could even utter a word, but I hadn’t missed a strongly worded growl and a frustrated sound from the owner. At least I knew it wasn’t directed at me, but whatever he was leaning over.
“Hey,” I managed to say after closing the door. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, fine.” He glanced casually at the clock on the wall. “That was a quick rest.”
It was. I tried lying down but I wasn’t sleepy. Sure, my head was slightly foggy, but it had finally stopped throbbing. “Couldn’t sleep. Too much on my mind.”
“I’m a good listener, if that helps.”
“I’ll be okay, but thanks. What are you working on?”
There was a small, hand-sized motor sitting atop a sheet of metal with a half-moon cut out of it.
“Do you know what tools are?”
My eyebrows jumped into my hairline, and I mock-gasped. “Yes, why wouldn’t I?”
“You just seem like the type to not get her hands dirty.” He connected with me. “I’ve seen you at the Coffee Loft. If a drop of milk hits the top of your hand, you wash it off immediately.”
“I happen to like clean hands.”
“Exactly my point.” His gaze fell to his own, and I followed suit. His hands were dirty, dark, and greasy. “How about you pass me a five-eighths socket then?”
“No problem.” I wasn’t too sure what a socket was, but it had to be something with a bit of depth—the word had sock in it, so perhaps he meant one of the black tube tools? Searching the numbers, I found one with the fraction size he was looking for so that had to be it. “Here you go.” I held it up for him pleased that he seemed pleasantly surprised.
“Attach it to the socket, please. I need to hold this in place.” His hand was wrapped around the motor with the other hand reaching through the half-moon shape in the metal and holding something in place.
“How can I help?”
“Can you ratchet this bolt into place?” His index finger touched one of the two protruding bolts. “I feel I’m a hand short.”
“You and me both, buddy,” I whispered under my breath as I involuntarily glanced at my arm still in a sling.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” A tinge of crimson stained the cheeks above his beard. “Just when changing the parts, sometimes it’s nice to have someone helping.”
“It’s okay. I was being cheeky. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I’m not upset. Embarrassed maybe. It should be you who’s upset.”
“Meh, I pick my battles and this isn’t one of them. You’re all good. Promise.” I gave him a nod of assurance.
“Okay. Can you tighten this?” His finger tapped the bolt and moved out of the way.
With my right hand, and an overwhelming urge to grip the metal with my left, I positioned the ratchet on and cranked.
“Excellent. Keep going.”
Like an honour student, I thrived on positive praise and kept cranking the wrench.
“Stop.” He tapped the other one. “Now this one.”
Brushing the side of my hand against his finger, I did as told until he said stop again.
“Perfect. I can finish it from here.” He pulled his one hand through and stretched out the kink after giving it a shake. “Thanks. There’s a paper towel beside the toolbox.”
I hadn’t yet looked at my hands, but they didn’t feel noticeably dirty. However, I did grab a paper towel and wipe my hands just to be safe. The chuckle from Jeremy was cute.
“What is that?” I asked as he set the motor and metal thing down on the counter.
“A bathroom fan motor. I have three to change. The motors were all dying and making a terrible sound.”
“Cool.” Construction work wasn’t my jam, but it was still interesting. “You know a lot about fixing that kind of thing?”
“It’s much cheaper to watch a YouTube video, order parts off Amazon, and do it myself than it is to hire an electrician.”
I’d heard that from Elliot too, although there were some things that were out of his capabilities. Money didn’t grow on trees, not for everyone anyway.
“No doubt.” I nodded. “And you’ve changed all three motors?”
“That was the first one.” He sighed and leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms high above his head and giving me a quick peek at the bare skin above his belt buckle. He dropped them back down and I averted my gaze. “You up for helping on the next two? I know what I’m doing now, but your extra hand will make all the difference for this taking five minutes versus thirty.”
I lifted the ratchet and smiled. “I think I can handle the twisting action as long as you tell me which thing to twist.”
Although he tipped his head down, there was no denying the grin pushing the corners of his eyes up. It was all too easy to stare at. “I think I can handle you doing just that.”
Exactly as he predicted, ten minutes later, we had changed the motors on the fans, he tested them, and once he confirmed they worked as they were intended, he gathered up his tools.
“Do you want to see how I install them?”
“Is it hard?”
“No, but it’s dusty and dirty. On second thought, how about you stay here and watch this busy office? Have them make themselves a coffee while they wait for me to return.”
I glanced around the empty front office. Was he seeing ghosts? There was no one here. Ah, maybe that was the joke. I needed to sharpen my skills apparently.
“This won’t take more than fifteen, twenty minutes tops.”
“Think staying here is more within my capabilities. You didn’t sell me with the whole dusty and dirty part.”
“I wouldn’t have asked you to stay if I didn’t think it was.” He grabbed the three motors and something that looked like a scrub brush and dashed out of the office. “Be right back.”
Once the door closed and the overhead bells stopped jingling, my nose started twitching with the possibilities of doing some snooping—to follow the stairs at the back of the office and see how nice his place was. Rather than give in to temptation, I sat in the comfy chair and spun myself around, singing You Spin Me Round (Like a Record), laughing with each spin.
Suddenly feeling nauseous, I stopped the chair and held tight to the counter. Perhaps that wasn’t my finest moment.
The bells rang, and Jeremy sauntered in with empty arms.
“Hey,” I said, forcing myself to stop from leaning to the left.
He tipped his head sideways and stared.
“Your chair spins nicely, so it’s best if I don’t immediately stand up. I need to let the feeling pass.”
His sweet, throaty laugh made me smile. “Glad you enjoyed yourself.”
“Yep.” It was weird that I felt like I was drunk, and I was answering like that too. I cleared my throat and briefly closed my eyes. Nope, that was a bad mistake. Inhaling sharply, I stared up at him. “Everything hooked up?”
“And working properly.”
“That’s great.” I rested my forearm on the counter. It was weird being on this side of the desk with Jeremy on the other. “You’re like a fixologist.”
“A what?”
“Like a handyman but cooler.”
He bobbed his head and came behind the counter, closing the toolbox and the case with all the sockets in it. “I like that, a fixologist.”
“A Jack of trades. No! A Jeremy of all trades.”
“I prefer the fixologist.” He puffed out his chest slightly. “So, what’s on your agenda for today, since clearly resting isn’t on your to-do list?” He moved the toolbox into one of the closets behind the desk.
Everything was so neat and tidy. Banker’s boxes with dates and—from the quick view I was afforded—a highly detailed inventory of what was in each box.
“I hadn’t given it much thought. Watch a movie. Read a book. Get my car home at some point.”
“Oh, yeah. That’s still parked there.” His butt rested against the desk as he crossed his arms over his chest.
“Not that it’s a big rush. It’s not like I can drive it home or anything.” However, I knew I couldn’t leave it there until I could drive again. It would likely be towed in the next twenty-four hours from a lack of movement—the bylaws were tight.
“So then how do you plan on getting it back here?”
“Details, details, details.” I shook my head but allowed a small, teasing smile to play on my lips as I spun in the chair. “Things I’ll figure out in the moment.”
“You’re not much of a planner, are you?” He stopped the movement and held onto the armrests, staring straight into my soul.
Unable to look, I cast my gaze down to my lap. “Not anymore. Before moving here, my whole life was planned out, down to the minute detail.” I picked at a loose string on the edge of my hoodie pocket. “What I took in school, what I did for extracurricular activities, who I hung out with. What I ate at each meal, what I wore, how I even styled my hair. The whole shebang. Once I left…” I paused, picking the right word. “Home… I tossed the notion of living so rigidly.” Which was probably reason number one why I was constantly late to work, although I actually enjoyed dressing up and being presentable. “And by anyone’s rules.”
“Sounds mostly ideal.”
“The mostly part is correct, not sure if it’s ideal though.” Daring, I chanced a glance upwards. He hadn’t turned away and was still looking at me with sincerity.
Pushing himself to a stand, he cleared his throat and pulled at the collar of his sweatshirt. “So, to do a couple of things at once, what I was thinking was…” He inhaled, holding his breath for a quick second. “Why don’t you join me as I go to see Grandma, and on the way back, we can grab your car?”
“How’s that?” Pretty sure my question was directed to the first part of his. He wanted to introduce me to his grandmother?
“We’ll park my truck there at the Coffee Loft, and I can drive your car here.”
“And what about your truck?”
He dismissed my out loud thoughts. “I can walk back tomorrow morning and pick it up. It’s no biggie. It’s only a few kilometres, and with the fresh spring air, it’ll be a nice walk.” He leaned on the desk. “So what do you think? Want to come and meet Grandma Jesse-Marie?”
Grandmas were tough creatures. What would she think of me? I’d run away from my family and the familial responsibilities and I’d moved around like a nomad. I had no roots here, or roots anywhere near here. I wasn’t anything professional; I didn’t run my own business. I was a barista, and I had no aspirations for anything else. As my mother had whispered under her breath when I left, I was being the stereotypical rebellious teenager, just a dozen years late.
Putting my feet flat on the ground, I stood up, swaying just a tad from my latest spin. “To be honest, meeting a grandmother, especially your grandmother, makes me nervous.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“It’s just… Well, I’ve never met anyone’s grandparents before.” I’ve never even met their parents. It’s one thing to hang out with someone, and to be introduced to a family member is a huge catapult into a different level of our friendship, at least to me. However, the casual way he asked, led me to believe it wasn’t that big a deal. Even if it was huge.
“You have met people before though, right?”
“Well, yeah. It’s just…”
“She’s no different than any of your customers. You’ll be fine. She plays a mean game of rummy, so she’ll enjoy spanking someone new as she’s probably tired of always beating me anyway.”
“I don’t know.” It was tempting, and it would be nice to meet someone new, but still. That was a lot of pressure to drop on someone. And what the heck was rummy?