Chapter 5
Clara
I walk up to my neighbor’s truck, it’s a really nice one, big and fancy. He’s got one of the lifts put on it, making it high enough off the ground that I feel like I’m mountain climbing to get in. He’s even got a ball hitch on the back. I’ve seen him hook up a trailer to it before to haul supplies to his house in.
He’s already told me that I’m gonna have to pay him for fixing my vehicle. That doesn’t particularly surprise me. My dad always said there are no free lunches in life. My dad probably would have fixed my car, only we’re not talking because he and my mom are pressuring the living daylights out of me to forgive my sister, so everything can go back to normal in my family. I’ve gone low contact with them because of that.
Finally, Mr. Jones slams his truck door and starts the engine. I’m discretely trying to figure out how much to offer him for the pending auto repair. When he doesn’t speak, I feel like I should make nice. “You have a really big truck,” I say, hoping he takes it as a compliment.
He gives me the side eye before informing me, “In case y’all haven’t heard, everything’s bigger in Texas.”
A mental image of him the other night wearing only his pajama bottoms springs to mind and I feel my cheeks getting hot. I raise an eyebrow, “Is that so?”
I can see a muscle tighten in his cheek, like he wants to laugh but for some reason won’t allow himself to loosen up with me. This man is all kinds of weird. Not in a serial killer kind of way. More like an extremely awkward, never had a girlfriend kind of way. Only, I know that can’t be true because he’s got a teenage son. Rather than have us sit in awkward silence I get my phone out and see if I can find information on the part I need and how much I’ll need to pay him.
The app I’m on is telling that that for my make and model of vehicle putting a new starter on will take close to two hours and the mechanic should be getting paid a hundred and fifty dollars an hour. That seems pricy but reasonable. I guess mechanics and plumbers get paid so much because of their specialized skill set.
Luckily the store is close, and once we’re there it only takes us about ten minutes to pick out and pay for the part. Thanks God they have it in stock. On the way back to my house, I get a text from Shelly saying that her mom came home early and is in a bad mood, so she’ll have to reschedule our meet up. I text her to bring the applications to school on Monday and I’ll help her with them in her free time.
Mr. Jones asks, “Is everything okay? You look like someone just kicked your puppy.”
I glance up from my phone and slide it into my pocket. “I just got a message from my student trying to reschedule our meet up. Sorry to put you to so much trouble today.”
“It’s fine,” he says in the least grumpy tone I’ve gotten from him thus far. “I can go ahead and put the starter in for you. It will take less than hour on your car because it’s pretty accessible.”
“What do you mean by it being accessible? We just bought the part.”
He glanced at me with a frown. “What I mean to say is starters are located in different places depending on the make and model of your vehicle. Mine is located underneath the intake manifold, so getting to it a real bitch. If I remember correctly on your car, it’s accessible from the top and easy to get to.”
I wrinkle my nose, finally understanding what he’s talking about. “That’s great news. Maybe we can have a look at my security alarm while we’re in there. Maybe it’s malfunctioning?”
His frown deepens. “There ain’t gonna be any us, darlin’. It’s gonna be me getting the job done lickety-split, because I have a hungry son to feed. I don’t have hours to walk y’all through the whole process and check out your security shit while I’m at it. Y’all need to take it back to the dealership for that.”
I sigh, realizing I should have known better than to think this man was gonna let me help with the repair. And it was downright silly to suggest he look at the security alarm. That’s clearly a specialty type repair that should be done by a qualified professional. The starter should probably be put in by a professional too, but I’m more interested in getting it done right away than having to schedule it with the dealership.
“Well, don’t worry. I plan to pay you for the labor,” I tell him because I don’t want him to think I’m trying to take advantage of him.
“I already told y’all, it’s a favor, so I ain’t taking your schoolteacher salary. Where I come from neighbors take care of each other.”
I let his words roll around in my head for a few minutes. He likes trading favors, so I perk up. “I’m making dinner for myself, I can make extra for you and your son. How does that sound?”
Suddenly, the grumpy man is all kinds of interested. “It’s been a mighty long time since we’ve had good homecooked food.” The wistful tone of his voice makes me think he might not understand that food is food, no matter who cooks it.
“I’m making lemon chicken with creamy fettuccine, a side salad and fresh rolls. I put the rolls out to rise as soon as I came home this afternoon. They should be ready to put in the oven about the time dinner is finished.”
“Y’all sure it wouldn’t be any extra trouble?” he asks, sounding sincere.
“No. Not at all. I normally make a bunch and have leftovers for days. Sharing with you and your son will save me from developing a repetitive eating disorder.”
He actually chuckles, “Now, I ain’t stupid. Y’all just made that disorder up.”
I can’t help but grin back at him. “Maybe I did. So we’re trading a favor for a favor this evening.”
“Yes ma’am, that sounds mighty fine.”
“You won’t regret it,” I tell him. “I’m a good cook, Mr. Jones.”
“Well then, it’s a good trade because I’m a good mechanic. By the way, Mr. Jones is my daddy, my name’s Wyatt, but y’all can call me Tex, everyone else does.”
“Because you’re from Texas, right?” I feel a bit silly asking the obvious, but I’m interested to know more about this man now that I have ungrumpified him.
“Yes, ma’am. I’m from Austin, Texas. That’s exactly why my club brothers call me Tex.”
“I almost forget you’re in that motorcycle club, especially on the days when you’re wearing your uniform.”
He tugs the front of his vest down, so it lays neatly and murmurs, “Well, I don’t ever forget I’m a member of the Savage Legion MC, that’s for damn sure. It would mean I’ve forgotten my club brothers. That will never happen, no siree,” he adds sharply.
I throw up my hands. “I’ve got nothing against you or your club, so don’t think my comment had a hidden meaning.”
“Alright, I’ll take y’all at your word for that,” he states quietly. And just like that, his grumpy mood is back. Damn, this man was as prickly as they come, and it was really irritating to always have to navigate around his peculiar personality. Therefore, I went back to scrolling on my cell phone and just kept my mouth closed for the rest of the drive. I’d fix him and his son food in exchange for him repairing my car and that would be the end of our short-lived truce.
Within moments he’s pulling into his driveway. I hop out of the pickup and drop my keys in his hand before fast walking back to my house. I have absolutely no shame when it comes to putting my back to this man.
***
Cooking was one of my favorite pastimes, a way of working off stress. So, I get right to it, sautéing the chicken breasts lightly in garlic butter, I set them aside with the lid on to finish cooking. Next, I pull out homemade fettuccine from my freezer and set it aside to thaw out a little. It takes me a bit to make my Alfredo sauce from scratch. Once the sauce is on the hob, I remember to slide the rolls into the oven and set the timer. When everything is ready, I get a couple of large round containers and begin filling it with the fettuccine alfredo, add some extra cheese on top and then slide in a large chicken breast and a hefty scoop of green beans from my slow cooker. I wrap a pile of the hot rolls in a large cloth napkin and tie the corners up.
I bag it up for Tex and his son. Just as I’m walking out the door, I hear my car start up. Even if Tex is grumpy, he’s as good as his word about fixing my car so I can’t find it in my heart to be upset with him. He’s wiping his hands on a towel when I walk up, looking pleased with himself.
“Thank you, Tex. Replacing that starter saves me a lot of grief. I appreciate it more than you know.” I hold out the bag with his dinner in and watch his nose go wild. It’s kind of cute.
“Wow, your food smells amazing, Clara, looking forward to chowing down on this tonight.” When he reaches out, I see he still has something grimy on his arm, so I snag his rag, spit on it, and wipe away the greasy streak.
He bats my hand away playfully, “Stop acting like my mama.”
“Are you trying to tell me you’d rather have black grease from my car on your arm rather than my saliva?” I ask with a grin on my face.
His eyebrows shoot up. “When you put it like that, yes. Keep your spit to yourself, woman.”
I take a step back. “I could say something right now, but I won’t.”
“Yeah, that’s a good idea. Cause if you start flirting with me about swapping saliva, I might get accused of robbing the damn cradle.”
My head tilts to the side. “How in the heck old do you think I am?”
He gives me a rueful look, “Maybe twenty.”
My hands came up to rest on my hips. “I have a whole ass college degree. You know that because I’m a teacher. I may not be an old codger like you, but I’m not a teen.”
Suddenly, his son was yelling from the front door. “We getting dinner anytime soon? My belly thinks my throat’s been cut.”
I did an about-face and walk towards my back door. “Enjoy your dinner, Tex, and thanks for the help.”
He shouts after me, “Catch!”
When I turn, he tosses me my keys. I reach out and catch them with one hand, thankfully. I was tired of looking like a fool in front of this neighbor of mine. “Thanks again, Tex.”
My neighbor was a complex man. One the one hand, he’d clearly had a hard life. His wife had either left him or she’s passed away. He didn’t seem like the type of man who believed in divorce, so I didn’t think he left her. He finally told me his name and gave me permission to call him by his nickname, and, unless I missed my guess, I think we did flirt a bit.