CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN Chip
The closer Christmas Eve got, the more anxious I felt. The thought of spending an evening with John, his parents, and my new boyfriend seemed untenable in the best of circumstances.
No matter how many times I expressed my concern to Van, he wouldn’t agree that meeting everyone all at once was a bad idea. His feelings remained the same. “Bite the bullet,” he’d said.
He seemed resigned to getting the inevitable out of the way. He was either the strongest man I’d ever met by facing his fears, or he was a fool to fall for Mrs. Hatfield’s obvious scheme. And of course, I believed he was strong, but I wondered why she’d moved on from James as my next partner.
If it hadn’t been for the mess of the unexpected craziness of John’s imminent return, my holiday thus far was amazing. Van’s love of Christmas made mine seem amateurish. He was beyond any person I’d met when it came to being festive and full of cheer.
He greeted every person he met with holiday cheer of some sort. The mercantile sound system was cranked up several notches, dialed to a station playing nonstop holiday songs. He knew every song and sang along like he was a choir leader, his voice pure and sweet.
The store windows were outlined with bright lights.
The exterior of the building was outlined as well.
He sprayed fake snow from a can to make the windows appear frosted.
Every single inflatable animal previously in storage was plugged in and placed somewhere.
The roof, the sidewalks, the gas pumps. No available space was missed.
The tree he designed for inside the mercantile was old-fashioned, like the exterior of the building. He added rustic ornaments and real tree branches. Tarnished-looking bells and antique figurines filled every open area on the real tree. He’d found items I didn’t know Mom and Dad had stored away.
Everything had a theme and a perfected look. He was a master at decorating the mercantile for Christmas. And don’t get me started on the cabin. Frankly, I didn’t know when he’d found the time.
Bertie was in love, too. I was well aware of how fond Bertie was of John.
Deservedly so. John was a wonderful human being.
But her affection toward Van was pleasing to witness.
Van fawned over her like she was his grandmother.
He made sure she ate well, got home safely, and took her meds on time.
He was everything I wished I was in how he interacted with her.
The mercantile buzzed with life again, and the feeling was contagious.
You couldn’t be around Van without witnessing the wonder with which he lived his life.
Yes, he was a dreamer. Yes, he was overly optimistic.
But what he wasn’t was artificial. You knew he walked the walk.
He truly believed what he represented to each of us.
Simply put, he was a breath of fresh air.
What had I done to deserve such a man, who’d randomly shown up and impacted my world the way he did?
How he managed to pull me back into my life astounded me.
There was pure joy in him at all times. Even when he worried, he could find his way through.
He possessed a childlike quality of wonder while never forgetting he was a grown man. I absolutely adored him.
I admired Van’s desire to face the people in my world and get the unease out of the way.
He wanted to be a valued member of the community, yet he understood I’d had a life before his arrival.
Faced with a reversal of fortune, one where I entered his world, populated with his people, forced to adapt, I doubted I could do what he was managing to do.
The bigger question? How had Evan let him go?
I jumped in the Jeep I was working on, catching a glimpse of Van outside as he sprinted to the gas pump to fill Ms. Klompke’s SUV with fuel.
Sarah Klompke lost her leg to diabetes a few years back, and Van knew I always pumped her gas.
He also knew I’d promised Mr. Hall I’d get his transmission repaired before Christmas so he could pick his daughter up at the Missoula airport.
That example, and so many more, was why Missile had fallen in love with the man I wanted to be with so badly I ached inside. I was completely smitten. No need to sugarcoat my feelings about him. I was hopelessly in love with a man I’d known for less than two weeks.
Instead of believing the universe would expose him as a fraud.
Or that I was ignorant of the reality of love at first sight, I decided to think as Van did.
I chose to believe the universe does send messages.
I also chose to accept as true that good people find good people if somehow guided to them.
Van believed it. Hell, Van preached the gospel of positive thinking. Why couldn’t I?
A smack to the rear of the Jeep woke me from my lovefest of emotions. Before I could exit the vehicle, Van stood by the driver’s door, smiling like only he could. So full of love for me, I wanted to actually weep.
“Almost done, stud?” he asked, licking his thumb and swiping at grease on my chin.
I watched as he tried to get the offending grease off his thumb. His face scrunched up like a pug, the expression trying its best to ruin such a handsome face, but ultimately failing. He was heartbreakingly beautiful.
“Look at me,” I whispered, holding my hand out to him.
He assumed I wanted a hand out of the Jeep, but I pulled him toward me instead. He ignored my greasiness and allowed me to yank him into the open door.
“Hey,” he complained. “You’re greasy and oily.”
I winked at him shamelessly. “Normally you don’t complain when I’m greased up,” I quipped, glancing toward my crotch.
He eyed me closely, tilting his head. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying, mister?”
“Feel.” I lifted off the seat of the Jeep.
Van quickly looked behind himself before grabbing my erection and rubbing its length through my Carhartt’s. “Mmm,” he moaned, licking his lips. He glanced at his watch. “We have Bertie for another thirty minutes.”
“And?” I teased.
“And get your ass in the shop shower and give me five minutes,” he ordered. “I expect you showered and sitting on the bench by the time I get there. Lock the shop doors too.”
“Bossy much?”
He squeezed my cock harder. “You want this drained, mister?”
“Hell yeah, I do.”
Van pointed to the garage bathroom and then walked away. Stopping halfway to the mercantile door, he turned around. “The restroom is that way, so hurry up.” He crossed his arms, tapping a foot on the concrete floor.
I hopped up and made my way to the back of the shop. My grandfather had added the shower in the garage restroom after many years of my grandmother complaining about him coming home smelling like grease and gasoline.
In addition to a sink, toilet, and shower, there were six lockers for employees and a metal bench sitting along the wall of the surprisingly large room. After a quick shower, the bench was where I sat naked, waiting for Van.
Van stepped into the restroom and locked the door. Turning to face me, I noted a very seductive and naughty expression on his face. He stood silently, taking all of me in. After a thorough eye-banging, he finally spoke.
“You’re in for a surprise.”
“Yeah?”
He didn’t respond. Instead, he continued staring at my erection without uttering a word. The sexual tension in the air proved to be almost too much. I was rock hard, stroking my cock as he walked around the room, circling me like a wolf eyeing a lamb.
“Don’t do that!” He motioned toward my cock. “That’s my job.”
“Get naked then,” I replied, patting the bench. “Join me, boy.”
“Not happening, mister mechanic,” he rasped. “I’m not into that stuff because I’m not gay, but I understand I have a bill to pay. One I can’t afford.”
Realizing he was playing a scene he may have found hot, I decided to go all in.
Role play was new to me, but I’d discovered Van was open to a lot of things I’d never experienced.
I knew from recent experience that he liked a more passive role in the bedroom, so I decided to fulfill my role as macho mechanic.
“You’re paying one way or another,” I gruffed, holding my balls in one hand while running the other hand along my shaft.
He pulled his sweatshirt over his head and tossed it in the corner. I waited for him to drop his jeans, but he didn’t do that. He kept me on edge while he continued walking around the room, eyeing me suspiciously.
“I’ve never done anything like this,” he confessed, suddenly adding a shy, na?ve, and passive characteristic to his role. “I’m forced to because I’m broke, sir.”
“Well, punk. It looks like you’re gonna be sucking some dick then.”
He edged closer, avoiding eye contact. I had a hunch we were involved in something he’d fantasized about in the past. Without having many details, and because he never once belittled his ex, I suspected there were aspects of that past relationship that weren’t sexually fulfilling to Van.
“I don’t want you to touch me.”
“I don’t give a shit what you want,” I spat, switching my role to an aggressive, mechanic, redneck type. “This is my shop, and you tried to fuck me over by not having any cash.”
“But I need my truck so I can get to work,” he explained, jamming his hands into his pockets as deep as he could, forcing his Levi’s down and exposing his pubes. He looked so fucking hot. “I’m desperate and I’ll do anything you want, sir.”
“Yeah?” I asked, moving my eyes to my crotch. “It ain’t gonna suck itself, boy.”
I pointed to the floor in front of me, and he moved closer. Step by agonizingly slow step. Van shifted his eyes several times from my cock to my face, and back again. After making me impatiently wait more than a minute, he stood directly in front of me.