Chapter 3 - August
"Can you grab me the wrench from the top of the desk in my office please?" If she insists on being here and helping me might as well take advantage of it.
"See? Was that so hard? To ask for help instead of being a dick about it?" I'm under the car, but I hear the smile on her lips despite her remark.
I hear her high heels echoing in the garage. I didn’t even tell her where my office is, but I imagine she’ll figure it out. It gives me a moment to breathe, because ever since I saw her sleeping in her car, it feels like my lungs are struggling to work. I’ll admit, I couldn’t resist spending a minute just looking at her before gently tapping on the window. She looked absolutely gorgeous with her mouth open, sleeping, and seeing her in that neckline is driving me wild. Her dress accentuates every curve of her body. I shouldn't be this aroused by my best friend's daughter. She has been a woman for a while, but it’s the first time I’ve actually noticed her, really seen her for the woman that she is.
A gorgeous woman who doesn't seem to be intimidated by me. I'm not stupid. I know how abrupt and moody I can be; I'm sure people still come to this garage because it's the only one in Hope Peak. Ever since I hired more people, it has been easier. Trenton, for example, is much better at dealing with people than me. He really is the sunshine in this place. People avoid me and I don't try to change it. I enjoy not being pestered about every single thing. I like to get the job done and get to the next car as soon as possible.
But Emma... instead of staying away, she's laughing. Any other person would recoil at being asked why they were touching my tools, but I saw her smile so brightly with my question and now I can't get that smile out of my head. This Valentine's Day was supposed to be just another day trying to get on top of my paperwork, which I never do when there's anyone around. If I'm slightly grumpy on a day-to-day basis, nothing enrages me more than paperwork.
I hear the door of my office creaking. As I expected, she found it. Which reminds me, I've been meaning to put some oil on the door hinges for weeks.
I drop my hands to the floor and pause what I'm doing, taking a deep, steadying breath. Of course, I'll keep my distance despite this attraction I feel toward her. Not that a woman like her would ever look twice at a guy my age, but it's better if I stop seeing her as a woman and start seeing her as my best friend's daughter again. Life has taught me that romantic relationships are not for someone like me, someone who doesn't know how to express himself, which causes misunderstandings all the time. Someone who needs to be alone to get his head straight.
Plus, she's off-limits and a million miles out of my league. A woman like her, a woman who deserves the world with someone like me? There's no Valentine's Day that can make that happen.
Emma is coming back. I need to get back to work instead of thinking of her. The faster I fix her car, the less time she has to put up with me.
"Seems like a tornado passed through your office," she comments, handing me the wrench. I step forward to grab it, and before I realize it, I’m closer than I expected. My fingers brush against hers, and a violent rush of blood pounds in my ears, leaving me momentarily frozen.
"I was doing paperwork before you called." My mouth says before my body unfreezes.
"Ohh!" she coos suddenly, her voice soft with delight. "You must be Marshmallow!"
"You finally deigned to greet us with your presence, Marsh?" He comes to greet me, expecting I pet him until he's satisfied. He's the king of the garage, that's for sure. He's very independent and only lets me pet him on his terms. That's one of the reasons he stays here and not at my place. He has so much room to do whatever he wants and plenty of people come and go, which allows him to pick and choose who he will pet him. He's a diva. Nothing mellow about him.
Thirty seconds later, he's out and going towards Emma's heels.
"He's not the most amicable cat. Be careful so he doesn't scratch you," I warn her.
"He seems friendly to me," curiosity getting the best of me, I roll towards them.
Marshmallow is purring! Purring! He never does it with me. But I understand him, just the brush of her fingers was enough to make me crazy, I'd purr too if she was stroking my body. Great. Now I can't get that image out of my mind. I shift slightly, trying to contain my erection.
"What kind of sorcery are you applying?"
“Why?”
“He never purrs with me.”
“Never?”
I shake my head, frustrated by my cat’s betrayal.
"Maybe it's the fact I can smile?" She says in a playful way, not to hurt me or criticize me, clearly just trying to get a reaction out of me.
"He should purr with me. I'm the one who feeds him." I grunt, rolling back to my work. It's no use trying to make sense of this cat.
Emma laughs. I'm glad I can make her laugh like that, even when I'm not funny.
Nevertheless, the side of my lip quirks up while I'm inspecting the car, partly because of Emma, but because of Marshmallow too. It was nice to hear him purr like that.
"Bye!" Emma says after a while. "Guess he got tired of me."
"He does that. At least you’ve made him purr."
"Maybe I should come by more often, see if that helps to soften him up."
"Right." Just the thought of her coming back more often is enough to make me stop whatever I'm doing.
"Maybe I could soften up you too." I hear her teasing me once again. "Why are you working on a Friday night? On Valentine’s?"
"The garage is quiet at night. It's easier to do the hard stuff."
"Isn't there anyone waiting for you?" She stops for a second. "At home."
"Not really, I'm not really into relationships."
"Why not? You're easy on the eyes." Her smile is flirty, and I don't know what to do with it.
It's the second time she mentioned my attractiveness. A part of me wants to cling to those words somehow. But I don't answer her question. In one hour, she will be out of my life and I'm not going to pour out my heart for some woman I barely know, even if I desperately want to. She's off-limits.
She takes the hint and changes the subject.
"Why did you open the garage?"
"I've always been good at fixing stuff and my parents put to work me as an apprentice to a mechanic who lived here when I was in high school. I was a crazy kid, always getting into trouble, so having a job did give me a lot of structure."
"It's hard to see you that way."
I smile, thinking about all the stupid things I did. Oh my, if it wasn't for the job at Mr. Evans’, I don't know what would have become of me.
"But don't doubt it. I'm thankful he put up with me for as long as he did."
"You seem to cherish him."
"Yeah... My parents were always busy, so it was hard for me to talk to people. But he listened. He made me share even when I didn't want to." I smile, remembering. "He was so pushy, and I got so mad, but it was good for me. I learned a lot with Mr. Evans."
"Where is he now?"
"He's dead." I stop what I'm doing, a breeze of grief touching me, gentle at first, then gut wrenching. It's been ten years since he died, but it still hurts to think about it.
"I'm sorry."
I never talked to anyone about him. People all around town knew how close we were and they were kind when he died, but I never let myself talk about it. It doesn't come naturally to me to talk about my feelings, but with Emma, I want to. I want to share him with her. Tell her what it was like to work with him, how he pushed all my buttons and made me the man I am today. So I do. We talk for a while, the fact she's not looking at me helping me get the words out, to be more vulnerable than I've ever been with anyone. She doesn't go away, she keeps listening and laughing at some of our stories and there's not a hint of impatience in her. She is not waiting for me to get this over with and that just makes me want to share more.
But it's eventually too much. I want some space to breathe, to be alone. And to figure out what's wrong with this car instead of just holding a wrench in my hand.
"I need some silence to work on your car now." I stop our conversation abruptly, like the dumbass that I am. She just heard me talk about the most important person in my life and I'm asking her to give me silence.
"That's okay." She reassures me and a part of me is hoping she understands what has made me stop it. It wasn't because I wasn't enjoying it. I want her to know how much it meant for me to share this with her. "So... about that paperwork. I could help you organize it? I'm really good at it. Of course, I don't know anything about garages, but I'm very good at organizing and I could see you could use some help in that department."
"You don't need to."
"I want to. Plus, organizing is actually fun for me."
"It is? It's a fucking nightmare."
"Don't worry. I'll get it done while you're out here."
"Fine." It takes me a second to realize how dismissive that sounds. Why does my voice sound so rough? I want to thank her, but I'm too much of a rough man to do it because, before I know it, she's out of my reach.
Fuck. And now that she's no longer here, my heart tugs at my chest feeling hollowed out without her here.