2. Winston’s Hot Dad
Chapter 2
Winston’s Hot Dad
S he was pretty.
No. More than pretty.
She kind of took my breath away. Even soaking wet from the rain, I could appreciate her beauty. Chocolate brown eyes framed in long dripping lashes. Her auburn-colored hair pulled back in a clip though several soaked pieces hung down around her heart-shaped face. Her skin was fair and spattered with a few freckles across her nose. Her cheeks were pink from the walk in the rain and her smile.
Fuck.
Her rambling reminded me of…well, it made me want to smile too, even though I didn’t.
It’s not every day a beautiful woman I’ve never met comes knocking on my door. This town isn’t that big and I know pretty much everybody in it.
But not this girl.
She was like a feral pigeon. Docile. Sweet. Not afraid of a stranger at all, which is weird.
Rosie and Javan have talked about their extended family a few times when we’ve chatted, but I don’t remember them ever mentioning their hot niece who talks a lot.
I turn around after watching the pretty girl walk back down the street toward her car.
What was her name? Paige?
I know it reminded me of Pigeon which is what made me think about pigeons in the first place.
“Winston, you scoundrel.” I give him a rough scratch behind his ears. “You found a pigeon and thought you needed to bring her home, huh?”
Winston responds with a mumbled “Maaaaaa.” I shake my head with an amused smile. “Yeah, well, maybe you could just stay in the yard next time, alright? What is this, the third or fourth time you’ve run someone off the road? I just had to help Nix McKesey out of the ditch not too long ago because of you, bud. This is not how we make friends.”
“Maaaaaa.”
“I hear you. The grass is greener over there. And I know you always come back, but the people who almost hit you don’t. The pigeon didn’t know that.”
Holding open the back door off the kitchen, I take Winston to the barn with the other goats and let him have some family social time. As my oldest barn resident for years, Winston gets treated like royalty around here. Everyone in town knows who he is. Though I suppose when the town goat is also the mascot of the Tuft Swallow cornhole team and the honorary Mayor, everyone would know him. He’s an ornery old man who has already surpassed his life expectancy. He doesn’t mind causing a stink now and again with some of the locals in town—yes, he gets to come into town with me most days. A Mayor’s got to look after his town—but they all love him just the same.
Once I’m back in the kitchen, I pull the heated plate of chicken patties out of the microwave and plop a couple on the buns I have waiting. It’s not a gourmet dinner tonight, but it’s better than nothing after a long day. Pulling out a chair, I take a seat at the kitchen table and shove the chicken sandwich into my mouth relieved to finally be eating food. I peer out the window as I chew my dinner and notice there still aren’t any lights on at Rosie and Javan’s.
The fuck?
Did the pigeon get lost?
She just had to go across the street.
It’s then that I catch sight of a shadowed figure walking down the road past the house toward Rosie and Javan’s. Her long, wet hair and slender body giving her away. It’s clearly the pigeon. She’s pulling a large suitcase behind her with a soaking wet duffle bag and purse across her body.
What happened to her car?
Why isn’t she in it?
I watch in silence as she finally gets to the house across the street. She must get herself inside alright because several lights start to illuminate the windows throughout the house. Shaking my head I huff out a silent laugh, amused at the sight of the pretty drenched girl walking down the street with her belongings in the dark of night, but also a tiny bit annoyed with myself. I should’ve offered to take her back to her car. I should have made sure she was safe. She could get herself killed out there all alone. Not that crime like that happens a lot in this tiny town, but never say never.
“Car must be stuck,” I murmur to myself, my words spurring on childhood memories that warm my chest.
The front door slams open and Heather’s in the doorway, her raincoat soaking wet and her boots a muddy mess. “Bran! I need you!”
“What now?” I chuckle, tossing the last of the potato chips from the bag into my mouth. “Did you forget which pedal was the gas and which was the brake?” Between the two of us, I’ve always been the better driver.
She cocks her head. “Very funny, and no. I know very well which one is the pedal, but I hit it a little hard and got myself stuck in the field and nearly ran myself right into Winston’s pen and I need help getting out before Mom and Dad see what I did and never allow me to drive the truck again.”
“You got yourself into that mess, you can get yourself out.”
“But that’s just it! I can’t,” she huffs. “Hence the word…STUCK.”
“Did you try putting it in reverse and hitting the gas?”
She nods. “Well, I can’t hit the gas too hard or I’ll spray mud into Mom’s flower bed and we’ll never hear the end of it.”
“Correction,” I tell her, as I drop my plate in the trashcan, “you will never hear the end of it.”
Heather rolls her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Okay. You’re the superior driver and I suck big ass monkey balls, okay? Now can you please help me get the truck out of the mud?”
I turn with a smirk. “What do I get out of the deal?”
She juts her hip out and folds her arms over her chest. “How about I don’t tell the whole senior class that you have a couple porno magazines under your mattress?”
“Psh.” I roll my eyes and laugh. “Nobody cares about that, Sis. If you only knew how many guys in the locker room talk about their porn stash.”
Her eyes narrow as she stares at me from the doorway. “Or how about I tell Mom and Dad that you were fucking Jessica Scorington in the goat barn last weekend?”
My eyes bulge and my gut churns. “What? How do you know about that?”
“First of all, bro, she’s not the quietest fuck buddy you’ve ever had. She squeals louder than any pig I’ve ever heard.”
“Heather…”
“And secondly, you fucked one of the biggest gossip queens of the whole school. Everybody knows about it.”
“Everybody?”
She shrugs her shoulder. “I mean Mom and Dad don’t know…yet.”
I let out a huge sigh. “I’ll get the key to the tractor and pull you out.”
Her beaming smile tells me she knew exactly how she could get me to help her out of a sticky situation. Either that or it’s whatever the hell this twin-relationship we seem to have is. In the grand scheme, there isn’t much I wouldn’t do for my sister. We’ve shared a bond for longer than I can remember. I may be older than her by a few minutes, but she’d do anything for me and I try not to forget that.
If Heather were here right now, she’d be giving me the stink eye and telling me to get my ass outside and help this pigeon out of the mud.
Though everything in me wants to pretend I didn’t see anything, and don’t know anything, I sigh heavily realizing I’m about to go back out in the pouring rain to help the pretty pigeon.
Because I won’t be able to sleep peacefully if I don’t at least try.
She’s new here.
Rosie and Javan are out of town.
I doubt she has anyone else here to help her.
At least that’s what I tell myself as I pull on my rain jacket and slip my feet into my boots. If I had to guess, her car is stuck in the mud on the side of the road so I don’t even bother walking down to check it out. Instead, I hop in my pickup truck and take a quick drive. Just as I suspected, there’s a yellow Volkswagen beetle in the mud on the side of the road that I have to assume belongs to the pigeon. It looks like the kind of car she would drive. It also looks old as fuck. Using a flashlight to look inside I can see all kinds of girlie shit from a flowery hand lotion to a sparkly head band and a bedazzled coin purse laying on the passenger seat.
Yep, this is her car. It has to be.
I take a quick walk around the vehicle to make sure there aren’t any other obvious issues like a flat tire or broken pieces from a possible accident, but everything looks good. She just got herself stuck in the mud. I jiggle the door handle to make sure she’s locked the car but to my surprise the door opens.
What the hell?
Of course she didn’t lock her damn car.
Totally something Heather would do.
On the plus side, this makes it easier for me to tow down the road. I slip inside and put the car into neutral and then climb out and grab my tow strap. Once I attach the strap around the tow hook on the back of my truck, I lower myself underneath her car, yes, in the mud, to hook everything up safely.
Alright, let’s do this.
I climb back into my truck a fucking muddy wet mess and push the gas pedal slowly and with caution. Glancing out my rearview mirror, I watch as her car is pulled safely out of the mud and onto the road behind my truck.
Good.
Continuing at the same cautious speed, I carefully tow her car less than a mile down the road, pulling up in front of Rosie and Javan’s house. I get everything unhooked, put her car in park, and close the door making sure to actually lock it for her this time. I peer up at the windows of her house but see that some have been turned off. For all I know she’s gone to sleep or she’s in the back of the house, but she never looks out the window. Not that I was looking for credit or a thank you or anything like that. It’s fine. I fix peoples’ cars all the time. At least now I can sleep tonight knowing her vehicle is safe and she’s safely inside.
I park my truck in the garage and head into the house, sighing that I’m once again muddy and soaked to the bone.
Oh well. Nothing another shower can’t fix.
And knowing the pretty pigeon is safe and warm for the night is worth an extra shower.
I just hope she locked the front door.
Winston and I pull into the auto garage just before seven. Before I unlock the shop though, we walk across town square to Bun in the Oven, the best bakery in Tuft Swallow, to grab a morning breakfast sandwich for me and an apple turnover for Winston. The owner of the shop, Wren Sounds, greets us with a friendly smile when Winston and I step inside. I don’t even have to place an order anymore. I’ve been coming here for so long, Wren has my order ready and waiting. She knows I don’t love doing the whole people thing so she helps get me in and out quickly. This time though, Wren is taking care of a woman in front of me so she gestures to the paper bag sitting on the counter as she continues her conversation. I step up to retrieve my order and can’t help but overhear their discussion.
“I seriously don’t know how it got there,” the woman marvels with a soft chuckle. “I drove it into the mud last night trying not to hit this goat in the middle of the road and when I woke up this morning it was…” The woman turns toward me when I step up next to her and gasps. “Oh my gosh, it’s you.”
She notices Winston standing inside the door as well and that same smile I saw last night lights up her face again.
She has a pretty smile.
“Well, good morning Mr. Winston.” She gives him a few pats between his horns. “I see you survived the night.” She shoves her hands into her back pockets and rocks back on her heels, her head tilted as she tries to make eye contact with me. “And good morning Mister…uh…” Her brows fold and she shakes her head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name. I’m so sorry, I should’ve asked last night.”
I want to answer her.
I do.
I want to strike up a conversation with her and find out more about her.
Like what she’s doing in town and how long she’ll be here and where her beautiful smile comes from.
But I don’t.
Instead, I lift my paper bag and gesture toward the door before I step out and whistle for Winston to follow me, grateful to be out of there and away from conversation.
“Time to get to work, Bud,” I murmur to Winston as we casually make our way back across the square.
“Hey! Wait!” someone yells when we’re about halfway across the small park in the center of town. “Winston’s Dad!”
It’s her.
The pigeon.
I can already recognize the gentle softness of her voice and when I turn around to see what’s going on, she’s running toward us. Her toned legs carrying her effortlessly across the street, her tits bouncing with every leap.
Yeah I’m that guy.
I might not say much but, that doesn’t mean I don’t notice a fine pair of tits when they’re bouncing in front of me.
And Pigeon’s tits are the sexiest things I’ve never seen.
She finally catches up to us, a paper bag in one hand and a yellow-colored fruit smoothie in another.
“Was it you?” she asks, panting from her quick jog.
“Huh?”
“My car.” She gestures to where her yellow beetle is parked in front of the antique shop and I wonder how I missed seeing it. There’s a large streak of mud covering the bottom right side from when her tires spun out.
Damn. I should’ve hosed it off for her.
Figured the rain would get it.
“Did you somehow get it out of the mud for me?” She tilts her head, staring at me. “I just met Wren this morning. In the bakery? She told me you owned the auto shop across the square so I just…you know…wondered if maybe you…”
Fuck, every time our eyes meet something in my chest flips around in response. It’s not comfortable, but yet something about it feels…oddly good.
I answer with an affirming nod.
“Wow. Okay.” Her shoulders drop in relief. “Well, thank you so much. You didn’t say anything last night. I could’ve…umm, anyway, please, let me pay you for your trou?—”
“No.” I shake my head, my brows pinching.
No way in hell am I taking money from the pretty pigeon.
Her brows raise and a sly smirk crosses her lips. “So, you do talk.”
I’m not dumb if that’s what you’re asking.
I give her a curt nod. “Yes.”
“Okay, well, umm, I really wish you would let me pay you for?—”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Because you make something in my chest stir.
Because you’re easily the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.
Because I went to bed last night thinking about you and that’s weirding me out.
I don’t even bother giving her a reason. I simply shrug and gesture to the garage behind me. “Work.”
She lifts her head, reading the ImPeckable Auto sign behind me. “Right. Work. Yeah. Okay. I should get the shop open too.” She points at me playfully. “So, you’re saved by the bell for now. But don’t think I’m forgetting about this, Mister.”
I chuckle inwardly to myself because fuck, she’s cute, and watch her walk backwards towards her car. When she mentions the shop I assume she’s talking about The Cuckoo’s Nest. It’s the antique shop her aunt and uncle have run since I moved here on the other side of the square. That must be why she’s here. She’s helping out while they’re away.
She turns back and I freeze, embarrassed I’ve been caught watching her. “Wipers,” she says, her brows furrowed. “I need new wipers. Do you carry those?”
I nod and she smiles in response. “Great. I’ll stop by one of these days and pick some up.” She passes on another friendly smile and waves. “Bye, Winston. See you around…Winston’s Dad.”
See ya, Pigeon.
Larry’s hopping down from his tow truck when Winston and I finally make it into the garage.
“Who’s the girl?” he asks. “Don’t remember seein’ her around here before.”
In age, Larry Budgerigar could almost be my father and he’s definitely been that kind of influence on me since the day I pulled into Tuft Swallow almost fifteen years ago. I was a mess back then. A shell of a young man. I suppose I still am, but Larry is my comfort. My safe space. He knows it and I know it. He’s the only one I talk to regularly. Well, besides Judy.
“She’s pigeon.”
Larry cocks his head. “Pigeon? That her name?”
I shake my head. “Sorry, no. Her name is Paige. Made me think of Pigeon. Anyway, she’s related to the Starlings. Helping out at The Cuckoo’s Nest while they’re traveling apparently. She wound up at my door last night soaking wet and lost with her car in the ditch after this asshole here,” I say, nudging Winston, “almost ran her off the road.”
Winston bleats. “Maaaaaaaaaa.”
Larry chuckles. “Sounds about right for ol’ Winston. She’s a pretty little thing.” I notice he comments in such a way that he’s expecting me to respond and when I don’t, he does what he always does. Puts his hand on his hip and glares at me over the top of his silver spectacles. “Ahem.”
I grunt, annoyed. “Yeah okay. She’s pretty. So what?”
“Well did you help her out last night? Did you at least invite her in to dry off?”
I wasn’t thinking about anything dry when I got a good look at her.
My house is for me and Winston anyway.
Nobody else needs to be there.
“Why would I do that when the house she was looking for was right across the street?”
Larry palms his forehead, shaking his head back and forth in what I assume is disbelief. “One of these days, I’ve got to learn you right, son.”
“Don’t get your panties in a twist old man. I pulled her car out of the ditch for her and left it in the driveway so she’d have it today. I made sure it was safe. That’s what I do.”
He looks me over, finally rewarding me with a slight smile. “Well, that’s something I guess. You ought to get to know her. Show her around a little. Meetin’ new people would be good for you.”
I don’t respond to Larry this time. Instead, I gesture for Winston to follow me into the office so I can share my breakfast.
Get to know the pigeon.
Yeah, right.
“We don’t need new friends, do we, Winston?”
“Maaaaaa.”
Before I sit down, I look up the kind of wiper blades the pigeon needs, finding them in the cabinet, and make a mental note to replace them for her before I leave for the day.
“That’s right. We’re doing fine on our own.”
“Maaaaaa.”