Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Sandy comes by every morning for the next few days.
I take Stella and the diaper bag from her arms, and she leaves for my bedroom.
Each day, she sleeps a little better. Stella and I hang out outside, me lounging in the chair and her sleeping in her stroller.
On day three of this arrangement, I realize I could easily do my work here, so I set up the laptop on a tray in my lap and work on the book.
My eyes often flee to the attractive man in my backyard, and I find myself replaying the scene where he caught me masturbating repeatedly.
Weirdly enough, it doesn’t tamper with my writing focus.
I would say I’m hitting my daily word counts even faster than before, the steamy scenes simply flowing from me.
I expect a lot of work in the editing process, though, since I described the male main character’s ocean blue eyes as pitch black at least twice.
There’s also absolutely no reason for my corporate character to be wearing a tank top and flannel, but the heart wants what it wants.
Better yet, the hormones want what they want.
The awkwardness of catching me naked subsided, but his constant flirting is getting to me.
Like now, when he notices me looking and winks playfully, turning his cap around, while I pretend to be deep in thought.
I realize it’s his personality, I realize it’s the way his youthful, vibrant mind works, but I’m too deprived of touch and anything sexual for it not to affect me.
My vibrator took his form in my mind more times than I’m comfortable to admit. I’ve also been on edge every single day, now forced to stare at him the whole morning because my niece can only stand the circular saw noise.
Stella fusses for a minute before waking up. Right away, I know she’s hungry because nothing can wake her when the saw is doing its thing.
“Hi, baby,” I coo, picking her up from the gray stroller.
The heat has picked up, so she’s only wearing a light, long-sleeved bodysuit with a pair of adorable pink leggings. Placing her on my chest, I dig through the diaper bag, finding the milk Sandy pumped out.
She calms down as soon as her tiny lips wrap around the bottle. Logan must have noticed because he turns off the saw for a moment of reprieve.
My ears are still buzzing from the relentless noise when Logan approaches, taking his water bottle.
“This look suits you well,” he says before clearing his throat. I’m focused on the drop of water trailing from his full lips, down to the sharp edge of his chin. “You look like you know what you’re doing.”
“I guess it’s like riding a bike,” I joke. “Though I prefer to take this bike out for a spin and then return it to its owner later.”
He chuckles. “I definitely agree with that.”
“Come on. You’re young. You will change your mind once you have one of your own.”
He shrugs but it seems half-hearted, like he doesn’t believe me.
“It’s ok if you don’t, too,” I backtrack. “It’s a valid personal decision.” Smooth thinking, Sadie. You first showed your age by assuming he’ll want to have kids and now you’re making a fool of yourself, wanting to showcase how progressive you are .
“How did you get into construction?” I ask, changing the subject.
“I love the feeling of making something. And I love working with my hands.”
“Mhm.” And those hands certainly look like they know what they’re doing. Shit, why does everything he says sounds so fucking hot?
“Why romance?” He returns the question.
“It gets a bad rep. Probably because predominantly women love it.” He winces, like he knows exactly what I’m talking about.
“But it’s something else. It’s the only genre where the reader already knows the ending.
And you still need to surprise them. You need to evoke all these feelings while they know exactly what will happen.
It’s challenging, but so much fun.” He listens with rapt attention while my lungs expand.
“I guess you’re right. I never thought about it that way.”
“Like I said, it gets a bad rep.”
“It sucks. But I’m glad you get to do what you obviously love.”
His words pull my lips into a grin. “Yeah, I was lucky.”
Stella finishes eating, so I pick her up to burp her. Not a second later, her mommy appears in front of us. Logan excuses himself and heads back to work.
“She been up long?” Sandy asks, stretching her arms above her head.
Though she just woke up, she looks infinitely better than a few days ago. Her cheeks are rosy, the dark circles underneath her eyes less pronounced. Best of all, her smile is back.
“Nope. Your inner alarm clock has been right once again.”
We’ve been joking about her having an alarm clock set for whenever Stella awakes, no matter how many rooms are between them.
She pumps her fist in the air, and I can’t help but smile. Her gaze trails to Logan, and I swear I see a sparkle in her eye .
“Here I was, thinking you’ve been doing me a favor, but your end of the deal doesn’t look too bad either.”
I act shocked, gasping. “What a preposterous suggestion. I’ve been taking care of my niece. I don’t have time for shenanigans like that.”
She chuckles loudly, and I’m glad to see her happy. Logan approaches us.
“I need to check up on another site. But I’ll be back later,” he says.
“Sure.” I give him a thumbs up and watch him leave.
“You know what? I’ve been neglecting my romance trope guide duties.” Sandy adds, taking Stella from my arms before continuing, “I need to get going now, but tomorrow, we’re back on.”
“I need to hit the store. I’ll walk you out.”
“Thank you, again, for doing this.” Sandy gives me a tight hug.
“If I hear ‘thank you’ one more time, I swear to God I’ll send you home the next time you come.” I shoot her a glare.
“Fine, fine.” She smiles before mouthing, ‘Thank you.’
While she buckles Stella’s seat into the car, I’m already turning the key in mine. The car lets out a rattling noise but doesn’t start. Again, I turn the key and the same thing happens.
Rattle. Rattle. Nothing.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath before getting out of the car. Logan’s van is gone, but Sandy is luckily still there.
“Is there a mechanic in this town?”
“What’s wrong?”
“My car won’t start.”
“Umm, there is one on the outskirts of town. But we don’t really use it.” I shoot her a confused look. “The guy who owns it is kind of sketchy. Her voice turns to a whisper. “There are rumors he’s in a gang.”
I contemplate my options for a second. I could call David; he usually took care of the car. But I would rather risk getting involved in gang activity than admit I need his help. “I’ll take my chances. Can you drop me off there?”
“You sure?” She eyes me warily.
“Yup. I need to pick up my kids from school in a couple of hours. I need the car.”
“Fine. Get in.”
I make myself comfortable in the passenger seat of her car, which she, unlike myself, starts on the first try.
Right after the exit sign from Ocean’s Harbor, an abandoned-looking garage sits on the side of the road.
There are a few massive motorcycles parked out front, and a guy wearing a leather jacket, even though it’s almost summer, climbing one of them before driving off.
“See?” Sandy nudges my shoulder.
“Yup, thank you for the ride.” I open the door, but she grabs me by the wrist.
“Wait! I can’t let you go in there alone.” She unbuckles her seatbelt and gets out before taking Stella out and placing her in the stroller.
I have half of mind to giggle at her dramatics, but I’m quite touched she would risk her and her baby’s life to keep me safe.
She steels herself before we enter, taking a deep breath, and I roll my eyes. Between the two of us, I’m the realist. This is a small coastal town, not a high-crime city filled with gangs. And I couldn’t care less about what the mechanic does in his free time as long as he fixes my car.
Sandy’s gasp snaps me out of my thoughts. Alarms blare through my system. Maybe Sandy was right?
Instead, she pinches my arm, whispering, “He’s hot.”
“You’re an idiot,” I say, my body slowly relaxing.
But when I pick my gaze up, I barely contain my own gasp. The guy’s not hot. No, he’s TikTok Viking, wood chopping, thirst trapping hot.
Long, dirty blond hair, thick beard, his shoulders the width of my fridge. And the tattoos, did I mention the tattoos ?
We both ogle him like deer caught in headlights and he stares right back with a piercing blue gaze.
Finally, he speaks, “Can I help you?” The sentence is polite, but the tone of his voice is low and gravelly. More of a warning than an actual question.
“Yes,” Sandy pants out, and I jump in to save the day.
“Yes. Well, I hope so.” Smooth. “My car won’t start. And I need it. To pick my kids up.” I point my thumb back, though I have no idea what direction I’m pointing at. “From school.” Dear brain, can I please stop talking? Now.
Luckily, my brain shows me mercy and I say nothing else. He’s still staring at me, like he’s trying to figure me out.
“How did you get here?”
“My sister drove me.” I point to Sandy, who’s basically drooling. “My car is still in front of my house, unfortunately.”
“It’d be hard to fix, since it’s not here.” He shrugs, bending down under the hood of the car he’s obviously working on. Not that I even noticed it when I first walked in.
“Well, yes. You’d have to come with. To fix it,” I say.
He doesn’t lift his head from under the hood, and nerves wreak havoc on my stomach.
“Look,” Sandy interferes, “my sister needs your help. She’s recently divorced,” I level her with a glare, but it doesn’t stop her, “trying to survive as a single mother. She’s lonely and horny and forced to do everything on her own now. Besides, she’s willing to pay well for it.”
I elbow her in the arm because she took this way too far, but he finally lifts his head, along with a single brow, wiping his huge hands on an already dirty rag.
“Hmmpft.” He lets out an incomprehensible sound.
“Please,” I add, because I’m desperate.