Chapter 18
ELIAS
”Where did you put the tape measure? I”m heading out to the barn to work today.”
I announced my intention like we”d been married for years. I needed to remember this was her house, not mine. ”Does that work for you, Abigail?” I said amending tone of voice.
Abigail had been up since dawn watching online shows about Best Bed Breakfast Meals That Keep Them Coming Back. Compliments of Amy, her pet chicken, fresh eggs were deposited into the new-and-improved nest made from an old basket and straw. Amy the Great provided our breakfast and would be a great asset to Abigail”s new business, especially if Abigail agreed to another chicken as a companion for Amy, thus producing more eggs. I approved of Amy one hundred percent until she began bawking in the morning. One slip and that bird was dinner. I”m not a fan of being jarred awake. Besides, didn”t a rooster own that job?
Abigail slipped off her earbuds and looked over to me. ”What?” she deadpanned.
Oblivious to my request, I did a one-eighty turn and tried again. ”Tape measure. Barn. Going now. You coming?” For effect, I raised my eyebrows and pressed my lips together, waiting for a response.
”Ooh! Are we going to fix my car? Why do you need a tape measure?” She genuinely had no idea what the tape measure was for. From her perspective, I suppose she had no idea what my plans were for that space. Of course, she was confused. I”d been planning and positioning equipment in my head for the past week. The tricky part was knowing what kind of work area she”d enjoy.
She walked to the last drawer in the center island, reached in, and pulled out the tape measure. ”Here you go,” she said casually.
I walked past her and grabbed her hand. ”Come on, let”s get that clunker running,” I said.
We worked together, unloading my tools from my truck and carting them down the path to the barn. From the back of the house, you could barely see the corner of the structure, although the weathervane at the top was clear as day. I suppose that would be helpful from the kitchen window to know what the winds looked like.
My plan included a thorough lube, oil, and filter. Then, a coolant flush. I”d top off all the fluids and then crank the ignition. This car would start without more work if I addressed all the basics. That was wishful thinking. I had no idea how long this car had been sitting in the barn. After my initial inspection, my suspicions were correct. She”d need a new fan belt, brakes, rust removed from the brake pad rotors, and, if all went well, this piece of shit would sing like a star. It took a little ingenuity, but I found a parts supplier with everything I needed to make this 2005 Buick Skylark renovation happen as soon as next week. Abigail texted me that a giant box arrived yesterday and was delivered to the barn as requested. I unpacked my tools, unloaded my air compressor from my truck, and got to work on the L.O.F.
In the process of my work, today became Abigail”s first course in car maintenance and restoration. I explained how to drain the oil, and she learned that not having the pan placed directly under the drain plug would douse her in oil.
”What the fuck, Elias!” It was like a comedy skit watching her mouth gaping in astonishment and then rolling around on the floor, thinking she was on fire.
Her second lesson was how to replace a battery. After her insistence on changing the oil herself, I put my foot down on her handling the battery on her own. I couldn”t take the chance of her killing herself.
”There is an order to disconnect and reconnect a battery,” I lectured. ”The proper sequence could mean life or death.” I pursed my lips and nodded, insinuating I was the master of this process. (Except I was. I had a degree to prove it.) ”Put your hands over mine and say the order of the removal process.”
”Left, then right.”
”Good. Now lift the battery out.” Okay, she toppled over like a teapot, trying to lift it from its cradle. My bad.
”Aahh!” Her legs flipped in the air, and I grabbed her hips just in time for her to stamp a strip of oil across her forehead and cheek. I swallowed hard. Seeing my girl covered in motor oil and grease was a huge fucking turn-on. I”m such a gearhead.
”Sorry about that, princess. I forgot to tell you how heavy that thing is.” I reached into my back pocket, pulled out my phone, and snapped a picture of her messy face. Satisfied, I used the rag to clean off the oil, hoping she wouldn”t punch me in the nose.
”Are you okay?”
She grabbed me by my flannel shirt and pulled me to her lips. I didn”t move until I felt the soft, wet tip of her tongue press between my lips. Her exhale sparked a flame deep in my groin, and I gathered her ass in my hands, carried her around to the trunk of the car, and set her down gently.
”You better not post that picture on social media, or your nuts will hang from my rearview mirror,” she threatened. I crossed my heart and used my fingers to make a scout”s honor sign, pressing her back to the hood for another kiss.
”This is not part of today”s itinerary, Abigail.” I choked out between kisses.
”You need to be flexible, Professor. Things pop up. You have to deal with them.” She licked my neck to my ear, whispering, ”Your student needs special care only you can provide.”
I groaned. ”Fuck, Abby. If you want special treatment, you”ve got it. Don”t tell your friends that your teacher is a pervert.”
”Pervert, Elias?” She pulled back, confused.
I cleared my throat and shook my head—stupid words. Always getting in the way. ”Let me rephrase, horny as fuck was what I meant to say.” Her eyes widened, and her wicked smile was the green light I was waiting for.
I pulled out my wallet with a fresh condom, waggling my brows that I was prepared this time, and yanked my pants down to my ankles. While she pushed her sweats off, I was busily sheathing myself, and, by the time I was finished, her legs were wide open. I froze, taking in the gorgeous display from her face to her pussy. What I wouldn”t do to take a picture of that.
”Take me, Elias.” Like a starter”s gun firing, I mounted her with one purpose in mind: ecstasy.
I felt like a damn caveman grunting and rutting against her wanton pussy. She tore at my hair and encouraged me not to stop. Trust me, I had no intention of stopping.
”You”re so fucking big! I love it!” Her pleasure was the only thing on my mind. I basked in her ability to trust me, letting me do with her what I wanted. And, fuck, I wanted to do everything with her.
The stretch my cock made on her pussy lips was sinful. My eyes rolled into my head, relishing the slippery glide of our union. Every sound heightened my desire, and, before I knew it, I was ready to blow.
”Are you there?” I implored her.
”Yes! Yes, now!” she cried.
I pushed her legs to her shoulders and drove my cock even deeper. Our voices echoed off the walls as we came together, panting with pleasure.
”Fuuuck!” My release almost brought me to my knees, it was so perfect. This woman was going to kill me, and I”d die willingly, knowing it was her who did it.
Moments passed, and I rolled off her. Both of us stared at the rafters, giggling together. Me, a grown-ass man. Giggling made me laugh even harder. I couldn”t tell you why Abigail was laughing, but acting like a couple of teenagers fucking on a car in a barn in the middle of the day sure had me grinning ear to ear.
I helped Abigail to a seated position, and every time our eyes connected, we laughed again.
She pushed her hair back behind her ears, rolling her lips into her mouth.
”I think I should re-enroll in this class again just to be sure I caught all the nuances of car maintenance. I rather enjoyed the final exam.” She extended her neck forward and dropped her face into her hands, chortling. She was adorable.
I arranged myself back into my pants, stepped up to her crumbled form, and pulled her into my chest. I rubbed her back in slow circles, enjoying her humming each time I completed a full turn.
”Yeah, about that. No more lessons for you today, or you”ll need to keep that rental.”
I rubbed her upper arms and pulled her back to see her mischievous hazel eyes. ”Go and find something else to distract yourself with. How about cutting down those overgrown plants in the garden? I”ll come out soon and help you figure out what weeds and actual plants are. And don”t forget to put your pants on.” I couldn”t help myself. ”How about we plant a small tree so you can watch it grow?”
She slid down the trunk and straightened herself out. Her head hung like a petulant child. ”I”d rather you plant something else in my garden.”
Damn, girl! ”Out!” I bellowed. My resolve might have been shrinking when she was around, but my dick was painfully growing in awareness of how naughty this woman could be.
My stomach gurgled angrily. I was so busy working that I didn”t realize I hadn”t eaten. Walking past the garden, I overheard a conversation I thought I”d never hear.
”You have no idea how lucky you have it, Amy. I honestly have no idea where you came from, and I don”t care. You”re like Elias, except you lay eggs instead of fixing stuff.”
She pulled at some weeds and tossed them into the wheelbarrow—very clever, princess. Amy strutted in a circle, displaying her bright yellow plumage.
”You think you”re prettier than he is? No offense, girl, but did you see his muscles? How about that mechanical tattoo? It looks like it”s real when he moves his elbow. It”s so cool. Oh, and those thick, strong thighs? If you saw those babies in action, you”d squirt out a dozen eggs.” Geezus.
Amy scratched at the dry earth, demonstrating how strong her skinny chicken legs were—at least, that”s what I think she was doing. Abigail, bless her soul, kept the conversation going.
”Yes, ATG. Your legs are great, too.” She reached to pet that dumb bird, and Amy let her! Did she think she was a dog? Or a cat, for God”s sake? The way she rolled her neck against Abigail”s hand was exactly how my childhood dog did.
”You better wash your hands when you”re done giving your bird a massage.” I cracked myself up, and kept walking toward the house.
”Jealous!” Abigail launched at me.
”Bu-gawk!” Amy echoed, and I repeated the annoying sound back.
How the hell did I end up in this chicken coop paradigm?
I quickly made two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and washed a few apples. After filling my water bottle, I collected my lunch and ate it on my way back to the barn.
”Lunch is on the counter. Don”t forget to eat.” I don”t think she heard me. She ranted about who knows what while Amy continued nodding and flaring her red crown.
I was ready for my first attempt at turning over the engine and prayed that was all it needed. To my dismay, the engine sputtered and died several times before it occurred to me that perhaps I should check the gas tank—empty, of course. Some engineer I am.
I looked around for a gas can, finding one—a little dented but still workable. Now it was a trip to the gas station. Wasting time on this chore made me anxious. Maybe Abigail could go for me. I walked out to where I’d left her and found her sitting alone.
”Did Amy”s mom call and ask her to come home?” I cleared my throat, trying not to laugh.
”Ha. Ha. It was her father who called,” she deadpanned. ”Where are you going?”
She followed me into the house, where I noticed her lunch on the counter. Not on my watch. I felt like an old-world mother forcing food on her guests.
”Go and wash your hands. We”re going to the store, and you”re eating lunch on the way.”
Her eyes shot daggers. ”You”re not my father. You don”t get to tell me what to do.” Her hands were firmly placed on her hips as she stuck out her tongue. Little brat.
We stared each other down. I wasn”t budging, and it looked like she wasn”t either.
”You”re acting like a child.” I pointed a finger at her.
”You”re acting like an ass!” She pointed one back.
I grabbed my keys and wallet off the counter and stormed out the side door to my truck. I”d give her a chance to come to her senses; if not, I”d haul her over my shoulder. Didn”t she know that she needed to eat? Abigail constantly commented about how she thought she had a boy”s body. I, of course, disagreed. However, my opinion didn”t matter as much as her assessment of herself—such a girl thing.
The passenger door whipped open, and Abigail climbed into the cab. She looked like a stuck pig with an apple in her mouth and a PBJ in her wet hand. She”d get no style points from me, but she complied, and I was happy we could get on our way. It was a short drive to the village center and I let her eat her lunch silently.
She turned abruptly in her seat, and I was perplexed.
”Happy?” she hurled at me.
I paused. ”That you”ve eaten? Yes. That you don”t remember to eat? No?” My tone was admonishing on purpose. She needed to take better care of herself. All those years of insufficient food or money weren”t an excuse anymore. She could afford those things now and needed to do them regularly.
”Why are you so obsessed with me eating? Does it offend you in some way?” Her accusation was almost on the mark.
I rubbed my forehead, concerned that my next words might send me packing. I pulled into the gas station, turned in my seat, and made it a point to get her attention. She needed to see how earnest I was.
”I did some reading on your condition, ADHD. It”s common to forget to eat, take medications, or any number of things. It”s more than that, though. You”re an adult, Abigail. You have to take responsibility for your good health and well-being. I want that for you and would do anything to help you make that happen. It”s just . . .” Here was the hard part. ”You have commented about how you look, and I think eating more regularly would remedy that point of view. You”re hot, just as you are, but your opinion counts the most. I won”t bring it up again. Sorry.”
I turned and exited the vehicle. I chanced a look at her when I grabbed the gas can and closed the door. She twisted her fingers in her lap, biting her lips raw. I caught her looking at me through my peripheral vision but didn”t acknowledge the glance. At this point, I don”t know who I”m more angry with: me or her. Why was I making this my problem? I couldn”t care more than she did, right? I let it go. Over and done. Finito.
Topping off my tank and filling the portable gas can, I felt that I needed to repair the damage I had caused. I drove us to the hardware store, hoping Abigail would forgive me.
”Let”s pick out some things for your garden. Pots, seeds, gloves, soil.” She nodded. I grabbed a cart and headed to the garden section. “Have you thought about what vegetables you”d like to grow? I”m sure those recipes you”ve been looking at would taste even better with homegrown veggies.” I tried to sound encouraging, but she answered without excitement.
”Yeah. I guess. I”ll look at the seeds, and you can get whatever else you came here for.” Ouch.
I was dismissed, and she walked to the round stand with all the seeds on them, twirling them around haphazardly.
I shook my head sadly. I well and truly fucked this day up, I sure knew how to put my foot in my mouth for a guy who hardly says anything to anybody. I found a case of motor oil for both the car and the tractor in case she wanted me around to fix it, a couple of fifty-pound bags of potting soil, gardening gloves for both of us, a bag of kettle corn from the vendor outside, and, when she stepped up to the counter, four packets of seeds.
She still wasn”t talking to me, and it was time to clear the air.
”Can I take you for ice cream? I have a hankering for something sweet.” I didn”t wait for an answer as I held her door open. I dropped the tailgate and haphazardly chucked everything inside, shoving the door back into place with enough force that I may have bruised my shoulder.
”Only if you”re buying,” she sassed after waiting for me to return. I hoped she was softening up again. I didn”t want to spend our time arguing.
The Sugar Shoppe was similar to an old-style ice cream shop, except they sold chicken wings out of the back door. The back wall was filled with giant glass containers filled with candy, and the front counter was lined with various styles of glass sundae cups. The chalkboard menu listed thirty-seven flavors, and two additional boards described concoctions that simultaneously made my mouth salivate while my stomach turned smelling the grease from their kitchen. Who puts savory and sweet in the same store? Yuck!
We made our selections and sat at a table that could be found in a French bistro. We ate silently, though I could sense how loudly Abigail”s brain worked. Mine wasn”t any different. I had dozens of things I wanted to say and confess, except each could be labeled a minefield. I wanted to trust her to be levelheaded about each one, but that wasn”t who she was. Abigail was anything but levelheaded. Her adjectives could best be described as impulsive and sensitive, with a noun thrown in: firecracker! Mine were sensitive, tongue-tied, irreverent. I rather liked the last one, but not everyone gets that.
My stomach tightened, and I put my spoon down. She needed to hear some things, and if I didn”t bring these to her attention, then who would?
”Abigail. Give me your hands.” I needed to feel our connection and for her to feel the same way. Her eyes shot up, and she slowly put down her ice cream cup and spoon.
I closed my eyes, praying that everything from my mouth was appropriate and kind.
”I don”t know where to begin except to say I feel strongly about you. I didn”t ask before but would like to do so now. Would you like to date me?” My mind started to fry when her jaw dropped. What was going on in her head?
She squeezed my fingers, and hope rippled through my body.
”No one has ever asked me that before. I”m not stupid, but what does that mean—for us?
I interlaced my fingers through hers, keeping our eye contact strong. ”It means that I will come down and visit you every weekend that I can, and we will figure out what our likes and dislikes are together. It means that when you”re unhappy with me, or vice versa, we won”t run from each other but to each other. It”s a commitment, Abigail. An adult, levelheaded decision that consistently puts the other person”s priorities at the same level as our own. If we can do that, we might be discussing a more permanent arrangement in the future. Does this answer your question?”
I kissed the back of her right hand, enjoying the steady beating of her increasing pulse.
”So, you”d be my boyfriend, and I”d be your girlfriend . . . a, and we’d only date each other—wouldn”t?”
I chuckled. ”Yes. Exclusively.”
She hummed quietly as her eyes shifted left and right along the pattern on the table. Her leg bounced, and I got nervous. Minutes went by, and nervousness became anxiety. I breathed slowly, preparing to speak when she injected her reply.
”I”m afraid, Elias. I don”t think I can handle being rejected again. I like you so much, but I”m afraid you”ll get bored with me or think I”m too much work and leave me like everyone else has. I”m broken that way, and it hurts too damn much.”
She tried pulling her hands from mine, but I wasn”t having it.
”Would it make you feel better knowing I feel the same way? I”ve been hurt, too, Abigail, especially by my parents, the people who are supposed to stand by my side forever. And—as the woman from my last relationship said—I”m also pretty boring. I feel broken, too, but I don”t feel that way with you. You make me feel alive, and you”re never boring. Hardly. You challenge me, encourage me, and think I”m some mechanical genius. Of course, I am a genius, but you recognize that in me and aren”t insulted when I talk over your head. Okay, that sounded patronizing. Strike that, but you know what I”m saying, right?”
Oh my God, too many words. When have I ever used so many words?
Her leg stopped bouncing, and I felt a verdict coming in.
”Doesn”t it wig you out how similar we are? The fact that we found each other in this giant world is astounding. It seems predestined.” She put our intertwined hands on her forehead. ”I think we should at least try being in a relationship since the universe went to all the trouble.” She turned her face to kiss my hand, and a jolt of electricity shot me out of my seat. I let go of her hands in exchange for her body and lifted her into my arms, searing her lips on my own. She agreed to be mine, and we”d work everything else out later. I could feel layers of stale, putrid thinking fall off my body, readying itself for a metamorphosis. I was reborn and overjoyed to start a new adventure with Abigail that went beyond lust and favors. If we did it right, we”d put new roots into this property, making our future a jewel for all to adore.