Chapter 9 #2
How did I even get here? I’m with his seventy-something-year-old great aunt having all kinds of sweaty unclean thoughts about my neighbor who is not my fiancé.
What’s wrong with me?
Is Poison playing somewhere? Just in my head?
Inhale. Exhale.
Blink. I should blink.
Aunt Judy answers his “loves who?” question, probably aware that I’m in no condition to do so. “Bret Michaels, sweetheart. Why are you so sweaty?”
Dang, she’s smooth. If I weren’t already deceased, I’d die laughing.
He grins, messy hair releasing beads of sweat down his face and chest faster than he can wipe it with the shirt he’s still not wearing.
“Yeah, she likes old guys. We were listening to a great song earlier. I forgot about it until she sang it to me. A classic,” that son of a biscuit says straight-faced as he subtly winks at me.
How does he do that? Most guys look stupid when they wink. He does it constantly, and I nearly choke on my own spit every time.
Forget it. I hate him. I can’t say words so I can’t tell him, but I officially hate him. That’s a bad call, hit by pitch, balk, blocking the play at home plate, pitching with a sticky substance, and every other dirty play—bringing up the hallway song while shirtless.
This is not regular shirtless. This is shirtless 2.0. He looked good before. I can admit that. But this isn’t good. This is wow. Someone, throw him out of this game immediately and get him a freaking shirt before I die a second death right here. Are there no rules?
“The guys said they were finished with her car in the garage where it was cool and told me to back it into the driveway.” I blink, helplessly following the shirt he wipes over his neck and chest as he speaks.
“Then they decided I needed to air her tires and get under the car to be sure there were no oil leaks. I think they were just making sure I remembered how, but it’s ninety degrees out there! ”
That’s true, but even in my altered mental state, I know he’s enjoying this.
Aunt Judy chuckles. “Well, you knew they’d give you a hard time. You still have some clothes in the blue room. Go clean up. We’re having a fabulous time.”
“Give me fifteen minutes and we’ll head out, okay, Lu?
” He throws the soaked shirt over his shoulder and laces his hands together through his hair to hold it off his face.
Every muscle in his torso flexes like he’s some kind of freaking underwear model, giving me a clear view of all the late-night reading I desperately want to get started on.
Determined not to study him now, I just nod and turn toward Aunt Judy in the most obvious possible way.
I’m calling him so many words—bad, bad words—in my head, and he has the audacity to squeeze my shoulder before heading down the hallway.
“Breathe, honey,” she says with amused satisfaction. “I think that was your sign, don’t you?”
She laughs and moves closer to hug me.
“A sign-stealing scandal,” I mutter, doubtful she understands the baseball reference.
“If that doesn’t solve ninety percent of life’s problems, nothing does.
” She raises her eyebrows at me with a knowing look.
“We got some good genes.” She grins, and her eyes crinkle at the corners, reminding me of someone else.
“Even better, the boys are late bloomers, so they don’t get too cocky about it when they’re young,” she says as she squeezes me.
There’s nothing left but to shake my head in defeat.
I’ll hear about this for the foreseeable future.
He knows exactly what he did.
He comes back wearing a vintage Cheap Trick T-shirt that looks like it could be an original. His defined chest and shoulders show through the worn material more than the one he had on before. “I Want You to Want Me” plays from the soundtrack of my inner thoughts, and it’s just so wrong.
My friend’s mom collects vinyl, and she played the heck out of Cheap Trick’s Budokan album when we were in high school. I loved it up until right now.
Now I hate it.
“We should get going. I have to load our gear for the coffee shop, Punk.” He plops down with an arm behind me, which wouldn’t have affected me an hour ago, but this day has gotten way out of hand, and we still have a long evening of togetherness ahead.
“Okay then!” I jump up like the couch is on fire. “Thank you so much for everything. I’ll get my wallet to pay the guys.”
Aunt Judy and Daniel stand. She hugs Daniel and reaches for me.
“Lucy, I just know we’re going to be friends for a long time. Let’s exchange numbers and keep in touch!”
“Do you text?” I ask, before thinking.
“Of course, sweetheart. I can manage all sorts of strings, keys, and buttons. I’m a professional.” She smiles knowingly.
I pull my phone out to type in her number and send her a text with my name, so she’ll have mine too. “Thank you again. This was so much fun.”
She picked me apart, but I can’t help but love her. She wants what’s best for us.
“Wait, Lu.” He tugs my arm. “Come here.”
He pulls me to a keyboard, caging me in front of him, and pulls my right hand up to the keys.
“I meant to show you this earlier. The basic hook is C major. Thumb on C, first here on E and middle here on G.” He rests his chin on my shoulder and guides my hand under his for a rough tutorial of “Home Sweet Home.”
Any other day, this would be completely educational and not at all sensual.
Okay, even I know I’m lying now. We might as well make out right here in front of his aunt.
It’s like he has the key to the mental diary of all my nerdy fantasies, and he’s determined to check off the whole list in one day.
I feel every syllable he says near my ear and every degree of heat rolling off his body behind me.
I’m trying to focus on the subject at hand, but I haven’t had much sleep in the last twenty-four hours.
His proximity starts an internal war. I’m fighting equal urges to get away from him and climb inside his shirt like a baby kangaroo.
He knows it, too.
This is probably payback for the hallway.
“It’s easy. Remind me to teach you the rest later. I bet you’d nail the vocal.”
I could sing it well enough if he’d back away, but I can’t do anything except grunt in cavegirl with him standing so close.
“Yeah, I can sing it,” I mumble, wondering what caused this sudden tension. Maybe the strip show I can never unsee.
I retrieve my wallet, though Daniel insists they will not take my money. The uncles are taking it easy in the air-conditioned garage, watching a day game in recliners next to a mini fridge and a pool table.
“This is a sweet setup. I really appreciate you both. What do I owe you?” I ask, relieved to distract myself with baseball for a minute.
The men scurry to their feet to say their goodbyes.
“You don’t owe us nothin’,” Uncle Pete says. “The parts were covered. We got to harass our boy for a bit and meet his pretty girl. A little work keeps us old men sharp.”
Uncle Dale side-squeezes me and gives Daniel a manly handshake and one-armed hug.
“He says you like baseball, so we made him promise to bring you back soon for dinner and a game. So that’s what you owe us, Princess.
As long as you’re not a Yankees fan.” He tips his head down to study my reaction over his glasses.
“Watch your filthy mouth!” I tease back. “Are you sure? I was prepared for at least six hundred dollars.” I look back and forth between all of them.
They all wave me off and tell me there’s nothing to pay for, which I know is not true, but I’m grateful. I thank them again and promise to come back to visit.
Daniel opens my door to lean inside and start it. “You go ahead of me, and I’ll follow you the same way we did before in case you have any problems.”
He’s getting bossy again. I wish I hated it.
“Yes, sir. Hey …” I look up at him. “Did you buy the parts? Because I have the money. I can handle it.”
“I know you can handle it, but you don’t always have to do it alone. We had a problem, and we solved it, right? That’s all that matters.” His words make me swallow hard.
We?
Looking directly into his eyes is risky, because eww, feelings, but Annie said it, and I can’t get past it now. “Why do you always take care of me?”
Most people are understandably attached to a few hundred dollars and a whole afternoon of their time.
“I was able to help with this, so I did. If you had a connection to save me some money, you’d do the same thing.
” He shrugs like it’s nothing and starts to walk back to his car, but I reach out and pull him back to me.
I hug him quickly, because it’s scorching hot out here, and whisper a thank-you into his ear.
“You’re the best. You know that?”
“I try.” He grins sheepishly.
“Do you? Because I think it’s just who you are.”
He pulls me forward by my ears and dramatically kisses the top of my head like he always does, then heads to his car without any more icky eye contact.
“I’m stopping at the store,” I call out as he walks. “You can follow me that far and then I should be fine.”
“All right. See you tonight, Punk.”
Oh, my goodness. I have to do this again.
I don’t think I have the strength.