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With Jesse, I’m telling myself a bold-faced lie if I pretend my heart isn’t singing and dancing in the rain right now.
Oh well. You can’t bungee jump without trusting your rope.
Actually, you could just… not bungee jump, I guess. But we’re not going to dwell on that.
We pull up to a mechanic’s shop that backs up to a large hill. The patchy grass is littered with rusted cars on flat tires and partially assembled tractors and other large machinery.
There’s a muscular guy covered in grease, half-buried under the hood of a big truck in the bay of the garage. A little boy I’d guess is seven or eight and a girl who looks maybe five are taking turns spinning each other in a torn up old office chair.
“Hey, Mikey,” Jesse says as he pulls open the door for me.
I have to admit I like how Jesse always opens doors for me. He’s my own personal grumpy gentleman. My secret boyfriend grumpy gentleman. My grouchy… okay, no. I get the impression he’s avoiding labels. I’m all about rolling with things right now.
Mikey straightens. He’s a big, handsome man with short, dark hair and a series of scars on his tanned face. One runs up into his scalp, drawing a bright white line up through his hairline. Another crosses his upper lip to his chin. The last one I notice is on his neck, disappearing beneath the fabric of his white tank.
“Hey, Jesse. Caroline called and said you’d be coming. She mentioned you two wouldn’t mind babysitting the kids tonight. You guys are sure?”
Jesse shoots me a don’t you dare agree to this kind of look.
“Meet your emergency babysitters!” I announce
Mikey hesitates, then gives his kids another look. The little girl just yanked on the back of the office chair and sent her brother spilling to the ground. They’re both rolling around yelling at each other and throwing punches. At least the boy looks like he’s mostly just slapping and not actually trying to hurt his sister. I think.
“You think you guys can handle them?” he asks.
“I have lots of babysitting experience,” I say. “And I brought some muscle along.” I elbow Jesse’s ribs.
“We’ll manage,” Jesse says. “How long are you going to be gone?”
Mikey picks up a greasy rag and wipes his hands. I’m not sure how he expects to get clean by wiping his hands on an already filthy rag, but he’s definitely trying. He lets out a tired sigh. “Hard to say. I got called down to the city for some legal shit. Angie is on another one of her kicks and she’s trying to get the kids back. I’m meeting with a lawyer in town.”
“We got you,” Jesse says. “By the way. Any good news on Andi’s car?”
Mikey sucks at his teeth. “That depends what kinda news you consider good. Would the idea of selling it for scrap be good? Because that’s pretty much all you’ve got on your hands. Frame is completely cracked and trashed. It’s as totaled as totaled gets. I thought maybe I had something lying around that I could repurpose, but it’s past that.”
“That’s a bummer,” I say. “I guess Jesse is going to remain my personal driver for the foreseeable future. Sorry.” I give his arm a squeeze.
He grimaces. I can’t say if it’s because of the news about the car or the fact that he’ll have to keep acting as my driver.
“Thanks for taking a look, anyway. What do I owe you?” Jesse asks.
Mikey waves his hand. “We’re good. Besides, you’re going to be more than paying me back by watching the rugrats.
”Thanks,” Jesse says. “Go take care of your thing. Need to borrow my truck?”
Mikey shakes his head. “Nah. I got the old girl running again last week. Thanks, though.”
Mikey crouches in front of his kids, who are still rolling and fighting on the dirty floor of his garage. He grabs each by the back of their shirts and pulls them apart like an animal taking its young by the scruff. He lifts them easily, setting them a few feet apart, then raises a warning finger. “These nice folks are going to watch you while I’m gone. Understand? You be nice to them. No trouble.”
The kids give him big, innocent eyes and nod their heads.
“Alright, come here you little gremlins.” He pulls both kids in for a hug, then stands up and wipes his hands on his jeans, which are also covered in some dark greasy oil.
I decide I’m getting this man a Christmas present, and it’s going to be a giant bag of clean towels.
“Good luck with the lawyer!” I call after him.
“Thanks. Oh, feel free to take the kids to your cabin, Jesse. They love it there and might be easier to handle.”
