Page 18 of Sweet Nothing


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Sinking down on my haunches, I wiped my hand over the baby-shit-green paint that had marred the front left fender.

“What did she do to you?” I did my best to brush away the flecks of paint before standing, blowing out a heavy breath. Avery’s Prius was part of Mabeline now. They couldn’t be more different, but now they shared the same story. I could buff the hell out of it and repaint, but I kind of liked the smudge from Avery. She’d left her mark on me, too.

“Looks like I need to make a trip down to the junkyard and find you a new headlight. You are in no shape to take on a date.”

Digging my phone from my pocket, I swiped my finger over the screen so I could check the time. The junkyard wouldn’t be open for a few more hours, and if I knew Bud, he wouldn’t be pulling parts until he walked his partner, Dusty, down to Emerson’s Country store to get his morning coffee.

If I left early, I could grab us some joe on the way and maybe get Bud moving with a breakfast sandwich. I only had one day to get everything in order.

I wasn’t worried, though. I had practically built Mabeline with my own two hands over the past six years. She had been my dream car since I was a boy, and I knew every inch of her frame. I could have her looking as good as new in no time. I’d always enjoyed working with my hands and fixing things, people included. As an added bonus, it was cheaper than therapy. There was hardly anything a little grease and hard work couldn’t cure.

I rolled my neck from shoulder to shoulder, relishing in the relief from stretching my tight neck muscles. I was still sore from the accident, and I wondered why Avery didn’t seem to be in any pain at all. I was actually looking forward to figuring her out.

The hardest part would be planning our date. Avery probably hadn’t set the bar very high for me. Like any confident, sensible woman, she had taken one look at my scruffy face and grease-stained hands and seen trouble. But she was wrong about me.

Pulling open the driver side door, I slipped inside my car and turned the key. Stepping on the gas pedal, I made her roar, relieved that the only damage seemed to be cosmetic.

The drive across town was peaceful. Bud owned a large swath of property just outside Philadelphia, and even though the city was close by, it felt like another world. Amish buggies clogged the roads as they made their way to their vegetable markets, the relentless summer heat failing to slow them down.

I waved as I passed an older man who held the reins. Nodding, his beard rubbed against his plain, hand-sewn shirt.

The horse didn’t startle as my engine roared louder, thanks to its blinders that kept it focused on the road ahead.

Slowing as I crossed three small hills, I turned down the old dirt drive to Bud’s junkyard. I hadn’t lived in Pennsylvania long, but Bud was one of the first people I’d met when I’d arrived in town with an oil leak and no place to stay. He had let me crash on his couch until I was able to find an apartment and a new start.

“Didn’t think you’d be up.” I closed my car door behind me before I crossed the dusty lot.

Bud was inside a rickety carport, wiping the grease from his hands onto an old rag. “Timing’s off.” He pointed to the old beat up Chevy in front of him. “Get in and let me use the timing gun.”

Slipping inside the car, I turned the key, revving the engine while I waited for Bud to give me the signal. After a few curse words, he slammed the hood closed and I got out, shaking my head.

“What brings you to my neck of the woods so early?” He didn’t even glance up at me as he spoke.

“Mabeline has seen better days.” We both walked toward my car, and I leaned into the driver’s window, pulling out the two coffees and fast food breakfast.

“Aw hell, son. What did you do?” He snatched a coffee from my hand and began to drink the scolding liquid without as much as a thank-you. I stifled a laugh as it dribbled down his three-day scruff and blended into the stains of his old gray T-shirt.

“Got in a fight with a Prius.”

Bud’s eyes widened before he shook his head. “I’d hate to see how that faired against this beast.”

“You think I can pull a headlight?”

“I’ll have Russel grab it for you and you can pick it up when you stop by again.”

“Actually, I need it today. I have … plans later.”

“She must be something special if you’re fixing to pick her up in Mabeline.”

I didn’t answer, trying to hide my smirk by drinking a sip of coffee, and burning my lip in the process.

“You know where everything is,” he mumbled as he grabbed the bag of food from my hand and retreated to the dilapidated single-wide trailer at the edge of the lot.

Hours had passed, and my body was coated in sweat and grime, but Mabeline was parked outside my apartment, finally looking like her old self. I slipped into my shower, moaning as the cold water cascaded over my tired, tender muscles. Avery and our date drifted into my thoughts as I scrubbed off the hard work of the day. I expected her to give me shit about every detail throughout the night, so everything had to be perfect.

I’d already picked out a royal-blue button-down and dark blue jeans. I didn’t own Italian shoes like Doc Rose, but I could still clean up pretty nice. After shaving my face, I almost looked like the type of guy a girl could take home to her mother. Almost.

I hurried through getting ready and put down a plate of food for Dax before heading out the door.

I knew Avery would be exhausted after her shift, so dancing was out of the question, no matter how badly I wanted to feel her body pressed against mine again.

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