Page 17 of Midlife Crisis

God, what he did to me. Or rather, what I did to myself with the guidance of his voice. I’m the self-proclaimed poster child of: Yes, indeed, you can get off from the smoky tone of a man. I giggle with the thought, but nerves hit me as I can see a young man speaking with someone who looks strangely similar to Hank with sharp white hair. His face is peppered with light scruff, contrasting with the starkness of his head as tufts of black fall among the silver on his jaw. He looks in my direction, and I turn my head. Maybe I’ve made a mistake.

“Hank,” I hear shouted through the glass panes and over the machinery. I peer down at myself. I’m dressed for work—heels, skirt, casual shirt—but I had nowhere to go and something I wanted to say in person. Fiddling with the cellophane topped box in my hands, I look down at the confection.

“What the hell?” a voice barks just outside the door, and my heart drops to my stomach. The office door flings open, and a big body fills the space.

“Midge?”

“I’m sorry.” I don’t know why those are the first words out of my mouth. Suddenly, I’m so sorry I’m here, tears prick my eyes. I turn to set the single cupcake box on the desk, determined to leave it, and go.

“Midge, I…what are you doing here?” I spin back to face him, but his eyes avert mine. He’s scrubbing his hair, making the short pieces stand upright as he looks out the office window. Two heads turn away the second I glance out the glass. Hank steps over to the blinds and roughly drags a hand down the vinyl slats. “Shit.”

“I’m sorry,” I apologize again. “I’ll just go.” I step forward, but he steps toward me, holding two grease covered hands up in my direction.

“No, just…I’m a little surprised.”

“Not a good surprise.” I shrug, swallowing hard. There would be nothing worse than bursting into waterworks before him, so I have to get out of here.

“No, little lady, an amazing surprise.” My head shoots up, and his curling lips reward me. I smile slowly in return, memories of the other night seeping into my head. “You just caught me off guard.” He steps for the desk, reaching around me for a cloth, and begins rubbing his fingers with it. His motions slow as he sees the pink box on the flat surface.

“Did you bring me a cupcake?” His eyes jump to mine.

“I wanted to thank you. For listening to me the other night.” He blinks, the removal of grease from his fingers stalled. He stares at me.

“You went to Because Cupcakes?” He peeks to my right. “And got me the double chocolate, chocolate chip with light chocolate, colored purple, frosting cupcake. My favorite.”

“Well, Lily said—” I stop short when his eyes hit mine again. Steel shimmers silver as they pinch at me.

“Is that how you found me?”

“Are you hiding?” I snap, uncertain where the directness came from. Shaking his head, he laughs, a deep rumble of a chuckle that jostles his whole body.

“Fuck no, I’m not hiding. I just… Why didn’t you call me to ask me where I am?” Good question and one I can’t exactly answer. One reason being because I wanted to surprise him. Two, because I wasn’t sure he’d want to see me. I mean, I did sort of use his voice to get off the other night. When I nearly collapsed after the second time, he talked me into stepping out of the tub and slipping into bed. Too tired to argue, I followed his directions. He wished me a good night, and I fell asleep with his voice echoing in my head. Maybe there’s a number three. I’m uncertain if I could use his number. Dating, or whatever we are doing, is new to me.

“I don’t know.” It’s the only honest answer I have.

“You look pretty,” he says, and I look down at myself again.

“Old habits die hard. I didn’t know what to do with myself today. I guess I need a new job.”

“Know anything about cars?” He chuckles.

“Nothing. If my car didn’t ding to remind me to fill the gas tank, I’d be at a loss.”

“Modern cars.” He scoffs, continuing to rub his fingers. I watch the pattern he forms, stroking up one and around the tip, dipping between two, and then curling around another. Strangely sensual, I’m focusing on his fingers for too long before my eyes lift to find him smiling at me. I swallow from the intensity.

“What do you do here?” I nod toward the closed window. The office is dim with no outside light.

“We restore and maintain classic cars. It was my father’s dream, his business. Now Brut, my older brother, owns it, and I work for him.” His tone saddens.

“Is this what you’ve always done?” Something tells me it’s not his dream.

“No.” The abruptness of his answer startles me, and he looks away again. Although I’m curious, his hesitation tells me not to pry. But I want to know things about this man. He finishes rubbing his hands and tosses the rag on the desk behind me. Stepping closer, I back up and bump into the desk at my back.

“You wanted to thank me, huh?” His voice returns to a playful tone. “What did I do to deserve your gratitude?” His lips curl, and those eyes sparkle. He’s teasing me. He takes a step forward and my hands brace on the edge of the surface. Another step and I’m gripping the desk, desperate for an anchor or I’m going to launch myself at this man. He smells of oil and man and something spicy, and I want his fragrance on me.

“The other night, you…” I can’t spell this out. The words jumble in my head. I want to tell him he distracted me in the most pleasant way and thank him for being so kind and supportive.

“The other night I wasn’t nearly close enough.” His hands cup my cheeks, overwhelming me with the smell of oil until his head dips and he kisses me. I like him kissing me. His mouth takes its time, savoring the corners and the curves. His tongue follows quickly, and I groan as it tangles with mine. “I don’t want to get your pretty clothes all dirty. Hop up on the desk for me.” He leans around me and brushes back the stack of papers. “Damn, Brut. He’s such a slob.”