Page 80 of Midlife Crisis

“I was drunk.” My head shakes, rattled as if she struck me. Her hands come for my biceps as I step back. “Fine. You’re right. I would say yes, but not like this, not because you only want to help me.” Her eyes search my face, distress in them like the pain in my rusty armor chest. Squeaking like the Tin Man, I realize I’m nobody’s knight. Never will be.

34

Seduction junction, what’s your function

Midge

Hank looks crushed after I reject his offer. It was a generous suggestion, but not one I could take in good conscience. He earned that money, and as he just discovered he still had it, I didn’t need him sharing it with me. I meant what I said; if we were married, it would be different, but we weren’t married, and I certainly wasn’t marrying him for money. It wasn’t the reason I was with him. In fact, Hank is very aware I had no idea who he was or how he was famous. I didn’t care about that—what he once was. I only want him in the present.

With this thought in mind, I decide I want to show him how I feel about him. I have a Mom’s Night function at the high school where I only need to make an appearance before I can escape. He’s been working late at the garage the past few days. We’ve fallen into a routine of him sneaking over to my house whenever he can and staying as long as he thought respectable, but I feel us separating.

The actual garage is a place I rarely visit. I don’t understand the parts, the terminology, or the mechanics of the automobiles. I just want four wheels and an engine to make my car go where I desire. Hank has a special project, and Brut mentions he’ll most likely be found at Restored Dreams working on it when I call Brut after Hank isn’t answering his phone.

It’s late April in California, and this means rain. I’m happy with the weather this evening as I need my old dress-length raincoat to pull off my plan as well as a stiff dose of liquid courage and a shot of confidence. I pass on the alcohol and take a deep breath instead. I have keys to the outer office and find Hank right where Brut suggests—bent over his black Mustang, the hood open and his head buried inside. Heavy music rains down inside. Something velvety, loud, and pulsing, the beat matches the rush in my heart and the thump at my core. My fingers fidget as I tug at the belt of the coat. Because of the music, he doesn’t hear my heels as I cross the cement floor.

I touch his shoulder and step back in anticipation. I knew I’d startle him.

“Holy fuck.” One hand covers his chest while the other holds up some kind of wrench, primed and ready to fight off his attacker. His eyes rapidly run from one to the other of mine, then he drops the metal item and tugs me to him. “You scared the ever-loving shit out of me.”

I chuckle into his chest, inhaling his scent. Man. Oil. Hank. I’ve missed him the past few days with his distance, and I melt a little into his hold, relieved to be in his arms again. Then he presses me away from him, and the heat between us is gone too quickly.

“What the hell are you doing here? I thought you had some lady thing tonight.” He steps back, taking in my appearance. The plum-colored trench coat covers me. My legs bare, leading down to my black heels. His eyes narrow, and he takes a deep breath. I reach out for him, afraid he’ll retreat too far away. My hands make contact with his forearm.

“I figured since you were avoiding me, I’d have to get your attention somehow.” My body trembles, and I feel like a psycho ex-lover, like Glenn Close in the movie where she has an affair and then boils the bunny rabbit. I won’t be ignored. Cripes, I’m losing my shit over this man.

“I’m not avoiding you.” I dismiss the sharpness in those words.

“I want to apologize for the other day.” His lips twist, and he crosses his arms. His biceps bulge under the black t-shirt. My hand follows the fold, refusing to let go of him until he listens to me, and I get what I want because right now, my body hums for him, aching for something only he can give me. I want to give to him as well. “I know I hurt your feelings by not accepting your gift—”

“I’m not hurt,” he interjects, the roughness of his tone not disguising the truth. I hold up a hand to halt him from speaking.

“And I’m sorry. I want you to understand I never meant to hurt you. I understand why you did it. Why you offered. You’re a generous man. Offering something like that…” I squeeze his forearm and cover my chest with my free hand. “You have no idea how much it touched me that you wanted to give me something like that. Such a gift. Your show of faith. It means a lot that you believe in me so much you are willing to part with something you didn’t know you had.”

“You know I’d do anything for you,” Hank says, his voice smoky. He swallows, emotion in his throat.

“I know. It’s why I feel the way I do about you.” With that, I release his arm, taking a deep breath. I need to reroute. Focus, I tell myself. You got this. “This is your baby, right? Is it safe to look inside?” I muster courage I’m suddenly not certain I possess, but I’m not backing down. I want this too much.

Hank’s brow pinches. He showed me his black beauty once, explaining to me all about it in jargon I didn’t understand, but this large piece of machinery is important to him. And powerful looking, like him. I open the driver’s door, flip the seat forward, and climb in the back.

The music in the garage dulls only a little inside the large space, which smells of old leather and forgotten years. My hands smooth over the black interior, feeling the soft, worn material before I slide to one side of the seat and turn to face the open door.

“Why don’t you join me a second?” I peer toward where Hank is leaning—one arm on the doorframe, the other on the roof. “It feels spacious back here.”

I spread my arm along the back of the seat. I slip off my heels while Hank watches me, his eyes following every movement of my hand sliding off one shoe and then the other. Taking another deep breath, I lift one leg, positioning it on the back seat. I shiver as my foot hits the cool leather and at the heat in Hank’s eyes. His quiet ruffles my nerves, but I won’t give up. My coat slips open over my thigh just the right amount to reveal what I’m wearing underneath.

“What the fuck you doing, little lady?” His voice teases, and a growl rolls through his tone. He’s still watching me, not making any attempt to move from the position where he stands.

“It’s a little warm in here.” My eyes don’t leave his as I unloop the belt and unbutton one button at a time. One. Two. Three. Four. I slip the material to the side only the slightest bit and notice Hank run a hand over his face. Two fingers swipe around his mouth and stroke down his neck.

“Middy,” he groans.

“Join me,” I purr, the sound low but pleading. I’m on the verge of thinking he isn’t interested in what I’m offering as he hasn’t moved. My coat slips farther open, exposing the thigh length slip of material hardly containing my breasts and hitched up enough on my hips to reveal the lace covering my lower region. He stares.

“Why are you doing this?” The question stops me, and my eyes sting. Lowering my leg, I press my thighs together. I tug the fallen side of my coat over my shoulder. It’s obvious he isn’t going to act on what I’m offering despite the steely glaze in his eyes. If he has to ask me why, I probably shouldn’t be doing this.

“I guess…I thought…maybe I should just go.” Who knew money would be a breaking point in our relationship? I’m sitting upright when he climbs into the back seat. His presence fills the space.

“Midge, what are you really doing here?”