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“Motherfucker,” I growl, kicking the side of the tractor.
“Whoa, easy, mate,” comes Jack’s annoying accent.
I roll my eyes even though he can’t see me as I throw the wrench into the toolbox beside me and grab a hammer. Holding it in both hands, I swing hard, smashing it down on the tire bolt with a satisfying clang.
“Jesus,” Jack says, walking around to the side where I’m currently crouched in front of a huge tire. “What the hell did it ever do to you?”
“It’s fucking stuck,” I mutter as I smash the hammer down again, before reaching for the wrench to try the bolt again. It gives a little this time, but still won’t budge, so I smash it once more with the hammer.
This time when I try it, it comes loose and I wrench it off, finally able to change out the tire that’s been fucked ever since I accidently rode over one of the metal pegs that helps hold the vines up. It feels like it’s been one fuck up after another these past few weeks and the last thing I need right now is Jack in here giving me shit about it.
When I finally turn to roll the dead tire away, Jack is standing watching me, arms crossed and a huge grin on his face.
“What?” I snap as I roll it toward the side of the shed.
“When’s the last time you got laid?”
I lean the tire against the wall, my eyes closing as I force myself to stay calm and remind myself that I actually do like this guy. Taking a long deep breath, I turn and face him. “And you’re asking me this why?” I ask, mirroring his pose.
Jack shrugs as he walks over to the new tire and starts moving it into position beside the tractor. “You seem tense,” he says as he tries to lift it.
He’s got no chance. The thing weighs a ton, so I move over to help him. “I’m not tense,” I reply as we both lift the tire and slide it onto the axle.
“You sure about that?” Jack asks, grinning. “I mean I know when I need to relieve a bit of—”
“Jack,” I say, a warning tone to my voice.
“What?” he asks, hands out as though he has no idea what I’m talking about.
I shake my head at him. “Just when I was starting to maybe like you,” I grumble.
Jack laughs, reaching for the wrench which he holds out to me. “Please, like you don’t already? We both know I’m impossible to resist. But seriously, Tommy, when?”
“Fuck’s sake,” I mutter under my breath as I start to screw on the bolts. “I don’t know. A few weeks ago,” I lie, knowing it’s been far longer than that.
Caitlyn and I broke up over six months ago and things hadn’t been great for a while before that, so if I were to guess, I’d say it’s closer to eight months since I had sex. But I’m not telling Jack that. Not a chance in hell he’d let me live down the fact that the only action my dick has seen for the better part of a year is with my own hand.
“So, you and what’s her name are definitely over?” he now asks.
I tighten the last bolt on the tire before standing, stretching my back as it cracks a few times. “Caitlyn,” I reply, throwing the wrench back into the toolbox. “And yes, we’re over.”
“What happened?” Jack asks, and he almost sounds genuinely interested.
I shrug. “Don’t know. Grew apart, it happens.”
“Only if you let it,” he replies as he wanders over to the bench along the side of the wall. He reaches into the small fridge that sits under it and grabs two bottles of water, throwing one to me. “You not really into her or did something else happen?”
I twist off the cap and take a long drink. “You know, you’re in danger of sounding like a chick, don’t you?”
Jack’s grin widens. “Or I’m sounding like a happily married man who gets laid with very hot sex on a regular basis.”
I roll my eyes, finishing off my water as I avoid his question.
“Come on,” he says. “Talk to me, Goose. It mustn’t have been that great if you just let her walk away.”
“It’s not as simple as that,” I eventually say, even as I wonder why the fuck I’m getting into this with him.
“Yeah, it is,” he says matter of factly. “If you’re into someone, you fight for them. Look at me, I traveled halfway around the world for the woman I love.”
