Flirting with Disaster (5 page)

She smiled back at me, unaware that my thoughts were less than pure. I cleared my head the best I was able and zoned back into the one-sided conversation.
 
I drank from the white ceramic coffee mug as she filled me in on the last details. The aroma filled my nostrils. I was happy for the work, whatever it was.
 

I noted her posture. Her shoulders were stiff like she constantly carried tension, and her jaw tense. She clung tightly to her sense of control, even if it was an illusion. Even the information she gave me, she doled out in drips at a time.
 

"I'll send you my address later," she said.

Just write your damn address down and I'll check it out. Nope, she'll text it later, when she was good and ready. She wanted to stay in command – control, reminding me who was the boss. I hoped she didn't hover as I worked. I didn't need eyes on me. She could trust me to get the job done.
 

Everything about Barbara was buttoned up. I wondered if she knew how to relax. Had anybody ever lit her fire and made her scream their name in passion? My guess was she wore ugly shoes, a bad attitude, and a sign that said “no boys allowed.” Yep, she was probably a woman buried deeply in her career, because she didn't have much else to hold onto.
 

While her demeanor was closed off, there was a certain softness to her. Her body offered full, large, comfortable breasts, the kind you wanted to place your head on. I could picture a child clinging to her after a bad night's dream, looking for soothing. And childbearing hips were not a bad thing, but she might as well be barren. The signals this one gave off were hardly welcoming.
 

I'd slowly drifted away from the conversation again, hoping I nodded at the appropriate time. I'd take a look at the work when she sent me the information. Not like I could add a lot without seeing what she wanted done. Efficient and solid, that's what I offered. She didn't quibble over my price, so at least there was that. I was impressed. Most people try to drive you down and get you to work as cheaply as possible.
 

Unfortunately, I almost messed up the deal before we shook on it. I was an ass at times. I didn't mean to get in her face about suits and corporate America. It came out of nowhere, bottled up aggression over the state of the nation and being part of a forgotten town. Federal money wasn't set aside for Ocean Crest. Sidewalks weren't repaired, pot holes rarely filled, and our schools were crumbling at the core. The money the government spent went to tourist-filled towns that raked in revenue, not shitty little holes cast aside.
 

After finishing at the diner, I had a quick errand to run. One of the seniors I'd known since I was a kid needed a little extra help. She couldn't lift the big bags of dog food anymore, so I picked it up and took it to her house about once a month. She always smiled so sweetly at me, taking my hand to thank me. Her skin was paper thin, and every year she looked more fragile, but she was one of the good ones, always with a kind word or a smile when you saw her out and about.
 

She probably shouldn't be driving at this point, but she had to get around. The public transportation around here wasn't the best. There used to be a shuttle service that picked up the old and disabled folks to get them to appointments if they needed help, but funding was cut off. Who cuts off funding for that? Probably some big time politician who thought the money would be better spent elsewhere – like lavishing the rich with more things they didn't need.
 

I didn't mean to be so down lately, but things were feeling pretty grim. People whispered about more businesses closing, and this area couldn't afford to support any more families. The food banks were already sparse. The churches fed those they could. What this place needed was a shot in the arm, a revival, a burst of money coming in to fix it up. Though, you get the wrong money in here, and the town turns into every other town out there that bends to the whims of those who run it for profit.
 

After dropping off Mrs. Fletcher's dog food, I headed to the shop. I had an inspection coming in later, and a quick brake job to do.
 

I was surprised when the round chick drifted into my mind later. Who was she and what did she want from this place? And why was I thinking about her ass again? For me, a fleshy bottom wasn't usually a draw. I liked a tight, muscled body, a woman who took care of herself.
 

The day went by quickly enough. All I needed was her address so I could check on the house. I glanced at my watch. It was only five thirty. I still had time to grab a bite to eat before she'd send her information. Stopping at home, I opened the fridge, looking for something to jump out at me. After mixing tuna with mayo and sweet relish, I poured a cold glass of water from the tap.
 

My phone buzzed not long after; she was right on time. I glanced at my phone and jotted down the address. I had a vague idea where it was, but couldn't place the house immediately. I shrugged and quickly washed my hands and cleared the mess I'd made.

I didn't know what work she had other than the stuff she'd mentioned, but I hoped it was enough to pay for more than a few bills. I hated falling behind. I'd always paid my debts. I shoved my phone into my pocket. Time to get to work.
 

Driving home from the factory I made a detour to the next town to stop at Costco for basic house staples and went seriously overboard. I got so much stuff that the back seat and the trunk of the car were full. While dragging the perishables into the kitchen, I became painfully aware of how crazy I had gone. I laughed at myself for attempting to compensate in one shopping expedition for the thousands of times I had gone without.
   

I kicked off my high heels and ditched my office suit for yoga pants to finish unloading the car comfortably. I was carrying an enormous pack of toilet paper in one hand and one of paper towels in the other when Ryder parked his truck in front of the house.

Jumping down from the battered vehicle, he laughed and asked pointing to my packages with his chin, "Did I miss the announcement of an outbreak of dysentery of epidemic proportion?"

"You would think, right?" Unable to help myself, I smiled back at him. "Please, come on in. I'll be with you in a minute. I'll finish unloading later."

"Nah, don't be silly," he said walking to the open trunk. "I'll help you get everything in."
 

"That would be lovely, thank you, Ryder."
 

Catching some of the heavier items, he caught up with me and followed into the kitchen. After putting the laundry detergent and the bottles on the table, he left to get the rest. I had picked up beer and Diet Coke in the cold section. As I tucked them away in the fridge, I marveled at the fact this antiquity still worked properly. I watched Ryder shut the trunk and hurry through the overgrown front yard as rain started to fall.
 

"Thank you," I said sincerely. "You saved me from a cold shower."

"Don't mention it." He shrugged and looked through the window at the thickening rain.
 

For a moment we remained silent. He seemed absorbed in the contemplation of the clouds rolling in--a storm was coming--I studied his splendid profile in the fading daylight.
 

After spending the entire day with his father, I could see the resemblance between the two men. Something in the square jaw and a stubborn looking forehead. The rest had to be a likeness to his mother. The form of the eyes was different, almost almond in shape and the color was deep brown speckled with gold. Ryder was taller than his father and he would probably age more gracefully since he seemed to be taking very good care of himself. He was a handsome man. A hundred times sexier than all those half wit dudes who played superheroes in TV shows.
 

Breaking the silence, I asked, "What do you say I show you what I want done upstairs and then we'll come back here to set up a schedule?"
 

"Sure thing," he said walking with me to the staircase. I went up first feeling suddenly very self conscious about the size of my behind which was right in his face as we climbed. Oh well, he would have to deal with it, and if he was traumatized, I'm pretty sure there would be plenty of skinny chicks around who would be delighted to nurse him out of it.

On the second floor landing, I opened the door to what had been my mother's room. "The first order of business is to get everything in here out the door and give it a fresh coat of paint."
   

"Okay." He thought for a moment scanning the room. "While I do that, where will you sleep?"
 

"I got it covered." Turning, I opened the other door to show him the second bedroom which was now totally empty except for the inflatable bed and a lamp. Quickly, I shut the light off and closed the door behind me.
 

I had not thought this out very well. Not because of the mess of my clothes pouring out of my suitcase, I had no intention to run for the housekeeper of the year award, but because of the papers taped to wall. I didn't want him looking at my schedule for carrying out the entire study of the factory nor at the list of leads which I wanted to check as a last ditch effort to revive the activity.

"This room will need a paint job as well, and so does the bathroom." I opened the third door of the very narrow hall and he moved closer, almost touching me. Instinctively I faltered and hit the first step of the staircase. Ryder caught me by the waist and pulled me against him. I grabbed on to his shoulder until I regained my footing. Back on solid ground I looked up to his face to thank him. My voice sounded a lot breathier than I expected.

"We wouldn't want you to break your neck falling down," he said still holding on to me and looking into my eyes. "Those are steep stairs."

That, I knew too well. More than once I had picked up my mother at the bottom of the stairs. The last time had been so bad that, even in her deepest, drunken stupor, my mother knew better than to try to go to her bed.
 

Somehow, standing in Ryder's arms, the memory wasn't as upsetting. With one hand he gently tucked away a strand of my hair from my face and asked, "Are you okay?"

The gesture sent shivers down my spine. It made me imagine him as an attentive and tender lover. That thought and the images it conjured brought heat to my cheeks. I lowered my eyes and put a hand flat on his chest to tear myself away. Holding on to him had felt too good for my own safety.

"Sure, let's go down and figure out when you can start."

As I turned to walk down the stairs, I thought I saw the corner of his lip twitch. Cocky bastard, he knew the effect he had on women and my letting down my guard had comforted him in this belief. I had to watch myself.

We sat at the kitchen table and while drinking a beer, he listened to what I wanted. I had given him a copy of my written itemized list, but while I went down the list explaining what I meant, he never looked at the paper but observed me. He probably was unused to women who knew what they wanted and looked at me as if I was creature from another planet.
 

When I was done with my list, I opened my handbag to pull out an extra set of keys and counted five hundred dollars in cash.
 

"I figured you would need this for the supplies,” I said.
 

"Thanks," he said. "I'll probably start tomorrow around noon. I have a job to finish at the garage first." Standing, he stretched his long body and pocketed the keys and the money.

"Is that your main job?" I asked as I walked him to the door. "I'm assuming if it were up to you, it would be bikes first and cars second."

He looked at me more intently and then smiled. He opened his mouth as if to say something and then thought better of it. If I read him right, he was about to ask me if we had met before. We'd cross that bridge when we got to it. Probably tomorrow if he gave my address to his father. The man had driven my mother back from the factory often enough to know who the house belonged to.

Being near the ocean, humidity and dampness were a near constant. The salt air was harsh on paint, and winters were choppy. But on days like today, when the weather was near perfect and you could hear the ocean's constant churning in the distance, it all seemed right. The sun was still shining, but it would set soon enough.

The contrast was that being this close to a massive body of water, a storm could rush in faster than you could count. Sometimes it moved so quickly, it stormed then cleared with hardly a trace of evidence, other than droplets of water splashed on windshields and pavement.
 

As I pulled up to the given address, I saw Barbara trying to juggle bulk size purchases of toilet paper and paper towels. It looked like she was preparing for a plague. I rushed to help and gather the rest of the items still in her car then the sky opened up. Welcome to Ocean Crest, sunny one minute, fast moving storms the next. It was a quick, drenching rain, pelting anything it could reach.

I jolted and ran with the rest of the items, having saved an extra trip out to the car. Once inside, I could see time hadn't passed much here lately. The walls were still covered in dated paneling. Stacks of books and collections of trinkets lined tables and shelves. Even the light fixtures reminded me of my time growing up. No wonder she wanted to make changes. The interior looked as if it hadn't been touched in years.

After an awkward silence, she took me upstairs to show me what needed to be done. As she climbed the stairs in front of me, I tried not to notice her ass which was practically in my face. Looking away would have been the polite thing to do, but I wasn't concerned with my manners at this particular moment. I took a good long stare, smiling at the jiggle that I'd expected to be there. And it was, with each and every step. I quickly wiped the grin off my face as we got to the landing.