Lena slips into the guest bath to brush her teeth and get ready for bed, while I check on Oliver. It won’t be long and he’ll be awake, looking for more food, but in the meantime, I plan to hold Lena close for as long as possible.
Because our time together has an expiration date.
She slips back into my room, heads straight for my dresser, and grabs a T-shirt from my drawer. It’s a spectacular view as she slides the material over her naked body and crawls into my bed. I make quick work of brushing my own teeth and return to my bedroom. Or more specifically, to my bed.
She moves easily into my arms as we curl on our sides, her back pressed against my front. I could hold her just like this forever, if she’d let me.
But that’s out of the cards.
So I’ll hold her as long as she lets me.
It damn sure won’t be long enough, but I guess I’ll deal with that when it happens.
Chapter Seventeen
Lena
The garage is wide open, and the guys have been at it since early afternoon. Not only is Fish here to work on his car, but they enlisted the assistance of Chief and Jones as well. They’ve been out there, turning wrenches and talking smack for much of the afternoon. It’s been quite comical to listen to.
Now, I’m firing up the grill. I made some pasta and taco salad today in preparation for dinner. Early on, it was just Fish who was planning to be here, but something told me to grab more food. I’m glad I did. There are four hungry male mouths out there ready to eat.
I hear his heavy boots on the deck stop as I’m throwing a dozen hamburger patties on the grill. “You didn’t have to do all this,” Mack says, coming up to stand directly behind me. He smells like dirt and grease mixed with sweat. He’s all male.
Throwing a light seasoning on them, I close the lid and turn to face him. Mack is standing close—very close— and wearing a grin. “I don’t mind. They’ve been working hard all afternoon. Do you think they’ll get it fired up today?”
He wipes his hands on a paper towel. “That’s the plan, though I’m not sure why we’re not getting fire yet.”
“Hmm, have you checked the fuel pump? I noticed it wasn’t something he replaced, but a lot of times, those go bad easily when they sit for long periods of time,” I offer, then feel myself blush right away. I’m sure they’ve probably checked everything they can. They’re car guys, for heaven’s sake.
“Yeah, I think he bought—” and then he just stops talking. His eyes light up. “We put on a new alternator and battery, but I don’t recall a fuel pump.”
I shrug. “I remember my dad’s old El Camino having a problem once. The main mechanic at the shop pinpointed it right away. I recall what it sounded like when it wouldn’t start. I sat there and just watched in fascination as he diagnosed the problem and then fixed it.” I blink, pulling myself out of the memory, and find Mack standing there, smiling.
“You had a pretty kick-ass childhood, you know that, Lena?”
I nod softly. “Yeah, I know. Even though we struggled after my mom died, Dad did everything he could to make sure I had everything I needed.”
He kisses me on the forehead.
“Stop necking with the hot girl!” Fish hollers from the doorway of the garage.
Mack keeps his smiling eyes locked on mine and asks, “Hey, Fish, did you check the fuel pump?”
His question is greeted with silence. We look that way and find Mack’s friend scratching his head. Finally, he looks our way with an embarrassed grin. “Shit, I’ll call the auto parts store,” he says, pulling his phone from his back pocket.
When Mack turns back to me, we both smile. “Well, I better go get the brats and get them on too or they’ll be raw and these burgers will be hockey pucks,” I say, pointing a thumb toward the house.
“I’m going to wash up and help,” he replies, following me into the house. “Want me to grill?” he asks when he reaches the sink and starts to scrub.
“That works.” I pull the salads out of the fridge and grab the brats. Mack takes the meat and a pair of tongs before slipping back outside to work on the grill. In the meantime, I set the counter with condiments for the burgers and brats, as well as grab some paper plates and plastic forks.
“I hear the food is in here,” Fish says in the doorway.
“Wash up. It’ll be ready in like five minutes,” I tell him, stirring the crushed Doritos into the taco salad.
“That looks amazing,” Fish says, stealing a few pieces of broken chips.
“Stop! Your hands are filthy,” I holler, shoving my shoulder into his chest and giving him a gentle push. He doesn’t budge.
Fish puts his hands up in surrender and heads to the sink. He uses Mack’s scrubber and degreaser and gets his hands as clean as possible.
“Dinner’s ready,” Mack hollers from the deck a few minutes later. “Fish, bring me a platter.”
When he returns with the food, Chief and Jones are hot on his heels, ready to dive into the food. The moment Mack sets the platter down, it’s like a free-for-all at an all-you-can-eat buffet. Mack shakes his head and hands me a plate. “Better get a plate before they come back for round two.”
We eat on the deck, enjoying the early Sunday evening warmth. My burger is loaded with mustard and cheese, and when I take my first bite, a big glob of yellow falls
