by Jewel E. Ann
He gave Pam an awkward smile and followed Parker. “Thanks, Pam.”
The door to her truck creaked when she opened it.
“I saw some WD-40 in your shed.”
“Ugh! It’s terrible isn’t it?” She took the drink and bag from him before hopping into the driver’s seat. “It’s been greased a million times. I think it’s become grease resistant.”
Gus rested his arms on the roof and leaned in slightly as she licked the oil from the cheese and sausage off her fingers. “I find it odd that your mom touts your culinary skills, yet you’re fine with eating stale donuts and greasy, convenience store pizza.”
She twisted off the cap to the sports drink and gulped half of it down, ending with a breathless sigh. “Don’t tell my mom I ate this. I’d never hear the end of it. All the grease could make me sick, but damn it tastes so good now.” A soft moan vibrated up her throat as she attacked the cake donut with white frosting and pink sprinkles. After swallowing, she took another few gulps of the blue liquid sugar. “I always pay at the pump, so this stuff doesn’t tempt me.”
“You do realize you’re an adult now, right?”
“I know.” She held the last bite of the donut up to his mouth.
He shook his head.
“Come on. It’s amazing.”
Continuing to shake his head, he chuckled. “So we’re back to amazing again, like at the brewery the night of my birthday when everything was amazing to you.”
She licked her sticky lips then wrinkled her nose. “I’m afraid your memory of that night is a little better than mine. Here, you have to.”
He wasn’t quick enough to dodge the bite of donut she smashed into his lips. Dry and not awesome, just as he suspected. “Thank you, Parker.”
As she cackled with her head thrown back, he bent down, fisted the hem of her white tank top, and used it as a napkin—trying desperately to ignore how soft and warm her skin felt when his knuckles grazed it.
“Hey! What the hell?”
“Oh…” he stood up “ …sorry, but payback is a bitch, Parker.”
Narrowing her eyes, she growled. “Enough with the ‘Parker,’ and you’re right. Payback is a bitch.”
Gus wiped the rest of his mouth with the hem of his shirt, not missing the quick glance she made when he pulled it up, exposing his abs. Another dick move to add to his growing list, but he wiped more than he needed because it had been too long since a woman looked at him the way Parker did—involuntarily wetting her lips.
“I don’t get it. ‘Parker’ is your name. Ms. Cruse makes me sound like some sixty-year-old professor handing you the results to your final exam.”
“Well, it’s better than the way you say my first name.”
“Which is how exactly?”
She rolled her eyes as if his question were that crazy, then fished out the second donut—chocolate glazed. “You know.” Half the donut fit into her mouth, leaving Gus wondering what other large items she could accommodate.
He thanked God for his choice of jeans that morning, keeping his dick contained—painfully contained. “No. I don’t know.”
Parker put her hand over her filled-to-capacity mouth. “Dirty.”
“Dirty?” He laughed.
She nodded, chewing slowly like he might be doing the Heimlich on her if she couldn’t completely swallow. “Yes,” she mumbled then swallowed twice. “It sounds dirty … or … erotic when you say my name.”
“Par-ker.” He shrugged. “No. I don’t think it sounds dirty or erotic.” “P-ar-k-er.” He rolled his eyes to the sky then shook his head. “Nope. You’re crazy. I say it like everyone else says it.”
“You don’t. Trust me.” She held the other half of her donut in her mouth as she fastened her seat belt. Then she took one more bite and tossed the last bite into the sack. “But I don’t have time to argue with you. I have important chores to do for your wife, including finalizing things for your big Fourth of July extravaganza.”
“Barbecue.”
She mocked him with a laugh. “Oh, buddy, this is so much more than a barbecue. I’ve booked a local band, and even though it’s not on the list, I might see if Romeo is available.”
He grumbled, keeping his angry words indiscernible. “It’s still a barbecue.”
Parker laughed again. “There’s no grill involved and no barbecue sauce. The menu looks more like a high tea. I was told nothing fried, nothing messy, nothing with too much onion or garlic, and nothing that’s still stuck to a bone. Only bottled beer and white wine. Sangria will be served, but not allowed in the house, which seems doable since the tent that’s getting set up in your backyard is nicer than a lot of starter homes.”
Thoughts of murdering his wife had never crossed his mind … until that moment. “I need to make a phone call. Thanks again for the ride.”
A smile came warm and inviting from her lips, and for that brief moment her smile was all that mattered. That’s what made him act the way he did, say things that were inappropriate, be reckless with his marriage. Feeling nothing but sunshine and bliss tempted him in ways he never imagined. Parker Cruse was all sunshine and bliss.
“Bye, Mr. Westman.” She winked.
He shut her door and blinked, bringing him back to reality and his wife who had morphed into some hoity-toity hostess.
*
Gus waited until his van was parked outside the new construction house, right behind Abe’s truck. Calling Sabrina en route might have landed him in the ditch or in the middle of a multi-car pileup. Twenty minutes later, he still couldn’t keep the anger from shaking his hands.
“I’ve got like … two minutes, August. What do you need?”
“Mind telling me why our ‘small barbecue’ has turned into something fit for royalty?”
“God, August! Please tell me this isn’t why you’re calling me in the middle of the day.”
“Barbecue, Sabrina. A grill or smoker, marshmallows, fire pit, lawn chairs, and beer in a can or maybe a keg with a stack of red cups. What the hell are you thinking? A tent? Sangria? We aren’t those people!”
“Calm down. I’m not asking you to do anything more than show up—preferably in something that doesn’t have some sports or brand-name logo plastered to the front of it, and no hat.”
At that moment he vowed never to take off his Cubs cap or wear anything but T-shirts with big-ass logos.
“I’m not paying for a dime of this.”
A condescending laugh trickled in his ear, like acid on his nerves. “That’s why we opened separate checking accounts last year.”
He held his middle finger up to the phone. “Yeah, we didn’t need to separate our money when I had bigger paychecks.”
“I don’t have time for your insecurities right now. One of us has a job that doesn’t leave time for pointless conversations about bruised egos. Goodbye, August.”
He chucked his phone onto the dash. “Fuck!”
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Gus turned as Abe’s knuckles rapped against the window. He shoved open the door, forcing Abe to retreat a few steps.
“Let me guess. A simple oil change and tire rotation turned into new brakes, new battery, and a bill three times what you were expecting.”
“No.” Gus slammed the door and stalked toward the house. “The love of my life has turned into an unrecognizable …” He bit his tongue as words like bitch and wench ran through his mind. It wasn’t Abe’s business.
“Shit. That’s why you asked me about my experience with cheating. You’re not happy at home.”
“It’s just a rough patch.” He inspected the work Abe had already done. In spite of his fondness of logo shirts and baseball caps, Gus prided himself on being a perfectionist with his job.
“A rough patch or have you fallen into a fucking canyon. The barren, unforgiving kind that indiscriminately takes lives before anyone can rescue you?”
As much as Gus wanted to blame Parker for the state of his marriage, he couldn’t. He berated himsel
f for trying to use her as an excuse to look for imperfections between him and his wife. But their problems existed before Parker—in only a bra and panties—answered her door. If he never laid eyes on those legs or saw that smile again, Sabrina would still be a bitch that grew out of nowhere.
Maybe she was on drugs. Maybe some parasite invaded her brain, changing her personality. Whatever it was, he couldn’t live the rest of his life mourning the woman he married, despising the stranger in his bed, and pining for the girl next door.
“I don’t need to be rescued.”
“Famous last words, my friend … famous last words.”
*
Gus finished his day on autopilot, doing his best to ignore Abe and his concerned expressions. He arrived home to his parents’ red Ford Escape parked in the circle drive and Parker roaming the yard with a five-gallon bucket. She still wore the short shorts and donut stained tank top from that morning. Sabrina’s BMW parked in the garage came as the most shocking surprise.
He removed his boots in the mudroom and entered an empty kitchen. “Hello?”
“Out here, sweetie,” his mom, Tessa, called from the screened-in porch.
“Who died?” Gus asked.
“No one, sweetie.” Tessa smiled, tucking her graying, chin-length hair behind her ear. “We were out for a drive and thought we’d stop and say hi. We haven’t seen Sabrina in weeks.”
Gus eyed his wife, still in her perfectly-pressed dress and heels, sipping a glass of red wine. “I’m shocked you’re home.”
She shrugged. “I had a bit of a headache, so I came home early. I guess it’s fate since I haven’t spoken with your parents in a while.”
Gus nodded slowly.
“You know I’ve got some weed killer that would work much faster on your dandelion problem than the young lady out there pulling them one at a time.” His dad, Gerald, chuckled while watching Parker.
“She said those chemicals could be harmful to Rags, and I agree with her.” Sabrina brought her wine glass to her lips, shooting Gus an evil glare like he’d been trying to kill their dog.
“So Parker pulling weeds is your happy hour entertainment?”
Gerald whistled, shaking his head. “That girl does not stop. Hard worker. Nice young lady too. Your mom and I thoroughly enjoyed chatting with her the day she brought us a loaf of banana bread. She can bake too. If your brother weren’t hell-bent on dating high-maintenance airheads, I’d fix them up.”
“Bran’s just young and finding his way,” Tessa defended their youngest son as she glided gently in the padded patio chair.
Gus, the middle child, had good work ethic. Tabitha, his older sister the neurosurgeon, had a near genius I.Q., but Bran, at twenty-five, had no interest in finding a purpose, a real job, or a relationship that lasted longer than one night.
It amused Gus to think of ‘hardworking’ Parker being all that different from Bran. Her résumé consisted of a string of temp jobs. And on a Friday night, she had nothing better to do than pick dandelions.
“She might be off the market anyway.” Sabrina looked out at Parker. “From what she said, her date last night went really well. A young doctor.”
“A podiatrist.” Gus grunted.
His mom laughed. “August, podiatrists are medical doctors too.”
“They sure are.” Gerald nodded. “My last visit was with this new guy, Dr. Blair. Great sense of humor and my bunions have never been better.”
“Dr. Blair? Is his first name Mark?” Sabrina asked.
“Yes, you know him?”
“No. But that’s who Parker went out with last night.”
“Oh lord …” Gus said under his breath.
“Parker?” Gerald called, adjusting his Hawkeye baseball cap—like father like son—except his hat covered up a ninety-percent bald head.
She glanced in their direction, brushing away a few stray hairs from her face with the back of her wrist.
“Dr. Blair is my doctor!”
Gus rolled his eyes.
“Great guy. Well done, young lady.” He gave her a thumbs-up.
She gave him the A-okay sign and her signature smile. “Thanks, Mr. Westman, he sure is.”
“Well, if you’ll excuse me I’m going to lie down for a bit to get rid of this headache before dinner.” Sabrina hugged his parents before shooting Gus a cold look on her way in the house.
“Feel better, dear,” Tessa said.
“We’d better get going too, Mama.” Gerald winked at Tessa.
She gave him an endearing smile. Sabrina used to look at Gus that way.
“We’re looking forward to your Fourth of July party.” Tessa kissed Gus on the cheek.
He slipped his shoes on and followed them out to their Ford Escape. “I’m glad you are.”
His dad patted him on the shoulder. “I heard. No barbecue. I see ya fighting it, but once you’ve been married for as long as your mother and me, you’ll know just to say, ‘Yes, ma’am.’”
Gus questioned if his marriage would last forty years as his parents’ had. After recent events, he wondered if his marriage would last another forty days. “That’s code for taking it up the backside, right?”
Tessa gave him a disapproving frown.
“No.” Gerald shook his head to reassure his wife as she got in the car. After she closed her door, he grimaced at Gus. “Yes, it’s code for that. Bye, young lady! Tell Dr. Blair hi, if you see him before I do.”
Parker waved. “Sure thing.”
After his parents drove off, Gus made his way to Parker. “Dandelions will not kill anyone. Stop pulling them.” He reached down and picked one that she hadn’t gotten to and blew on it.
“Stop!” She grabbed it from him. “You’re blowing seeds everywhere which will make more dandelions.”
He chuckled. “So.”
“Even if I have to make up a fake job, as soon as this party is over, I’m quitting. But for now, I’d appreciate you not making my job harder.”
He shoved his hands into his jeans’ pockets. “About this party … I’ll pay you double what she’s paying you if you make it the Fourth of July celebration I want.”
Parker glanced up from her squatted position. “Excuse me?”
“She’s paying you thirty an hour to plan this? I’ll pay you sixty an hour, but everything is what I want.”
She shook her head and returned her attention to the last patch of yard still marred with the forbidden yellow-flowered weed. “She’ll fire me.”
“Who cares? You’re quitting anyway.”
“Not the same thing. I’m not moving, which means I’ll still occasionally see her and I won’t have her pissed off at me from now to eternity. Thanks, but no thanks. And why would you do this? No matter how mad she’d be with me, she’d be ten times madder at you? Is that what you want?”
“What if it is?”
Parker paused. His marriage wasn’t her business either, but she had a unique insight into his relationship with Sabrina that no one else had. He wasn’t proud of that.
“Then I’d say you’re trying to sabotage your marriage.”
“Why would I be the one sabotaging it? Maybe this whole ridiculous party is her way of sabotaging it.”
Parker laughed while standing up and peeling off her gardening gloves. “I’ll grant three of your requests for this party without telling her. Then at least I can play dumb like I didn’t know you weren’t allowed any say.”
“Three wishes?” Gus squinted, head cocked to the side. “Like a magic genie?”
She sighed and traipsed through the yard carrying a bucket full of dandelions. “Sure, like a magic genie.”
“Do I need to rub you in a certain way for you to grant my wishes?”
“Mr. Westman—”
“Is my father, stop calling me that, Parker.”
“I’m dating someone. You’re married. There will be no rubbing.” She opened the gate between their yards then turned. “Understood?”
“You hooke
d up with a guy that’s filed, sanded, or done some weird shit with my dad’s bunions. I’d hardly call that dating. And I hope you think of that if you do see him again.”
“Three wishes. And I don’t want your double hourly rate.”
“No?”
“No. I want you to tell me how you met Sabrina.”
Those verbal punches always came out of nowhere, turning fun moments into brutal reality checks.
He leaned his back against the wood fence post and folded his arms over his chest. “Her best friend married one of my friends from high school. Maid of Honor, Best Man sort of thing. Vegas wedding. Sabrina lived in Phoenix and invited me for a visit since I’d never been there. And the rest is history.”
“But you fell in love and married her. Tell me that part of the story.”
“For fuck’s sake, you broke a glass in my kitchen when I mentioned the sex and you said you didn’t want to know that, but now you want to know how or why I fell in love with her?”
Dropping the bucket by her feet, she mirrored his arms-crossed-over-chest stance. “Yes. I do.”
“She was spunky and competitive, especially with her brother. Electricity is my thing, and she had this addictive energy that drew me in. I knew she’d take over the world someday. Her passion and confidence were so damn sexy, but she was never arrogant, except with her brother. And she loved me and my blue collar job, my Midwest upbringing, and my laid-back attitude. I suppose in some ways we were opposites, but the good kind that just … worked.”
“So what happened?”
He shrugged then adjusted his Cubs cap. “We just stopped working. And it’s so fucking disheartening because I have no idea why. It’s like one day she woke up and my existence in her life seemed to piss her off. It felt so out of the blue, but maybe it was gradual. Maybe I didn’t see it because I so rarely see her anymore.”
Parker nodded thoughtfully.
“Happy now?” Gus asked.
She grabbed the bucket again. “Not happy. It’s a very sad story. But I’m satisfied.”
“And why is that?”
Turning toward her house, she walked away. “Because I wanted you to remember why you fell in love with her.”
