by Nikki Chase
“I… Uh… Maybe?” She hesitates, then shrugs and tries to change the subject. “My car died on me. Do you know anything about car repairs?”
Oh no, Missy. You’re not getting away that easily.
“Scarlett, right?” I stalk closer and take a good look. I watch her squirm, biting her full lips and swallowing.
“You’ve got me confused with someone else,” she says, challenging me with her big green eyes.
No way. I’ll never forget those eyes. I still remember the way they glaze over when she shivers from pleasure underneath me, her hands grabbing my arms and her muscles clenching around my cock.
“I’d never forget a girl like you,” I say with a smirk. “Maybe I’m not as memorable to you. Maybe you’ve had many interesting nights with many more interesting men, but that one night was pretty special to me.”
Her eyes flick to the side, like she’s thinking of something to say, searching for inspiration from our surroundings.
Too bad. There’s nothing else here but you and me. And we both know you’re not going anywhere with your car in that state.
“You’re going to stand there and tell me you’re not Scarlett? We both know that’s a bald-faced lie,” I say, trapping her gaze with mine.
“If you’re not here to help, you can continue on your way,” she snaps.
“Oh, no. I’m happy to help you. I’m really good with cars. And other things, as I’m sure you know. I’ve shown you how good I am with other things.” I raise my eyebrows.
She blushes. Oh yeah, she knows.
“I’m not the kind of guy who’d just leave a lady stranded by the side of the road in the middle of nowhere when I can help. I just want you to know, even if you don’t want to admit it, that I remember you.”
“Okay, fine. Maybe you know me,” she says while looking away. Jesus, it’s like pulling teeth. And all I want is for her to admit that we’ve met.
“But you’re not Scarlett?”
“My name’s Jessica.” She takes a deep breath, defeated.
“Well, Jessica. Nice to meet you again. I’m still Jacob.” I shoot her a crooked grin while I step closer to the car. “Now, let’s look at this car of yours.”
“It was running fine before, but then out of nowhere it just started to slow down and finally stop. I couldn’t get it to budge no matter how much I press on the gas pedal.” Now she’s suddenly found her voice.
She looks relieved that I’ve stopped asking questions about herself. Apparently, we’ve moved on to talking about the car instead. She’s definitely determined to keep the conversation on the same track.
As I peer under the hood, it quickly becomes clear to me what’s wrong with her car. It’s a common enough problem for old cars. It would take me less time to fix it than it did for me to get her name.
I’m definitely not done with her, though. She thinks she can walk away from me just like that and pretend nothing ever happened? Think again.
“I have the tools, but it’s going to take a whole day for me to fix it.” I turn to the side to watch her face fall.
She’s leaning against the front of the car beside me, looking at the same engine I’m looking at, but definitely not seeing what I can see. Which is great for me.
I can tell her whatever I want and she’d have no choice but to buy it.
“Oh. Well. Forget it then,” she says. “My friend should pick me up soon. I’ll go home and tomorrow the mechanic can come to fix it.”
Home? That’s interesting, That means she lives here now.
I can’t let the mechanic see the car. One look and he’d know it’s a simple fix. If he were to tell her, she’d know I’m bullshitting her.
“It’s okay. I have time. I’ll fix it for you. If you don’t want to wait here, I can take you home on my bike. I’ll come back to fix the car and bring the key back to you. Tomorrow we can come back to get it.”
I imagine her sitting on the back of my Harley, her thighs spread wide by the seat, the wind wrapping her top tight around her body. Maybe if I speed up she’d hold on tight and press her perky tits against my back.
She bites her bottom lip and stares at the engine, as if she’d get some divine inspiration and suddenly understand the inner workings of a car.
Her body is slightly bent at the waist, making her ass stick out deliciously in the air. Damn. The view makes me want to grab her hips and fuck her right here against her old, fucked-up car.
“If you’re worried I’m going to bail, I can leave my stuff at your place. You don’t have to worry about me stealing this car.” I chuckle, which makes her shoot me an angry look.
Hey, it’s not my fault you don’t find it funny. Your car isn’t worth shit and you know it.
She takes one last look at the car engine under the hood, sighs audibly, and finally meets my gaze. “Okay.”
Okay? I’m doing her a big favor and all she has to say to me is okay? If she wasn’t so fucking sexy, I would’ve laughed at her while riding away. She’d be watching my ass getting smaller and smaller in the distance while she stands here helpless and alone.
As it is, though, she’s got my full attention. Ever since that night, she’s haunted my dreams. I’ve woken up with my cock hard and my hands running over cold bed sheets, wishing I was touching her soft, creamy skin instead. I’d jerk off to memories of that one night, conjuring images of her writhing in the throes of ecstasy while I lie alone in the dark.
“Okay.” I shrug like it’s not a big deal and slam the hood down. The sound makes her jump and I stifle a laugh as she glowers at me. “You may want to lock your car. It’s unlikely anybody would want to steal it, but you can’t be too careful.”
I open the hard-plastic luggage bag mounted on the back of my motorcycle and grab my spare helmet. It takes up a lot of space, but it comes in handy sometimes.
Some girl bought it so she could ride with me. When I left her town, she told me to keep it because she wasn’t going to use it with me gone. I had a feeling she was hoping I’d remember her whenever I see the helmet—I do, in a way, but it doesn’t evoke any particular memory about her. I don’t even remember her name.
Now, this girl in front of me who’s grabbing her stuff from inside her beat-up Toyota, I know both her names and I’ll remember them for a long time. I check out the curve of her ass that’s hanging outside the car while she bends down with one leg on the ground and one knee on the car seat.
I could walk over there and push down on her lower back right now, yank her jeans down and plunge deep inside her. There’s nobody here but wood critters. No vehicles passing by. Nobody’s going to stop us.
Besides, I remember how responsive her body is to my touch. I’m sure she’s going to push back against me and scream out my name in no time.
Beep! The sound of the car doors being locked pulls me away from my imagination. Scarlett—no, Jessica—is walking toward me, her full hips swaying with every step. She has put on a green hoodie on top of her shirt. Yeah, baby. This is happening.
I hand her the spare helmet. She takes a quick look at it and gives me a confused frown. Okay, so the helmet is a little girly. It’s black with flowers all over and hot pink skull and crossbones at the back.
I shrug. I don’t have to explain anything to her.
She went away with no explanation after giving me one explosive, unforgettable night and leaving me hungry for more. After her, no matter how much I indulge myself with other women, I could never get any lasting satisfaction. I’d always compare them with her.
If I give women the impression that I’m the kind of guy who’s just gonna fuck them and dump them, it’s only because of this one woman who’s now putting on the ridiculous helmet and climbing onto my Harley Davidson.
I know some women who still hold on to some kind of deep-seated grudge toward me. Well, if nothing else, now that I’m about to find out where Jessica lives, I’ll be able to give them an address where they can send their complaints.
“Ashbourne, right?” I look back to see her nod as I start the engine. I smirk as the engine roars to life and glance over the shoulder. “Hold on tight.”
We glide onto the deserted country road, the air cool underneath the canopy of the trees. As I pick up my speed, she tentatively touches my waist and then wraps her arms around me.
If it wasn’t for my damn leather jacket, I’d be able to feel her tits squished against my back, maybe even her nipples as the wind hardens them into little pebbles.
As it is, I just get a vague sensation of a warm body behind me. Still, as I glance down at her dainty hands clasped in front of my torso, I can’t help but feel my cock harden in my pants. I’ve fantasized about this sometimes, as I cruise down empty, lonely roads on my own.
I slow down as we enter the town so I can hear her shouting the directions above the roar of the engine. I quietly take mental notes of the street names, the landmarks, the number of turns we take before we reach our destination.
I’m a little disappointed when she unclasps her hands and hops off the bike, but I remind myself that we’ll be seeing each other again very soon. I can stay in town for a while and invent some excuses for not-so-random encounters.
“Thank you,” Jessica says as she hands back the black-and-pink helmet and walks toward a cute little house with yellow siding, a little wooden porch, and a glossy black front door. There’s a small lawn in front with nothing but short grass.
I stop my bike so I can put the spare helmet back in its usual place. As I scan my surroundings, I notice a sign hanging in front of the house next door to Jessica’s.
For Rent, it says.
Perfect.
Jessica
“A date, huh?” Tony’s only half-listening to me. His eyebrows are taut as he concentrates on pouring batter into the non-stick cups built into the muffin pan.
“Yeah,” I say. “I’ve been on Tinder for months and this is the first decent-looking guy I’ve seen on there. It sucks living in a small town. All the good ones are already taken.”
“I know what you mean. When I met Greg, I was already resigned to a single life forever. Like, I was ready to adopt ten cats and just be the town’s crazy cat man,” Tony says as he blows away a few strands of blond hair falling into his dazzling blue eyes.
I have to laugh. I can’t imagine Tony as a lonely single man-spinster. He seems to have the perfect little family, with his husband and two little toddlers. Plus, he’s way too attractive to stay single. If he weren’t gay, I’d be all over him myself.
I stick my batter-covered finger into my mouth. I don’t care if it’s not the most hygienic thing to do. These cupcakes are going to turn out amazing. “Bertha, you’re going to have to give me the recipe for these cupcakes.”
“Of course, dear. I’ll write it down just for you.” Bertha smiles, which makes laugh lines appear on her face.
Her silver hair is put up in a neat bun as usual, which only highlights how round her face is. By looking at her, you wouldn’t be able to tell that she has just lost her daughter in a tragic incident barely one year ago.
“Ooh, make me a copy too, please,” Tony says as he shoves our fifth muffin pan into my oven. “Your cupcakes are my favorite.”
“I will, dear.” Bertha has won countless baking contests in town. She jealously guards her recipes from her rivals, but she doesn’t keep any secrets from me. Going through the trial of Nancy’s murder together has brought us together like nothing else ever could.
We’re lucky she’s willing to bake something for the meeting tonight, considering her own oven at home is currently broken. Luckily, mine works just fine. When you never use your kitchen appliances, they tend to stay in pristine condition.
My kitchen has seen more action tonight than it has the whole time I’ve lived here. Flour covers the laminate countertop, heat radiates from the oven, and the sweet smell of chocolate fills the room.
On the floor, Max looks up at me with pleading eyes. Please, he seems to say. I’ve been so good. I haven’t even barked much.
“No, Max,” I say. “I know it smells great, but chocolate will kill you.”
Max perks up his ears and wags his tail, happy to be finally noticed. He probably thinks I’m going to give him a taste. I bend down to pat his head. I hope he’s not too disappointed. I’ll give him some treats later.
“Jess, can we take Max out for a walk?” Aaron, Tony’s little boy, asks as he squats down beside me to pet Max.
“No, Aaron. The meeting is going to start soon.”
“Oh.” He goes quiet, like he’s in deep thought. His little hand continues to gently stroke Max’s shiny coat of black, white, and brown. “Daddy told me I can get a rabbit.”
I look up at Tony, who simply shrugs. “That’s nice, Aaron. What are you going to name your rabbit?”
“I like cupcakes. My favorite flavor is vanilla,” he says.
“Oh, is that what you’re going to name your rabbit? Vanilla?”
“No. We’re having chocolate cupcakes.” He looks at me strangely, as if I’m the weird one for bringing up the rabbit when we’ve obviously moved on from the subject.
“That’s right. Do you like chocolate too?”
“Jess.” Aaron stops petting Max as he turns toward me, his face suddenly serious. “I learned how to write my name today.”
“That’s great, Aaron. High five!” I hold my palm up and he raises his hand to meet mine.
Aaron gets up and, without saying anything, waddles to the living room to join her sister, probably enticed by the opening theme song of some cartoon I can hear playing on TV.
I stand up and raise my eyebrows at Tony.
“Don’t look at me.” Tony pulls out a pan full of golden brown cupcakes from the oven and places it on the counter. “I’ve stopped trying to make sense of conversations with the kids a long time ago.”
“Kids are so random,” I say. I get high school kids because I see them at the school every day, but little kids baffle me.
“Enjoy it while you can. They grow up so fast.” Bertha wipes her hands on her little red apron, which does little to hide her plump body. She adjusts the glasses perching on her nose as she checks the recipe book.
Ding-dong!
“I’ll get that.” I dash to the front door while Max scrambles in the opposite direction, his ears flopping around as he hides behind the kitchen counter.
When I adopted Max from the shelter last year, I thought it would be nice to have a dog because I’m a single girl living on my own.
As it turns out, Max sucks as a guard dog. I don’t know if it’s a Beagle thing or if I just got a dud, but I love the little guy anyway. I shoot him a disapproving look as I open the door.
“Hi, Jessica.” A middle-aged woman with sparkling blue eyes and light blonde hair greets me.
She’s Bertha’s best friend and the town’s senior pharmacist, a friendly woman whom no one dares to cross. She knows who’s taking which drugs, after all. That’s powerful intel right there.
“Hi, Catherine.” I smile and take the covered casserole dish she’s offering me.
“It smells good in there. Bertha must be inside.”
“Yep.” I kick the door open a little further and let Catherine in before closing it behind me.
The neighborhood holds a street party every year. After a lifetime of being judged by most people, it’s good to feel like I’m accepted. It’s nice to be a part of something bigger than me for once.
Being around people also makes me feel less anxious about the danger that I’m in, even though these neighborhood ladies probably wouldn’t be much help if things were to get really bad.
If I go missing, there’d be more people looking for me this way, but I don’t know if that will help. I mean, if they realize I’m gone and discover my dead body really quickly, I guess that’s a positive thing. It just wouldn’t do me any good if I die anyway.
Despite his cowardly ways, it’s been great having Max around, too.
It’s nice to have a warm body beside me when I go to sleep at night.
God. That sounds pathetic, doesn’t it? I hope the Tinder date works out. It would be nice to have a warm human body beside me at night.
As people keep arriving, I direct them into the living room, even though many of them make a small detour into the kitchen anyway. Cupcakes are being snapped up, even as Bertha protests because she’s not done with the icing. She can be a bit of a perfectionist sometimes.
My living room looks small with ten adults and two kids crammed inside. There’s not enough room on the couches, so some people have to sit on the carpeted floor. Tony’s kids sit practically inches away from the TV, glued to their show even as the adults chatter among themselves.
The coffee table is covered by dishes of food brought in by my guests. Everyone eats and drinks while waiting for the meeting to start. Still, there’s a loud cheer when Bertha brings in the cupcakes from the kitchen.
We drag the coffee table to the middle of the room and have everyone sit in a circle around it. Tony lowers the volume of the TV and shushes his kids when they complain.
“Shall we begin?” Bertha asks as she takes her place on the couch. Pamela, who lives across the street from me, moves to sit on the floor to give space to Bertha. There’s an unspoken rule that she should always get a proper seat because she’s the oldest person in the room.
As I plant my butt on the floor, Max comes over and lays his warm, furry head on my lap. He may look like he’s relaxed at first glance, but his muscles are tense and his ears are pricked up. Being around this many strangers is making him nervous.
Bertha takes out her notes and goes around the room to check if everybody has done their tasks. Most people have already claimed a specialty because they’ve been doing this for years. Bertha has put Tony in charge of the decorations and I’m supposed to just stick with him and help him when needed.
“Oh, Jessica,” Bertha says toward the end of the meeting. “You can still help me open the door for the repairman, right?”
