Chaste

by Lydia Michaels

  When his eyes adjusted he spotted the driver and paused. She would drive a truck like that. Sticking to the shadows by the dumpster, he watched as she cranked the old truck into drive and maneuvered her way through the other cars.

  As the truck rumbled past, catching the glow of the street lamp, his gaze settled on her tiny unadorned ears peeking out beneath her choppy blonde hair. No matter how no-frills she appeared there was something undeniably sexy about her.

  * * * *

  Ashlynn shifted the Bobcat so the pallet lined up with the bed of her truck. She’d spent the morning scrubbing her freshly harvested potatoes and wanted to take them over to the market before church. Not many locals shopped on Sunday in Center County, but it was her father’s birthday and after church she planned to make him a good, home cooked supper of his favorites followed by shortcake garnished with strawberries off the vine.

  Once the spuds were loaded, she slammed the tailgate shut, and climbed behind the wheel. Her house was one of the old farmhand holds she’d taken over, because a plot of untouched land surrounded it.

  Over the years she’d converted the grounds and produced some of the best crops this side of the Mason-Dixon Line. Center County had a finicky climate, but Ashlynn knew the land and weather by heart. After six years, she only had one bad harvest and that was due to an unseemly drought that hit almost the entire northern area. She had a list of trusted suppliers she ordered organic, out of season produce during the cooler months.

  As she barreled down the two miles of rough road into town her vehicle made an obnoxious sputtering sound. Frowning under the glare of the early morning sun, she checked her gages. The gas gage had stopped working long before her dad gave her the truck, but she was always sure to fill the tank every two days. There was no way she was running low on fuel.

  With the windows down, she sniffed and spotted smoke seeping from under the blue hood. “Crap.”

  As soon as she arrived at the market she’d check and see what the issue was. She’d performed a tune-up a few weeks ago and everything appeared fine, so she hoped it was a simple fix like a loose cap.

  Pulling onto Main Street and into traffic the truck continued to wheeze. At the light across from Neman’s Pharmacy, her engine started to whistle. That wasn’t good. She only had a few blocks to go when the truck gurgled to a halt and the engine died, right there, in the middle of traffic as the light turned green.

  Her fingers gripped and turned the key over in the ignition, but the truck blew a gasket, smoke billowing from her vents. Sighing, she pulled the key, and jumped out of the driver’s side to see what the issue was. Her hand fluttered in an apologetic wave to the other drivers at the intersection, signaling them to go around.

  Her boots smacked over the blacktop as she rounded the fender and popped the hood. It lifted with a tired whine of aged metal and she cursed. The engine was running hot.

  Please, not the transmission.

  Reaching in the back pocket of her overalls, she pulled out a pair of leather gloves and fanned away the smoke. This wasn’t going to be an easy fix. Groaning, she returned to the cab and searched for her phone, hoping her dad hadn’t already left for Church.

  As she dialed the landline to the farm she waited for him to pick up. After the seventh ring she huffed and dropped the phone into the front pocket of her overalls and slammed the door.

  Cars continued to snake around her vehicle. Offering a rueful smile she headed toward the town’s mechanic. Hopefully someone was there that could at least tow her truck out of the way.

  As she briskly walked down the sidewalk toward the shops interspersed with store top apartments, she considered how much the repair would cost. She could likely do most of the work herself, but transmissions weren’t cheap. Sighing, she admitted she might have to start shopping for a new vehicle.

  As she passed the mouth of a narrow alley, two doors from the mechanic’s, she narrowly avoided smashing into the man turning the corner at a clipped pace. Her breath caught as her gaze met crystal blue eyes in a handsome face accentuated by the softest looking lips she’d ever seen.

  Kelly.

  As he looked up from buttoning the same shirt he’d worn last night she noticed his boots weren’t even tied. Cheap perfume mixed with his cologne, having a repulsive effect on her senses and causing her to take a step back.

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to almost run you over there,” he said, and her lips moved as she tried to form words. His jaw was rough with dark stubble.

  “That’s…that’s okay.”

  “Ashlynn, right?”

  Over a decade of attempting to get his attention and he wasn’t even sure of her name? “Yeah. How are you, Kelly?” Her vocal cords trembled in his presence as she struggled to make small talk.

  “I’m great.” Of course he was. He was leaving the bed of some random woman who probably performed sexual acts she was too ignorant to dream of. “How are you?”

  Shrugging, she tried to act unaffected by his presence. “I’m heading down to Ernie’s. My truck broke down on Main Street.”

  His blue eyes narrowed as he glanced over her shoulder, likely spotting the congested intersection where she’d abandoned her vehicle. Her cheeks warmed and she brushed a hand over her mussed hair. Why hadn’t she dressed for church before she headed out? Ugh, she was covered in dust from the garden and her tank top barely covered what her overalls missed.

  “That’s a big truck for a small woman.”

  Her shoulders drew back. Was that a compliment or an insult? Or neither? Perhaps just an observation. “It’s mine,” she said stupidly.

  The side of his mouth kicked up and her heart stuttered. Holy Hannah, those lips… “Old trucks like that are like the mullets of vehicles, all short in the front and long in the back. Takes a confident woman to rock such a throwback.”

  Forcing her head not to shake, she laughed nervously. His presence was such a distraction, if she didn’t focus on exactly what he was saying she’d miss his words completely.

  “You got a truckload of stuff in the back. Where were you headin’?”

  Embarrassed for being exactly who she was—a little farmer in a redneck town—she explained, “I have a bed full of potatoes I was dropping off at the farmers’ market. That’s my store.” So not the type of woman he was used to.

  His blue eyes widened. “It is? I didn’t know that.”

  Yup, that was her, just another speck in the background of other people’s exciting lives. She needed to hide. Her quota for uncomfortable situations had been met for the week.

  “Yeah, well…if you’ll excuse me. I really need to find Ernie and ask him to move my truck before the cops come and tow it away. I’m pretty sure it needs a new transmission. I don’t want to have to pay if it gets impounded as well.”

  Blue highlights caught the sunlight as he tipped his head to the side. The Celtic trinity tattoo on his neck was one of her favorites. “What makes you think it’s the transmission?”

  “The engine overheated and the gears are slipping.”

  One perfect dark brow lifted. He obviously didn’t expect her to know much about cars. Cars and farming were what she knew best. “So you gonna have Ernie replace the transmission?”

  Her brow tightened. “No. I’ll do it.”

  At that, both brows rose. “Really?”

  “Why not?” she asked, mildly insulted that he assumed she wouldn’t be able to do such a thing.

  “Uh, no reason. I just don’t know any girls that are into that sort of thing.”

  Her mouth snapped shut. Nothing like being the odd ball out. In light of the hickey on his neck, his comment irritated her more than it probably should have, and her jealousy overruled her cautious tongue. “I’m not surprised, with the kind of women you pass your time with.” Her hand smacked over her mouth. Where had that come from? “Sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  His easygoing expression shuttered and guilt tunneled through every pumping vessel in her body. What pos
sessed her to be so nasty?

  “Sure.” He was clearly offended. “Anyway, I’ll see you around.”

  With that he stepped around her and regret crushed down on her chest. Why had she said that? There was plenty a guy like Kelly McCullough could make fun of her for. What right did she have to pass judgment on his choice of company?

  Face tight with regret, she turned and said, “Kelly, wait.”

  He stilled but didn’t face her.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  His fists were pressed deep in the pockets of his jeans. His shoulders hunched and he slowly pivoted, that carefree smile back in place. “No problem, love. Just calling them like you see them.”

  Her brow tightened. Was that what he thought? She didn’t want him to think she was a cruel or judgmental person when really, her nasty words were nothing more than jealousy fueled by her own insecurities. “No. That’s not how I see you,” she admitted quietly.

  His smile twitched, but he managed to hold it in place. Those blue eyes studied her and she noticed something peculiar hidden behind all that handsome perfection, something insecure, perhaps a little wounded. Maybe he was used to being stereotyped.

  “You said you weren’t used to girls knowing how to fix cars. I got offended and lashed out. I didn’t mean to come off judgmental, especially when I know exactly how much it stinks to be judged.”

  His smile faded the longer he watched her. Fidgeting under his scrutiny, she swallowed, waiting for him to accept her apology. As if he reached some sort of conclusion, his smirk jumped back in place. “Like I said, love, you’re just calling them like you see them. You got my number and I got yours. Have a nice day.”

  Her mouth opened but he twisted and marched off before she could formulate a reply. What? What did he mean he had her number? No, she wasn’t all that complicated, but she’d like to think she had some depth, that there was something more beneath the surface worth figuring out.

  What a jerk. She wasn’t falling for his womanizing act. No man could be that shallow. After years of watching him, she’d seen hidden moments where his focus drifted and his smile faltered as if he was exhausted with putting on the charm. There was no denying Kelly was a funny and entertaining person to be around, but…so much of it was a performance.

  Ashlynn shook her head. The traffic was backing up from the intersection. She didn’t have time to stand there and figure out a man as complicated as Kelly McCullough.

  Ernie wasn’t at the shop. Luckily, his house was only a few blocks past and she found him on his way out to breakfast. He made a special trip to tow her truck to the market and waited as she unloaded her supply, then towed it back to her house. When she offered to pay him, he refused. She made a mental note to bag up some items on Monday and take them to his wife as a thank you.

  She’d missed church and when her father stopped by her home she was a mite filthier than she’d been that morning. He called her name, as she was half-buried under the hood of her truck, inspecting the engine.

  “Lynn? You missed church.”

  Unfolding her body, she wiped her grease stained fingers on a rag. “I know, Daddy. Sorry about that. My truck broke down.”

  Her dad’s expression changed from one of disappointment to one of concern, as he removed his good jacket and came to see what was doin’ under the hood. “You figure out what the problem is?”

  “I’m pretty sure it’s the transmission.”

  He whistled, not questioning her diagnosis. “That’s an expensive fix. I know a guy who might have a scrapper with a salvageable tranny.”

  She sighed. “I’m wondering if I should start thinking about buying new.”

  “A new truck’ll run you around forty thousand.”

  “I know.” She had the money. Didn’t want to spend it, but had it all the same.

  “I’d like to see you driving in one of those fancy models with all the safety bells and whistles. It’d give your old man a sense of security.”

  Taking in his weathered face, wrinkled with years of working under the sun, she grinned. Beneath all that gruff and grizzle, Roy Fisher was nothin’ but a big marshmallow who loved his family. Since losing her mother, Ashlynn was all the family he had left and she was just fine with being Daddy’s little girl. “It would be nice to get one of those four door ones, maybe in a pretty color.”

  “Now, don’t you go bringing home a pink truck.”

  She laughed. She was not the pink sort and he knew it. “I was thinking a pretty, pearly white one.”

  He nodded approvingly. “Why don’t you get cleaned up and we’ll take a ride down to Jenkin’s lot? They aren’t open today, but we could look around without old Jenkins breathing down our necks.”

  “But it’s your birthday. I was going to cook.”

  “So you’ll cook when we get back. Come on. It’ll be fun.”

  Later that day when they returned from window-shopping at Jenkin’s, Ashlynn’s father kept her company in the kitchen as she prepared supper.

  “That red truck was nice to look at. Extended cab, leather seats…”

  She sprinkled sugar over the fresh cut berries. “I liked that white one. Did you see when the sun hit it right there were sparkles in the paint?”

  Roy chuckled as he sipped his lemonade. “A sparkling truck… had to have been made for a woman.”

  Ashlynn smirked. “I may not dress the part, but there’s a girl in me somewhere, Daddy.”

  “I know, sug.”

  She’d learned how to conquer her adolescence under the guidance of her father and his farmhands. No one ever taught her how to put on makeup or do her hair in one of those fancy braids or twists. Even when it came to perfume, she had a strange appreciation for Old Spice rather than bouquets of floral scents or female tailored musks.

  Her dad took her shopping at places like Cabelas and other sporting good outlets and that was where she found most of her clothes. She really didn’t have a style. Her clothing was functional and lent itself to her job as an organic farmer. There was no need for a girl who owned the local farmer’s market to wear fancy shoes or short skirts. Besides, skirts didn’t come with pockets to hold her utility knife and other implements necessary for the job.

  No, she wasn’t a girlie girl, but she never felt pressed to pretend to be more than who she truly was. Tapping her fingers over her fathers, she smiled tenderly at him. The world may not get or appreciate her, but her daddy sure did.

  She worked in comfortable silence, her dad stealing a swipe of frosting with his work-roughened finger every time he had the chance. As she waited for the cake to cool, she poured herself a glass of lemonade and settled across from him at the aged kitchen table.

  He stared at her for a long moment then said, “Another birthday, another year… makes a man feel his age. I find myself slowing down and getting nostalgic more and more as time goes on.”

  She grinned, knowing he was likely thinking about her momma. They didn’t often speak of her, but she knew her father missed her as much as she did. “I miss her too, Daddy.”

  His thumb flipped the corner of the placemat, his eyes focused on the table. “You know, having your mother made me complete. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of her. Even though I only had her with me for a short time, I’ll never regret picking her as my wife. She gave me you and I can’t imagine a day without my sugar bear.”

  She smiled into her lemonade. He’d always called her that, his little sugar bear.

  “You know,” he continued. “I ain’t getting any younger. Been farming this land since I was a teen. I know you have your organic gardens and such, but I don’t think you’re lookin’ to take over the rest.”

  She frowned. “Why would I—”

  “I’m no spring chicken, sug. It’s only you and me here. I’d like to have my wits when it comes time to sell so we aren’t forced to take less than what we deserve.”

  If she’d been a boy they wouldn’t be having this conversat
ion. “I could do it, Daddy.”

  “I know you could. There isn’t much you can’t do, but it’s a matter of wanting to, sug. I don’t want to shoulder you with more than you need.”

  “Well, that’s a time away. For now you have Hank and the rest of the hands to help where they can.”

  He nodded and she sensed he wanted to say more. “What is it?”

  He hesitated a moment, uncertainty skating over his strong features. “I worry about you. One day I won’t be here to keep you company.”

  Her heart pinched. Her father was a strong and healthy man for his late fifties. This conversation was beyond premature. “I’ll be fine, Daddy. Now, stop acting like you’re leaving this world tomorrow.”

  He patted her hand and met her gaze. “Why don’t you try to find a nice boy, Lynn, someone who loves you as much as I do? It would sure put your old man’s mind at ease.”

  She pursed her lips. It wasn’t like she spent her days beating men off with a stick. The only men she interacted with were her father’s age. “It isn’t that easy, Daddy.”

  His eyes creased with regret. “I should’ve tried harder to keep you around women. I feel like I failed you in a way, sug. I don’t know nothing about ribbons and bows or dancin’ and pearls.”

  She turned her palm up and squeezed her father’s large hand. “I don’t need any of those things.”

  “You’re such a good girl, but I kept you sheltered here at the farm away from the town. I wish others got to see how sweet you are. I reckon, if they all knew your kindness, I’d have spent your high school years guarding the porch with my rifle.”

  She laughed. “You’d only wind up misfiring and hurtin’ yourself, Daddy.” Seeing her father was in the mood for a heart to heart, she hesitated a moment and then let the confession slip. “There’s one man…”

  His eyebrows lifted and he grinned. “Should I load my gun?”

  She laughed again. “No, leave your ammo in the drawer. He barely knows my name.”

  “So why don’t you tell him? Ask him out on a date?”