by J. Bengtsson
Who knew I could be such a spineless wimp when presented with unparalleled hotness? This was just painful now. Maybe it was the unpredictable nature of his being, or maybe it was my guilt for having eye-fucked him in the parking lot, but whatever it was, my body was responding. I was like a volcano that had lain dormant for a century only to be awakened by a magnificent rock tossed into its core. And now all that molten fury was just churning around, waiting for its chance to erupt.
My female reproductive system wasn’t the only thing with a life of its own; my eyes were also wildly off kilter. Once they finally looked back up, they scanned every inch of the beautiful man, taking note of each blemish and categorizing the shades that swam in his light blue eyes. They’d already calculated the time since his last shave – yesterday afternoon – just enough time to dust his jawline with grit but not enough to qualify as stubble.
My restless eyes traveled downward over his grimy body. Nothing escaped my notice, not the strapping chest or the bronzed skin or the dirt flecks on his denim crotch. But it was the grease stain on the man’s thigh, and how he’d chosen to tackle it, that snapped me out of my pheromone-induced infatuation. Just as I’d suspected he would, the mechanic had chosen to simply rub the spot with water, and now the stain was double in size. No way could I let such a gaffe slide.
“Paper towels,” I blurted out.
“Excuse me?”
“You need to blot grease stains with paper towels, then sprinkle them with some baby powder. Afterwards, you should be able to scrape it off with a spoon.”
Ass-guy had an expression on his face I couldn’t quite read. Clearly my interruption had robbed him of the words he’d prepared to dazzle me with. No matter. He was quick on his feet.
“And to think, today of all days, I left my baby powder at home.”
His response took me by surprise, and I laughed unexpectedly.
He beamed, as if making me chuckle had been on his agenda from the very beginning.
“Salt and baking soda work too… if you even care.”
“I actually don’t… but if it bothers you that much, I guess I could give it a try.”
“I’m not bothered.”
Yes. I was. So incredibly hot and bothered.
He smirked in a knowing way. Somehow, he already had me pegged. How could he know that his lackluster approach to sanitation was driving me frickin’ insane? If I could do it without looking like a complete freak, I’d be on my knees sprinkling him with white, fluffy dust and scraping the muck off myself.
“I just don’t like…” I began, stopping my sentence to flick my eyes over him. “Messes.”
The parking lot mechanic picked up on my diss right away and found it wildly funny. I hadn’t really been joking, but whatever. Damn, these regular, down-home type boys were easy to please. I felt myself relaxing under his friendly gaze, and that warm tingle returned. Maybe I’d been putting too much stock in deodorized metrosexuals. Could it really be that I craved a little stink in my life? God knows this guy could deliver.
“So, um… I almost forgot what I came over here for.” His eyes again connected to mine, and the intrigue in them told me I had his full attention. How, I had no idea. After all my stupid schoolgirl antics, I was surprised he hadn’t run far away in the opposite direction. “Anyway, I guess you saw that my truck crapped out on me. Sorry about the language out there. I didn’t know anyone was watching.”
Oh, yes. I’d been watching. I decided not to mention that I’d been observing him long enough to know that his right butt cheek did a cute little twitch every time he shifted positions or that I knew the exact color and style of his underwear – blue checkered boxer briefs.
“Don’t worry about that.” I shrugged. “I’ve got brothers.”
He smiled again, and as my heart pounded a little faster, I realized something strange was happening… his coiled tresses were becoming more appealing with every word he spoke. My eyes narrowed in on this man standing before me, looking for fault in him and finding it everywhere and nowhere all at once. The rave going on in my lady parts was no joke. I was beguiled. Everything about him was absolutely wrong for me, but for some inexplicable reason, his do-it-yourself charms felt oh so right.
“Anyway, I was just wondering if you happened to be headed to Sun Desert.”
I blinked in surprise. How in the world would he have known that? Was he a reporter? Had he followed me here? Then I remembered that he’d been at the diner first, with his head buried in the engine when I’d arrived.
“Your clothes.” He smiled at my obvious confusion. “You look like you might be headed there is all.”
Damn Casey and her eye for fashion. The dress she’d picked was too revealing, and now this guy was assuming things that he needn’t be. I snapped out of my wide-eyed infatuation. Survival instincts took over. Giving some stranger information about my plans was stupid and risky.
He seemed confused by my lack of response. “So…uh… are you going?”
“Why do you want to know?” I answered his question with my own.
“I’m glad you asked,” he said in a jokey tone, breaking the tension. At the same time, his head did this adorable little tilt, causing my own to feel a tad dizzy. “Because I’m currently looking for a ride.”
I gaped at him. Seriously? As if I were going to drive some tousle-haired transient through the desert! It didn’t matter how hot he was; it wasn’t worth the risk. “Uh, no.”
The grease-stained guy seemed taken aback by my uncompromising reply. Not seeing a need to drag it out any further, I dropped my eyes back down to my book, hoping he’d leave after realizing I had nothing to offer him. But, to my surprise, he just stood there.
“I have some money. I can pay you.”
“I don’t pick up hitchhikers,” I said, without looking up.
“And normally I’d applaud you for that, but I’m in a huge bind here. Plus, technically, I’m not a hitchhiker yet.”
He had a point, although I still wasn’t stupid enough to give him a ride. Putting my book down, I gave him my full attention. “I’m sure you’ll find someone to pick you up.”
“Yeah, some creep with a bloody ax.”
I gave him a full body scan. “You look like a big, sturdy guy. My bet is you just might survive.”
“Surviving has never been my strong suit.” I had no idea what he meant by that statement, but he seemed to find it amusing, so I gave him a courtesy smile in response.
He must have taken my momentary lapse in judgment as a sign to up the begging. “Come on, please help me out. I’m going to miss the entire first day of the festival if I die.”
This dude really wasn’t very committed to his survival. “I fail to see how that’s my problem.”
Again he seemed caught off-guard by my aloofness; obviously he knew nothing of my resting bitch face condition.
“It’s not your problem, per se. I was just appealing to your humanity.”
Oh, geez. Humanity? He was digging deep. “How do you know I’m not an ax murderer?”
“You’re reading a romance novel.”
I glanced down at my book with a half naked guy on the cover. Embarrassed, I turned it over.
“So can you help me out?” There was a teasing tone to his voice, and when I met his eye, he grinned in the sweet and affecting way that had unexpectedly started up my very rusty engines. Lord. He was laying on the charm. I wasn’t sure if I’d survive this stage of the assault. This was precisely the type of guy I’d sworn off years ago for my own safety. They were just too easy to fall for. I needed to nip this in the bud immediately.
“You seem like a good guy,” I said, “and I’d like to help you out, but I just can’t.”
He stared at me a moment, obvious disappointment oozing from his soiled pores. “Okay, I get it. Sorry for bothering you.”
I nodded as he turned and walked away without another word. My barely revived libido puttered to an uninspired halt. There went the firs
t flicker of carnal excitement I’d had in a very long while. Suddenly I missed my cat.
Even though the ass mechanic was no longer my problem, I couldn’t help but steal glances at him over the pages of my now totally laughable book. This author knew nothing of white-hot chemistry. I seriously doubted she’d ever had a lust-worthy hobo turn her insides into a quaking pit of searing lava. Slamming the book closed in disgust, I questioned my need for control at all times. It wasn’t just my self-imposed marriage ban that kept a stranglehold on my emotions; it was also my asinine obsession with perfection and safety. Everything in my world, right down to the tiniest piece of dust, posed a threat to my orderly life, and I found myself becoming exhausted trying to stay ahead of it all. This wasn’t the first time I’d felt the desire to step out of my comfort zone, but it certainly was the strongest.
Of course, denying a strange man a trip through the desert was the smart and sane choice, and I stood by the decision. My beef was with the long-term effects of my safety-first approach. Was it taking away my ability to live a normal life, or was it truly preventing me from dying at the hands of a hot, greasy drifter? I mean, this guy was a complete stranger. Just because he was highly attractive did not automatically disqualify him from psychopathic tendencies. For all I knew, he punched babies and pulled the wings off butterflies in his spare time. No, erring on the side of caution was always the right choice. What good was regret if I was dead?
Shrugging off the indecision, I kept my eyes firmly on the mechanic as he went table to table using that same charm he’d displayed for me on the other diners in hopes of getting a lift to the concert. And one after another, they turned him down. What a bunch of assholes. Just because I refused to place myself in peril, didn’t mean they shouldn’t. Selfish, I know. I was like one of those over-zealous mothers who took the risk of not vaccinating her own kid in hopes that all the moms in a hundred mile radius of her would.
My resolve fading fast, I was now seriously reconsidering my decision. If no one else offered him a ride, what would he do? I’d be lying if I said I secretly hoped he wouldn’t get one. I imagined myself swooping in, saving the day and enjoying sloppy sex with the grease-splattered refugee.
The cute guy’s whoop of joy shattered my dirty daydream, and I smiled at his good fortune. Just because I couldn’t be his hero didn’t mean he shouldn’t be saved. I watched with interest as he bounded out to his broken down truck. To say it was a piece of junk would be an insult to rubbish the world over. This was the type of vehicle you prayed didn’t rear-end you because you just knew the person driving it had no insurance.
My parking lot obsession pulled both a backpack and a rolled up mat out of the cab and then spent the next couple of minutes trying to shut the passenger side door. No matter what he did, the door kept popping back open, so he took to kicking it as a last resort. I giggled at the show he was putting on. With physical force clearly not working in his favor, the mechanic switched his brain to the ‘on’ position and used it to find a piece of rope to tie the door to the frame. I shook my head, grinning. He’d be lucky if someone stole the thing while he was at the concert.
Once he’d finally left with his ride, four college-age guys wearing muscle-baring tank tops and short shorts, I exhaled dramatically, effectively releasing the tension that had collected in me since I first laid eyes on his scruffiness. I hated self-doubt. It was so taxing. I’d made the right choice, not only for my physical well-being but for my mental health. A man with all that handsome messiness and slovenly charm was hazardous to my very existence – the kind of guy who pushed the limits and wanted his woman to be as fun and adventurous as he was.
That eliminated me right off the bat. There was nothing exciting and fresh about me, and the men I chose were as predictable, classically dressed, and wooden as I was. They were handsome, cocky assholes, arrogant enough to assume they were the ones using me. And when the sun came up, these faceless surrogates were easy to turn my back on and never see again. I stuck to the self-involved jerks for one very specific reason: I’d never fall in love with a guy I couldn’t stand.
After getting word from my parents that they were delayed by an hour, I took my time in the diner. No point in hurrying if I was just going to be hanging out alone in the hotel room. I ordered a vanilla shake and happily slurped the drink while I went back to reading my book. After the mechanic left and my hyped up sexual tension abated, I was more willing to accept the characters for who they were – boring excuses for human beings with a penchant for unconventional sex. I still didn’t buy the chemistry, but at least it was reciprocated between the two, unlike my one-sided infatuation.
Once back on the road, I joined a new group of cars now making their way through the desert and thought wistfully of all those lucky souls I’d been traveling with earlier. They were probably already at their destination. And now I had to get to know a whole new group of drivers. Pathetic, I know, but keeping track of my travel companions was a way to pass the time and provided a source of entertainment as I imagined what their day was like. Not surprisingly, they all had more exotic lives than I did.
Today, however, was pleasantly different, and that was a nice change of pace. I wondered what the mechanic’s name was and what he did for a living, because clearly he was no mechanic. With a truck like that, he obviously wasn’t rolling in dough. The endless daydreaming passed the time quickly, and before I knew it, I saw a sign for the fairgrounds and found myself in a long line of cars headed to the festival. My hotel was a few miles further up the road, so I knew I was going to be stuck in this crap until all the cars in front of me started piling into the fairground parking lots.
On the right side of the road, headed toward me and away from the fairgrounds, was a lone figure, lugging a backpack over his shoulder and a rolled up mat under his arm. It couldn’t be. But as I got closer, I could see him clearly: it was the guy from the diner. But what the hell was he doing leaving the festival after working so hard to get there? So curious was I that I actually pulled over and rolled down my window. The guy was drenched in sweat and had a seriously disgruntled look on his overheated face. Gone was the charming beggar.
“The concert is that way,” I said, pointing in the opposite direction.
He glared at me, not appreciating my attempt at humor. “Yeah, I get that.”
“Okay, I was just making sure you knew.”
“Do you have a bottle of water or something? I am dying out here.”
It was hot. In fact, I had just glanced at my temperature gauge moments before and had groaned at the 97-degree heat taunting me. I sure as hell wouldn’t want to be walking around in it anymore than the hot guy.
“I already drank out of it,” I said, holding up my water bottle.
“I don’t care. Please,” he begged.
This was not the same affable guy from earlier. There was a sense of urgency to his request, so I handed him my bottle and watched him guzzle it down in huge, dragging gulps. He handed it back to me empty.
“Sorry. I drank it all.”
It wasn’t like I was going to touch my lips to that bottle after his had been there anyway.
“That’s okay. I’ll get another one at the hotel.”
He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and flicked his wrist, sending sweat flying, thankfully not in my direction. “I’ll give you a couple dollars to buy another one.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“No. Here,” he said, pulling a few crumpled dollars from his pocket.
I held my hand up. “It’s okay.”
“Are you sure?”
I nodded.
“Okay, well, thanks for stopping. Have fun,” he said, before dropping his head in despair. I watched as the grungy drifter continued on his way.
“You seem a little…uh…upset,” I called out to him. He stopped – kicking up dirt, of course – then backtracked to my open window. His eyes narrowed in on me before he squared his shoulders.
; “Do I?” he asked, with an edge to his voice. “Huh. Well, I guess it has something to do with being told that the wristband my roommate bought on Hollywood Boulevard was a fucking fake!”
“No!”
“Oh, yeah. I mean, he bought it from a scalper. Those guys are notorious scam artists. What the hell was I thinking? Of course this was going to happen. I’m such an idiot. Dammit!”
The guy wasn’t even really talking to me anymore. He was too busy berating himself. I waited for him to finish before offering up my sympathy. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
I swear he looked close to tears… or maybe it was eye sweat. Was that a thing? Poor guy. His frustration and exhaustion were plain to see, and I genuinely felt sorry for him.
“You’ve had a really bad day.”
He peered at me through the window. Suddenly a smile wiped out the aggravated expression. “I know. Fuck. Right?”
“At least you weren’t murdered by a bloody ax guy.”
“Well, there’s that,” he nodded. “Way to look on the bright side.”
“That’s my specialty,” I said, even though it was such a lie. I rarely, if ever, took the optimistic view of anything. “So what are you going to do now?”
“I was planning on finding a drainage ditch and crying myself to sleep. Why? What are you going to do today?” He grinned, some of his earlier charm returning.
“Oh, you know, I was going to watch a bunch of cool bands.”
“Oh, yeah. Huh. Great idea.”
I grinned, feeling suddenly braver than I had in years. I wanted to help him, and for the first time in a long time, I didn’t let my hang-ups hold me back.
