The Fixer Upper

by Mary Kay Andrews

He kissed my bare shoulder, groaned, and stood up. “Come on then,” he said, tugging me by the hand. I barely had time to grab up my clothes.

  “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” I said as he pulled me out of the living room and into the kitchen. The only light there was the LED display on the range. “I just…feel like I’m back in high school, getting felt up by my boyfriend out in the driveway, while my dad’s inside, peering out the window.”

  He stopped in his tracks with a look of mock outrage on his face. “You let your boyfriend feel you up? In high school? What kind of nice girl does something like that?”

  “I was a senior,” I explained. “And he swore he wouldn’t try anything below the waist.”

  “I would hope not,” Tee said, backing me up against the refrigerator. He cupped one hand under my butt, and with the other hand, tugged at the waistband of my panties, rolling them down with agonizing slowness.

  “You didn’t let the guy do anything like this, right?” he said, nuzzling my neck, and exploring between my legs.

  I gasped. “Never. Swear to God.”

  “Good,” Tee said.

  I let my fingertips trail down his chest, and bent and kissed his nipples. My fingers found his zipper. I tugged it down an inch and stopped, hooking one finger inside the fly of his briefs.

  “Will you still respect me?” I asked.

  He clamped his hand over my own. “You won’t believe how much I’ll respect you.”

  I pressed my hips into his and locked my arms around his neck. He reached around my back and with a single swift motion unhooked my bra.

  “I don’t know,” I said, nipping his earlobe and letting my bra fall to the floor. “You’ve got some pretty expert moves. You weren’t one of those fast guys my mother warned me about, were you?”

  He cupped one of my breasts in his hand and put his lips to the nipple. A moment later, he looked up at me. “Me? Fast? Nah. Slow and steady, that’s my motto.”

  He was true to his word too. He explored my body in exquisite detail, touching and kissing me until I forgot who I was and where I was.

  “Tee,” I finally managed. “Isn’t there someplace else we could do this?”

  Before he could answer, there was a loud clatter behind me. I jumped, and Tee took a step backward, nearly stumbling in the process. He righted himself, and hitched up his slacks with one hand. I giggled nervously despite myself.

  “It’s just the damned ice maker,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “Sorry.”

  “Come on,” he said. “We’re through in here.”

  I grabbed up my bundle of clothes and followed him into a small utility room that smelled of bleach and detergent. A wooden rod held a row of freshly laundered hanging clothes, and beside it was a shelf unit of cleaning supplies.

  “Here?” I asked, looking with alarm at the gleaming white washer and dryer.

  “Not here,” Tee said. He took me in his arms again. “Although, come to think of it, if we waited till the spin cycle…”

  “Forget it,” I said, shivering in the unheated room. He pulled me closer, and his hands roamed down my bare spine. “You never fantasized about doing dirty things in the laundry room?”

  “Honestly? No.”

  He sighed. “We’re going to have to work on your imagination, Dempsey Killebrew.” He took a flannel shirt off a hanger and draped it over my shoulders, pulling my arms into the sleeves, but leaving it unbuttoned, his hands deliberately grazing my breasts.

  “Shoes?” he asked, glancing down at my bare feet.

  “Where are you taking me?” I asked. “Tee, I’m nearly naked. I can’t.”

  He put his fingers to my lips. “Shh.” He kissed me lightly.

  There was a peg rack of coats and jackets by the back door, and on the floor, a row of boots and shoes neatly lined up. He knelt at my feet and lifted my right foot. He kissed the instep, and then slipped my foot into a bleached-out sneaker three sizes too big. He lifted my left foot and did the same thing. He ran his hands up the back of my calves, and I shivered in expectation. He kissed one of my knees, and then the other, running his hands up the front of my thighs. He clasped my butt in both hands, and kissed the bare skin below my navel, and then below that, his beard scratching at my tender skin.

  “Oh my God, Tee,” I begged.

  He stood up without another word, and slid his feet into a pair of loafers. He opened the back door. I gasped as the cold air hit my naked skin. He grabbed my hand and pulled me out the door.

  “Come on,” he urged.

  The full moon spilled pale yellow light onto a small, brick-walled garden. A tall tree’s budded-out limbs stretched toward the sky, and hedges of knee-high boxwood outlined beds of bare-limbed rosebushes. Pea gravel crunched beneath our feet as Tee steered me down the garden path.

  As my eyes grew accustomed to the half-light, I could make out a small outbuilding at the end of the path. It was white clapboard, with a steeply pitched roof and a pocket-size screened porch.

  Tee pushed the screen door open, and it slapped shut behind us. The porch was only big enough for two painted wooden rocking chairs. Ignoring them, Tee wrenched the wooden door open, its hinges screeching in protest.

  Moonlight streamed into the room through a window high in the pitched roof. We were standing in one large room, open to exposed rafters. Everything was unpainted wood—floors, walls, and ceilings. It smelled like the inside of a forest. There was a desk, piled high with papers, and a computer, against one wall, and a chair shoved up to it. I could see a small closet through a half-open door, and on the far wall, facing me, another half-open door revealed what looked like a bathroom.

  A highly polished mahogany four-poster bed took up most of the room, its covers rumpled, pillows piled high. A shirt and a pair of jeans were slung over one of the posters.

  “What is this place?” I asked, running my hand over the plank walls.

  “It’s my place,” Tee said, closing the door behind us and making a show of locking it. “Sorry about the mess. I wasn’t expecting company tonight.”

  “Your place? You don’t live in the big house?”

  “Nope.” He took me by the hand until we were standing at the foot of the bed. “It used to be a potting shed. Dad and I built it for Mom one summer.”

  “This was a potting shed?” I stepped out of the sneakers. The pine boards were cool and smooth underfoot. “Pretty fancy.”

  “She liked to come out here and sit and read her gardening books and seed catalogs,” Tee said. “Dad had it plumbed, and put in heat and air too. He thought she needed her own space, since he had a den, and, of course, the law office. She loved it out here. I was living in my own place, in town, but after she died, Dad seemed pretty lonely. I sure as hell wasn’t ready to move back in here after being out on my own all that time, but then, I got to thinking about the shed, and it seemed like it might be a good compromise.”

  “It’s wonderful,” I said, clasping my arms around his waist. “Like a little playhouse.”

  “Guys don’t play house,” Tee said. He kissed me for a long time.

  I shrugged out of my flannel shirt. “You don’t know what you’ve been missing.”

  We both dozed off, and when I awoke, I was on my side, with Tee spooned up behind me, one bare arm slung over my side, his hand cupped around my breast. His breath was warm and sweet on my neck. I wriggled out from under him. He rolled to the other side of the bed.

  I got up and went into the bathroom. I looked at myself in the mirror. My hair was wild, my cheeks and neck and chest scraped pink from beard burn. I tiptoed back out into the main room and groped around on the floor until I found my panties and the flannel shirt. I had no idea where the rest of my clothes were. I sat down at Tee’s desk and moved the mouse on his computer until the screen came glowingly to light. It was nearly 4 A.M.

  I went over and sat on the side of the bed. I kissed Tee’s lips lightly. He smiled, but didn’t open his eyes. I kissed
him again, parting his lips with the tip of my tongue.

  “Mmm. Nice,” he said, pulling me down onto the bed beside him. “Are we gonna play house again?” He nuzzled my neck and pushed the sheet down to show me how ready he was to resume play.

  “No,” I laughed regretfully. “Listen, Tee. I’ve got to get home.”

  “Noooo,” he said, moaning and rolling over with his back to me.

  “Seriously,” I said. “Home. Please?”

  He rolled back over. “Stay. Please?” He grabbed a handful of the flannel shirt and gently tugged. He frowned. “You’re dressed. I like undressed better.”

  “Me too,” I admitted. He was adorable, with his hair mussed and his eyes heavy lidded with sleep and desire. The most adorable man I’d ever seen, naked or not. I bent to kiss him, and that was a mistake. He ran his hands up under the flannel shirt, and I felt my resolve begin to melt.

  “See?” he said, yawning, his fingers lazily circling my nipple. “You know you want to stay.”

  “Can’t,” I said, maneuvering out of his reach. I had to avoid temptation.

  “It’s the middle of the night, baby,” Tee protested, propping himself up on one elbow. “Come back to bed. I’ll take you home first thing in the morning. I’ll even fix you breakfast. Biscuits. Did you know I can make biscuits?”

  “Another time,” I promised. “It’s almost four. I’ll stay next time. But right now I’ve really, really got to get home. Bobby’s coming today, and he always shows up right at daylight. I’ve still got to get those cupboard doors sanded—”

  Tee swung his legs over the side of the bed. “And you don’t want Bobby Livesey to catch you sneaking up the front walk with your panties in your pocketbook and a smile on your face.”

  I blushed.

  “I knew it,” Tee said, yawning again. “Still worried about your reputation.” He stood up and padded, naked, toward the bathroom. I watched him go, savoring the sight of his slim hips tapering down to pale, muscular buns. He looked over his shoulder and caught me watching. I blushed again.

  “Some renegade you are.”

  38

  While we’d been steaming up the windows in Tee’s shed, the temperature outside seemed to have dropped a good twenty degrees. I ran through the boxwood garden and stood expectantly by the back door. “Hurry,” I urged, as he fumbled with the door to the utility room. “I’m freezing.”

  “Keep your pants on,” he muttered, jiggling the door handle. He glanced back at me and laughed, as I hopped up and down, wearing nothing more than panties, a flannel shirt, and a pair of his old shoes.

  “It’s not funny,” I said, my teeth chattering. “I think my fanny’s getting frostbite.”

  “The damned thing’s stuck,” he announced.

  “Let me try,” I said, nearly shoving him aside. I jiggled and pulled, but the door wouldn’t budge. “What about the front door?”

  He grimaced. “Don’t you remember? I locked the dead bolt.”

  “What?”

  “As I recall, you were worried about Dad dropping in on us.”

  “And now I’m worried I’ll freeze to death out here,” I said. “Don’t you have another door into the house? How will your dad get in if the dead bolt’s set?”

  “There’s a door from the garage into the kitchen,” Tee said.

  “Fine. Show me the way.’

  “Can’t. The only way into the garage is with the automatic clicker thingy.”

  “In your pants pocket, right?”

  “My jacket pocket,” he said sadly. “Which I think is in the living room.”

  “Shit!” I cried through lips that were rapidly turning blue. “You did this on purpose.”

  He crossed his hands over his T-shirt-covered chest. “Swear to God. It never occurred to me. Baby, I was in such a hurry to get into the house and your pants, it didn’t dawn on me that you’d need to make a fast getaway.”

  “Now what?” I wailed. “How am I going to get my clothes?”

  He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close. “We go back to bed, where it’s nice and warm. Dad’ll be home in a couple of hours. He’ll let us in.”

  “Oh no,” I cried. “I can’t face your father like this. What’ll he think?”

  Tee gazed down at my bare legs. “He’ll think I’m one lucky sumbitch.”

  I thumped his chest. “Not funny.” I turned around and headed back toward the potting shed, walking as fast as the oversize shoes would let me.

  “Now you’re talking,” Tee said, hurrying to catch up with me.

  Inside the shed, I pulled aside the covers on the bed. I searched the chair beside the bed, then got down on my hands and knees to look under the bed.

  Tee stood in the doorway, watching the spectacle with obvious enjoyment. “Whatya lookin’ for?” he asked.

  “The clicker thingy,” I said. “I’ll bet it was in your pants pocket, along with your car keys. I definitely remember those keys jingling when—”

  “You were peeling me out of my britches at the height of your animal lust?”

  I shot him a dirty look.

  “I’m just sayin’.”

  I finally found the khaki slacks on the back of the chair by the computer.

  “Aha!” I said, triumphantly holding up the car keys. “Now will you take me home?”

  “Sure,” he said, taking the keys from me. “But you’re gonna have to give me back my shirt and my shoes first.”

  “There’s not a key to the house on this key ring?”

  He shook his head sadly. “Sure. But there’s that dead bolt thing…”

  “Dammit, Tee,” I fumed. “This really isn’t funny. You’re just gonna have to give me some pants or something to put on for the ride home.”

  “Okay,” he said. He went into the closet and came out with a pair of drawstring flannel pajama bottoms. They were hot pink, decorated with red cartoon cupids. He tossed them to me.

  I raised an eyebrow.

  “Christmas present from an aunt in Florida,” he said. “She might be senile.”

  I stepped into the pants and snugged the drawstring as tight as I could, but the bottoms were still so big they looked like clown pants. “All right, funny guy,” I said. “Take me home.”

  Tee hummed happily as he drove through the predawn darkness. I shot him another dirty look, which he pretended not to notice.

  “Do you really think your dad spent the night out with that woman?” I asked, trying in vain to finger-comb my hair.

  Tee yawned widely. “Who knows? Dad’s not one to kiss and tell.” He picked up my hand and kissed the back of it. “And neither am I.”

  “That’s sweet,” I said, softening. “But before I spend another night with you, I want my own set of keys, and my own clicker thingy for the garage door.”

  He grinned. “So…there’s gonna be a next time?”

  “Do you want there to be?”

  He looked surprised. “Dempsey, what did you think was happening back at my place tonight?”

  I blushed and looked away.

  “Hey.” He pulled the Prius over to the side of the road, but left the motor running.

  “Hey,” he said it softly, putting his hand under my chin and turning my head toward him so that I had no place else to look. His dark eyes glittered. “I’m falling for you, Dempsey. Do you not know that?”

  I felt a lump in my throat. I swallowed hard. “Do you really know what you’re getting into here, Tee? We had fun tonight. But maybe we should just leave things like that. Just fun.”

  “Uh-uh,” he said, shaking his head vigorously. “I wasn’t kidding earlier when I told you I’m the slow and steady type. Fun’s good. Fun’s great. But I want more than that. I’m not some oversexed frat-boy type like Jimmy Maynard, Dempsey. I want you. And I think you want me too.”

  “You don’t know me,” I said, tears springing up unexpectedly. “You can’t know what I want. I don’t even know that.”

  He sighed deeply. “
Have it your way then.” He put the Prius into gear and pulled back onto the road. His shoulders had that tensed, squared-off look again.

  Five minutes later, he pulled into the driveway at Birdsong. The house was dark. A light blinked on in the upstairs bedroom, and then off again, just as quickly.

  “Oh God. Ella Kate’s spying on me,” I fretted. “She saw me leave earlier with Jimmy. What’s she gonna think when she sees me coming home with you? Looking like this?” I pulled at the fabric of the pink flannel pajama bottoms.

  Tee shook his head. “She damned sure ain’t gonna think any worse of you than you already think of yourself.” He got out of the car and came around to my side and opened my door.

  I climbed out of the Prius and reached for his hand, but he held it stiffly by his side. He left me at the bottom porch step. “I’ll get your clothes back to you today,” he said. He walked rapidly away, and in a second was swallowed up in the predawn darkness.

  I fell into my bed dressed in the clothes I’d come home wearing, and went right to sleep. I didn’t dream of Tee, or Jimmy Maynard, or even Alex Hodder. I dreamed about the house. I dreamed I answered the doorbell, and Mitch and Pilar were standing on the doorstep with the twins and a mile-high stack of luggage.

  In my dream, I was showing Mitch all the work I’d done on Birdsong, but everything was changed. We walked into rooms I’d never seen before. They were ugly, crowded with trash and ruined furniture, windows streaked with dirt. Mitch was speechless with anger and Pilar was screaming because she couldn’t find the boys, and all the doors had suddenly disappeared.

  I awoke suddenly, my heart pounding, the flannel shirt drenched in sweat. I looked at the clock on the nightstand. It was only 6 A.M. I knew I wouldn’t sleep anymore.

  I showered and dressed in my work clothes. Down in the kitchen, the harsh yellow light from the bare overhead bulb seemed somehow reassuring. Here was the floor I’d refinished. There were the cabinets I’d stripped. It was all there, even the strong chemical odor of stripper. I could see and touch and smell the concrete results of my hard work. I brewed a pot of coffee and poured myself a huge mug. I gulped down the coffee and went back to work.