Fixed Infatuation

by Stacy Borel

  “I got you. Now leave the power tools and go to bed. You’re going to need your energy.”

  That was a loaded statement.

  As soon as he left I covered my mouth with my hand. A girly squeal bubbled up, but I ended up laughing instead. This was certainly a turn of events I hadn’t expected. My head felt like it was in a whirlwind. Blake was pushing just about every button I had, and some I didn’t even know existed. Then he went and said he wanted to try and take me out. Well, if being up early in the morning was considered going out. Either way, whether he was infuriating me or turning me on, one thing was certain—I was going somewhere with my asshole neighbor, and I was thrilled about it.

  BLAKE SHOWED UP RIGHT at five on the dot. When he knocked on the door instead of just coming in like he had been the last couple weeks, I smiled. I didn’t know anything about what we were going to do, but he said to dress in something I could get dirty in. I had no idea if we were going to be indoors or outside. The mornings were still brisk, so jeans it was. I put on a pair that were a few years old and a long-sleeved shirt.

  When I opened the door, he greeted me with a quick once-over with his eyes. His smirk told me I was in for something I wasn’t quite ready for. And gathering from his attire, I’d say I was definitely right. He was wearing a black hoodie that was tattered around the neck. It had the popular chain name emblem on the back—Bass Pro Shop. His worn jeans had seen better days. On top of his head his brown hair was currently covered by a dark gray beanie. Even before the birds were singing, Blake was sexy. In comparison to my raggedy self. I was wearing similar jeans, but mine had paint splatters all over them. I had a maroon-colored thermal top I didn’t mind if it got messy or not.

  As promised, he was holding coffee that was in a cup from the place in town. I didn’t even know they were open this early. He held it out to me and I took it from him.

  “Mornin’. You ready to go?”

  I wrapped my hands around the paper cup. “Yes, I suppose so. Care to tell me where we’re going?”

  He eyed me skeptically. Reaching out and picking up a lock of my hair, his nearness was waking me up a little faster than my cup of joe was going to. “Might want to get a hair tie to put this all up with.” He dropped his hand. “It’ll get in the way. Not that I don’t appreciate you leaving it down for me.”

  I glowered. “I didn’t do it for you.” Actually I had.

  “Mhmm.”

  “Well, let me put some cream in this and I’ll meet you in the car.”

  He smirked. “So prissy.”

  I rolled my eyes and left him standing at the door. After I tossed my hair into a messy bun and doctored my drink, I headed outside. Blake was loading some things into the back of an old red Ford truck. It was one I’d never seen before.

  “You borrow this thing?”

  He looked at me over the bed. “This old girl? Nah, she’s mine. I’ve had her for about fifteen years now.”

  I nodded. “Fifteen years, huh, so that would make you…”

  “Thirty-five.”

  I sucked in air through my lips and whistled. “Got a few years on me.”

  “Shut up and get in the truck.”

  I laughed and did what he said. We started down the road and were driving along the water. “I haven’t seen this parked in your driveway,” I said matter-of-factly.

  He looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “I keep it by my office. It hauls things around for me. When I was younger I worked enough and saved enough money to buy this. She’s a gas guzzler though, so I went out and got my smaller car to save some money. But for all intents and purposes, I like to keep this around for large items.”

  “Are some of those large items in the back there?”

  “You wanting to know what I have planned?”

  “Duh.”

  He chuckled. “Well, there’s a low tide this morning, so we’re going clam digging.”

  I completely shifted in my seat to stare at him. “Clam what?”

  “Clam digging. It’s a favorite past time for locals. Well… some of us. Consider this me breaking you in.”

  It was now five-thirty in the morning, Blake had me in what Sandra would call ‘play clothes,’ and I was going to go digging up clams? Were we going to be eating these clams? Deciding to embrace the oddity of his version of a date, I pressed my back into the seat and kept my eyes on the water.

  “So how will this work? Don’t we need a permit for this sort of thing? Will there be other people digging with us?”

  “Jesus, you’re inquisitive. For starters, I’ll explain how to do it when we get there. We aren’t far at all. Generally yes, you do need a permit. But this is property that’s in the family, so we can dig all we want. Which answers your last question. We will be the only ones out here. The public places to dig are usually crowded and it’s nowhere near as fun.”

  His family had property with beach front? Just another little fact I’d categorized in my mind under Blake. The drive really was quick. I zoned out, looking at the scenery as we went to a place tucked away from anywhere there were buildings or traffic. He had the window cracked and the smell of fresh salt water was blowing across my nose. I was loving every second.

  When we pulled off the road we drove about another half a mile on dirt before we came to an opening that had sprawling ocean views. It was absolutely breathtaking. He had looked over at me and when my eyes met his, we both smiled.

  “No better place to watch the sun rise.”

  I agreed with him for once. “Well, it’s already light out, so we may have missed the sun.”

  “Nah. It’s still below the horizon. We’ll catch it in the next fifteen minutes.”

  Blake gathered a couple bags in the back. I asked if he needed help and he said no. A large piece of driftwood blocked where the sand began. Stepping over it, he set the bags down.

  Pulling out a pair of rubber boots, he tossed them over to me. “Put these on. It’ll keep your feet dry, but make sure you have them rolled up over your knees or water will get inside them. It’s a little chilly out there, so wet feet will make for cold toes.”

  I nodded. Pulling them on, they were slightly large. I had pretty big feet for a woman. Something I’d gotten from my mom. Today would be a day I was grateful for their size. I could only guess these were Blake’s, but they should stay on okay. When he passed a metal contraption over to me, I raised my brow.

  “It’s called a clam tube. Let’s go out there and I’ll show you what it does.”

  He had one just like mine, along with a couple buckets. As soon as he had his boots on, he guided me out to the water. We walked into an area that the sand was drenched and had a muddy like consistency. My feet sank down a couple inches under my weight.

  “My gosh, this is like glue,” I said, trying to lift my foot. “I’ll call it a win if I don’t fall on my ass trying to walk around out here.”

  He chuckled. “It takes a finesse. You’ll get it down. Anyway, what you want to look for is a small hole or donut shape on the sand. Those are indicators that there’s a razor clam beneath the surface.”

  I nodded. “Like this?” I pointed to a spot that there was a pencil-sized hole that had bubbles come out of it.”

  “Exactly like that.” He set the buckets down. “Taking your clam tube, you’ll put it directly over where you think one is, and you have to push down with the handle. The tube will sink down, and then when you think it’s gone deep enough, you pull it back up and the sand will suction out with it along with the clam.”

  I put my clam tube over the hole. “This looks like a Yosemite Sam explosive.”

  He quirked a smile. “Yeah, sorta.”

  I put my hands on the metal handles and pushed. It was a little tougher than I expected, so I had to put my shoulder into it to get it to drive down into the thick substance. “Geez,” I grunted. “This is a workout.”

  “You got it.” He coached.

  “Is this how deep it goes?”

/>   He grinned. I realized my words had double meaning. “That’s what she said.”

  “You’re a child.”

  “Sometimes, and yes. Try pulling it out now. Once it’s out, the sand will come out of the bottom along with hopefully a clam.”

  I did as he’d instructed. When it came out, a cylinder-shaped wedge of sand poured out of the bottom of the tube. It crumbled when it hit the ground, but there it was. A large oval-shaped clam. There was something white sticking out of it, and it was insanely large.

  “That is the weirdest looking thing I’ve ever seen.” I wrinkled my nose.

  He bent down to pick it up and show me. “What? No way.”

  “I’ve eaten clams, and none of them looked like this monster.”

  “That’s because you’re used to eating the clams on the New England coast. These are different. We have smaller ones, but these make for good eating too. This right here”—he pointed to the white part—“is the foot. It’s what digs down into the sand and buries them.”

  Huh, learn something new every day. I inspected the gargantuan sea creature. It was about the size of my hand. “How many of these are we collecting today?”

  Blake shrugged. His broad shoulders looked like they were made for this kind of manual labor. “I dunno. I don’t have a set amount. We can get a handful of them so I can cook for you later tonight if you’d like.”

  I arched my brow. “You’re getting me dirty and you’re wining and dining me?”

  He handed me a bucket. “Sure am.”

  I chortled. “Well, if we’re both digging for these suckers, I say we make it game.”

  The intrigue that crossed his face was humorous. “What do you have in mind?”

  “Whoever digs five clams first, the loser has to pay for our next outing of the winner’s choice.”

  “Oh man.” He chuckled. “You’re so going down, blondie.”

  “Psh. You wish, Whitmore.”

  “I like your sass. The clam you already dug doesn’t count, so no cheating.”

  “No way. That’s not my thing.” I looked at his brown eyes dazzling in the morning light. There was a light and fun air around him. I wish I had my phone. I totally would have snuck a photo of him looking like he did. “On your mark, get set, GO!”

  We both took off in opposite directions. Blake went about ten feet from where we’d started, while I went hunting for the ominous little circles on the beach. I found my first one about half a minute later. Plunging the clam tube into the sand, my adrenaline helped to get it nice and deep without too much effort. Pulling it up, I got a load of sand, but there wasn’t a clam.

  “Damn it,” I mumbled.

  Thankfully not too far away was another. I did the same there and out popped my first clam. I looked over my shoulder at Blake. I’d never seen so much sand go flying. Of course he’d take the competition seriously. I was too, but holy crap, he was a man on a mission. Probably for bragging rights.

  I dug a few more times and was down to my fifth clam. When I spotted the last hole, I was a little breathless but ready to gloat that I’d won. I was already planning where I wanted to go, when I got tapped on my shoulder.

  “Huh?” I startled and spun around.

  He was standing with his bucket dangling by the handle from his pointer and middle fingers. He had an egotistical smile that told me he was more than ready to rub it in my face.

  “No freaking way. You knew where to look, so you had the advantage.” I pouted.

  He bit his lip to keep from laughing at me. “Are you really a sore loser? On my honor, I haven’t been here in years, so I had no idea where they’d be.”

  “You have honor?” I mocked.

  “Now that’s rude.” He puffed his chest out, still cheering himself on.

  “And I suppose you already know where you’d like me to take you?”

  He put his hands on his hips and looked up at the sky. “Not yet, but I’ll think about it.”

  It got quiet except for the sound of waves in the distance and seagulls that were landing curiously close to us. They wanted clams for dinner too.

  “Want to go sit down? There’s a large piece of driftwood down here that makes for a nice bench,” he said.

  “Sure.”

  It was truly beautiful out here. It wasn’t like looking at clear white waters and beaches of Hawaii, but the subtle darkness of it all was just as breathtaking. There wasn’t obvious beauty in all of this. It was in the appreciation. We sat down and immediately I spotted a piece of sea glass. I picked it up. It was vibrant green with smoothed edges. Flipping it back and forth, I eventually tossed it back onto the sand.

  “Aren’t you going to keep that?”

  I was sitting with my legs straight out in front of me and I leisurely stretched my arms. My body was already feeling the effects of the manual labor. “No. That little piece of glass went through some serious work to get where it’s at.”

  I heard him quietly chuckle. “Oh yeah?”

  I looked over at him. The heart-stopping view of him was even more incredible than the one in front of me. I ducked my head and smiled. “If you think about it, somewhere along the way, that piece of glass was broken. It’s probably been out there in the bottom of the ocean for years. It’s been tossed around, weathered a few good storms. Its rough edges have been worn down by the sand, rocks, and saltwater and eventually the ocean said it was beautiful again, so it washed it up on the shore.”

  When he didn’t say anything, I peered over at him. He was looking at me in a way that made me wish I could read his mind, even if for a second. “I think I like your story better than the one I would have come up with.”

  “Well, that’s me.” I shrugged indifferently. “I wield words.”

  He grinned. “Yeah, tell me about that. How did you become a writer?”

  I looked down at my hands and crossed my legs at my ankles. The wood we were sitting on wasn’t very comfortable, but I was comfortable being here next to him. “I have always done it. My mom said I used to write these wild stories when I was a kid. I sort of stopped when I became a teenager, but then before I graduated high school, I picked it back up again. At one point my mom sent out queries of one of my stories and that’s when I got an agent.”

  “Ah, in came Sandra.”

  I smiled. “Nope. Sandra came in when the agent I’d been working with suddenly dropped me. She saw potential in me and not long after that I got a deal with a publishing house.”

  “I see.” He nodded. “So writing has kind of been your destiny.”

  “Mhmm, that’s a good way to put it.” I wondered if I should ask him anything personal. Most of the time Blake seemed very guarded and like that aspect of himself wasn’t something he shared. Right now, I’d like to think he was comfortable enough with me that he’d give me a little morsel of his life story. “And you? How did you become this Mr. Fix-It man?”

  My terminology made him grin. “It was expected of me.”

  I’d wondered if it had been. “How so?”

  He looked out at the water and mindlessly picked at a spot on the wood. “My dad had this company since before I was born. While he had it, it was a much smaller venture. My brother was supposed to be the lead guy to take over, but when he showed no interest, it was just assumed it would be passed off to me. Guess you could say it was my destiny also.” He bumped me with his shoulder.

  The tiny fragment of contact caused butterflies to stir in my stomach. “It’s gotta be a little trying sometimes to work with your dad, I’m sure. My mom, as much as I loved her, if she had to write stories with me I’d probably go drown myself in that ocean.”

  “Something like that. He doesn’t get involved much anymore.”

  “How about your mom?”

  “What about her?” There was a clipped tone to his voice.

  I hesitated. “You haven’t really said anything about her. I was just asking.”

  “You haven’t said anything about your dad.”
>
  Touché. “My dad walked out on us when I was a kid and never came back. My mother raised me.”

  He winced. “Oh. Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound insensitive.”

  “It’s okay.” I tried to bring the conversation back to a calmer state.

  “My mother passed away when I was a teen, so it’s just been me, my dad, and my two siblings.”

  The way he said it let me know it wasn’t a good time to pry or dig deeper. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to feel the emotion coming off of him when he said his mom was gone. Clearly it was a raw wound.

  I looked at him softly. “I’m sorry, Blake. It’s hard being without a parent.”

  “Yep,” he stated coolly.

  “So let me get this straight.”

  He shifted in my direction.

  “There’s not only one or two of you walking around somewhere, but you have another sibling?”

  He barked a laugh. “Shame, right? I have a little sister. She lives in California with her husband and my niece and nephew. We’re pretty close. My brother… well, I’ll just say if you think I can be a dickhead, I’ve learned a thing or two from him. He’s not exactly the nice one out of all of us.”

  “Wow, you speak so highly of him,” I joked while I patted his forearm.

  Blake looked down at the contact as I did it. When he lifted his gaze to me, all the sadness that was previously there was gone and had been replaced by something else. He moved his arm out from under my hand and sweetly touched my cheek with his fingertips.

  “You’re beautiful, Molly.”

  My cheeks heated. “Thank you.”

  His tongue poked out and he wet his lips. My eyes watched the movement, and he saw me looking.

  “I confess it’s been a while since I’ve actually taken a woman out anywhere and had fun. You’re easy to be around. Well, until you argue with me.”

  I smiled and leaned into his hand. He cupped my cheek sweetly. “Well, you’re not so bad yourself. But you don’t always have to be all sharp edges and harsh with people. I get that sarcasm may be your thing, but not everyone is bad, Blake.”

  He leaned in closer to me. His face was only a few inches away. “If you’ve lived in my world, you might not believe in what you just said.”