A Real Goode Time Read online

  “Thanks,” he murmured. “I’ll try not to let it go to my head.”

  “Because you’ve already got a big head?” I heard myself say, and then, gobsmacked at myself for saying such a thing, I clapped a hand over my mouth. “I can’t believe I said that.”

  Rhys scraped his hat backward off his head and scratched his scalp. “So, anyway.” He was grinning, somewhere between flattered and embarrassed. “The road trip idea.”

  “If you really want to do it, because you want to and not because you’re trying to just be nice to me, then I’m down.” I leveled a look at him. “No charity, or any of that garbage.”

  He frowned. “Doing something nice for someone doesn’t have to be charity or pity. It can just be a matter of that person being…a decent human being.” He grinned at me, then. “That being said, I’ve never taken any time off. I’ve worked every spare moment of my day, seven days a week, since as long as I can remember. And there’s no telling when, if ever, I’ll have a moment between jobs like this again, so I’m gonna take it. And, in the interest of being up front, I’m choosing to spend this rare free time with you, because you’re cool, and I like you, and also you’re hot and a road trip with a hot chick is always a great idea. Not that I would know from experience, but it sounds like a great time.” He paused, cleared his throat. “And I’m gonna shut up now.”

  I bit my lip to stop myself from laughing. “So we’re going on a road trip.” I was excited. More excited than I should be. “Just promise me one thing—you won’t go any farther than you’re comfortable with.” I laughed awkwardly, realizing how that could be taken. “Farther on the road, meaning you don’t have to take me all the way to Alaska. That would be ridiculous. Just…tell me when you’re ready to turn around and I’ll go the rest of the way on my own. That’s what I meant by not going farther.” I covered my face. “This is getting awkward. I mean, you’re not awkward, I’m awkward. You’re gorgeous. Wait, what?’”

  He laughed. “We’re both awkward. It’s cool.”

  I sighed. “That last part was a quote from Frozen. But also true.”

  Marty ambled up to us, then. Snagged our empty beer glasses. “You kids want another one?”

  Rhys shook his head. “Nah, I’m good, Pops. Gotta drive.”

  “Such a responsible boy you are.” Marty tossed the glasses into a sink behind the bar. “You have an extra few minutes for me, sometime? The Fairlane is making a funny noise when I turn, and I was hoping you could look at it.”

  Rhys nodded. “Yeah, I can take a look. Is it clicking when you turn? Louder when you go faster or turn more sharply?”

  Marty nodded. “Exactly what it’s doing. See? You know without even having to look at it.”

  “Well, noises when you turn can only be a handful of things. But it’s not too serious.” He glanced at me. “You got anywhere to be right now?”

  I laughed. “You’re my ride, so no.”

  “True,” he said. “I guess I was asking if you’d be okay with me looking at his car now. I don’t want to drag you around town on my bullshit, though.”

  I smiled, shrugged and shook my head. “Helping a dear like Marty isn’t bullshit, Rhys. I’m down.”

  Marty patted me on the hand, winking at Rhys. “She’s a keeper, this one.”

  Neither Rhys nor I knew how to respond to that one, so both of us kept quiet. Rhys fished cash out of his hip pocket, peeled off two twenties, and handed them to Marty. “You wouldn’t take anything last time, so now it’s my turn. You’re taking that and no arguments.” He glanced at an old analog clock on the wall. “You’re here till close, Marty?”

  Marty crumpled the bills in his fist, nodding. “Till I kick Jimmy and O’Hearn out, and they’ll be here till I stop giving ’em beer.”

  “Well, since I’ve got Torie with me, we could drive the Fairlane to the shop, and I could fix it, or at least know what the issue is, and have it back to you before close. With that old Fairlane, though, just as a warning, you may need a whole new front-end suspension. I remember noting it being pretty well aged when I poked around last time.”

  Marty sighed, waved a hand, dug his keys out of his pocket and handed them to Rhys. “Just do what you gotta do to keep the old girl running, and we’ll figure something out about payment.”

  Rhys nodded. “All right. I’ll call you and let you know.”

  We left the little dive through the back door, waving to Marty as we passed through the kitchen. The Fairlane was parked in a tiny alley—it was white, beautifully painted, clean, no rust.

  Rhys ran a hand over the hood. “Gorgeous car. Wonder of it is, it’s original. He’s kept it in this condition since he’s owned it, and he’s owned it since it was new. He and his wife bought it together—it was their first car. He had it repainted a few years ago, and I did the engine work, but it’s just a miracle of a car. If he let me pull the engine, clean it, tighten the tranny up, and reupholster the interior? He could sell it for thirty, forty grand. He would never do it, but he could. Maybe get even more than that since it’s all original and not a refurb.”

  I knew it was dumb of me, but every time he started talking cars, I just got all giddy and my belly tightened and my thighs pressed together and I just wanted to climb on him and kiss him until he…well, did things to me I’d promised myself we wouldn’t do.

  Until Rhys, I hadn’t known I was so turned on by car talk.

  Or maybe it was just Rhys.

  I wasn’t sure, but it was a very real thing.

  “What?” He glanced at me quizzically. “You’re looking at me funny.”

  I was looking at him like I wanted to do things with him that I’d only ever done with Max, and only in the dark, and only under the inhibition-loosening effects of pot.

  “Nothing.” I shrugged.

  “Okay. I don’t believe you, but okay.” He indicated the Fairlane. “Hop in and I’ll drop you off at my Jeep.”

  The inside of the Fairlane smelled like peppermint candy and cologne and old car. The seats were that velvety cloth they used to use, and there was a small gold oval photo frame dangling by a thin chain from the rearview mirror—inside the frame was a black and white photo of a beautiful young woman. Stuck into a seam of the dashboard was another photo, this one of a much younger Marty and the same woman, holding each other in what the internet now called “the prom pose.” Rhys pulled down the visor and carefully let a stack of photos slide out into his hand—he showed them to me: Marty and his wife in their thirties, then in their forties…a photo from each decade together, until the last one, Marty and his wife together as an old couple, a few years ago.

  “They were married for sixty-three years. Jenny passed four years ago, and I think Marty is just biding his time until he’s ready to go, too.” He stuffed the photos gently back where they’d been, and started the car. It chugged over into a rumble, the kind of throaty, belly-buzzing rumble only a classic with a big block can make. “I don’t think he realized I tuned him some extra horsepower when I rebuilt his engine and replaced the exhaust. I couldn’t resist. He could beat just about anything off the line, if he wanted, but he drives as slow and careful as you could imagine.”

  “You just…casually tuned his engine.”

  Rhys laughed. “Well, I had the whole top half apart, so I was already into the damn thing. Might as well bore out the cylinders a little while I’m there, right? Upgrade the intake manifold, put a better four barrel carb on there, and bam, he’s turning out almost four hundred horses.”

  “None of that is stuff you just…do, just because. I don’t know much, but I know those are all difficult, expensive upgrades.”

  He shrugged. “I had the thing out and taken apart anyway. His exhaust system was corroded through in several places, his carburetor was shot, and the intake manifold was rusted to shit. It all had to be replaced. So yeah, I may’ve put in parts that were technically more performance-grade than he strictly needed, but I had them on hand because a guy had me orde
r them and then backed out on the job, so gave ’em to Marty for cost.”

  I patted his arm. “You sound almost defensive about doing something nice for him. I was just pointing out that you made it sound easier than it was.”

  “Well, I did sorta go negative on that job, helping him. And you can’t really run a business on acts of generosity. I know that. But what I lost in labor costs, I’ve gained back and then some, in the amount of food and beer he’s comped me since then.”

  “You shouldn’t feel defensive about being a good person.”

  He laughed. “I know. And thanks. Not everybody understands, though.”

  “Yeah, well, altruism seems to be as much of a dying art as driving a manual, huh?”

  He eyed me. “You think I’m altruistic?”

  “Sure. You go out of your way to help people, no matter what it costs you.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck as he pulled up to the curb behind his Jeep. “I gained a friend, and a friend who gives me free beer and fuckin’ great burgers. So I’ve gained as much as it cost me to comp the labor.”

  “And everything you’ve done to help me? Where’s the benefit for you?” I had my hand on the latch, ready to get out.

  He paused over his response. “I’ve done nothing. I picked you up. Spent, what, a few bucks in gas? Food I already had, some hot water? You helped me finish the Nova in half the usual time, and I got a great dinner companion.”

  I felt a heat in my belly, warmth on my cheeks, something powerful swirling between my thighs. “Should we get going?” I asked.

  He nodded, dug his keys out of his pocket. “Third gear sticks a little, gotta put some oomph into it when you shift into and out of it.”

  “Got it.” I took the keys, and hesitated, meeting his eyes.

  It felt like there was more to say, but I wasn’t sure what it was. Just…something, unsaid, something percolating under the surface.

  I knew what was unsaid for me, but it wasn’t something I was ready to tell him just yet.

  Telling a guy you’re a virgin tends to have…deleterious effects on the relationship. And I liked Rhys. Best to keep that little nugget to myself for now.

  No point, right? It wasn’t going to go there. Besides, I’d promised myself.

  Plus, once he found out, it may not go there anyway. Guys were weird like that.

  I got behind the wheel of his big old red Jeep, and started it up. I followed him back to his place and wondered if it felt a little too much like going home.

  Rhys

  Torie driving my Jeep gave me a hell of a hard-on. Now, granted, there wasn’t much about the girl that didn’t, but a sexy girl driving a lifted Jeep, yanking the shifter through the gears? Almost as hot as when she’d done the burnout. God, I think my cock had nearly exploded. And the ache hadn’t lessened in the intervening time. And the more time I spent around her, the harder—sorry, more difficult—it became to control the damn thing. And when she made jokes about how big my cock was? Gaaaah.

  How the hell was a guy supposed to keep his shit contained under such circumstances?

  Especially when I’d seen her tits bare, and she’d seen me jerking my turkey to thoughts of her.

  I growled. I’d have to find a few minutes alone at some point, or I would have a mess on my hands. Or rather, in my pants.

  Probably at an inopportune moment.

  For now, I just had to keep things under some kind of control, keep my eyes, hands, and overactive imagination to myself. Get Marty’s car fixed. Get it back to him. Get some sleep. Figure out why the in the blue fuck I’d offered to go on a road trip with a girl I wanted like hell, but with whom I knew nothing could happen, because she’d said she couldn’t.

  I wasn’t one to play games or push. If she said she couldn’t start nothin’, I wasn’t going to force it. If she wanted to change her mind, I’d be there waiting to see what we could get into.

  We got Marty’s car into my garage and up on the lift, and I pulled the tire off the suspect side—I’d heard the noise myself and knew exactly what the issue was. And, yep, as suspected, his front suspension was no good. Fortunately for Marty, I’d salvaged a ’68 Galaxie that had been rear-ended and then vandalized—the back end was toast, smashed glass, it was missing both back wheels, and the interior was rotten through, but the whole front end was basically perfect. And the Galaxie was essentially the same car, with the same suspension as the Fairlane.

  It took a couple hours to get the Galaxie where I could get at it, lift the front end, and get the suspension free, and another hour or so to put it onto Marty’s car. Torie was essential, able to get into places and do things I couldn’t or at least not easily, willing to learn, eager to help. We got it done together in less than half the time it’d have taken me alone, and we had the Fairlane back to Marty in record time.

  We got back to my place again, and by this time it was past midnight. Torie yawned prodigiously, which made me yawn.

  “God, I’m gonna sleep like the dead,” she said. “What a day.”

  “No kidding.” I was trying to figure out how I could get a shower in without asking her to sit alone in the garage.

  She eyed me. “What?”

  I arched an eyebrow. “What, what?”

  “You’re thinking about something.”

  I laughed. “How can you tell?”

  “You always scratch the back of your head when you’re thinking about what to say.”

  I blinked at her. “I…do?”

  “Yeah, you do.”

  “Oh. Never realized that.” I rolled a shoulder. “Well, I need a shower. But you’re about to fall asleep.”

  She nodded. “And you don’t want to inconvenience me.”

  “Well, I don’t want to keep you up any longer.”

  She patted my forearm, and somehow how her hand ended up just…staying there, on my forearm. “I’ll sit on the outside steps and call my sister.”

  When we got back inside, she went right for the side exit. “Just let me know when you’re done. No accidentally walking in on you, this time.”

  I choked on a laugh—mainly because I was planning on doing exactly what she’d walked in on me doing the last time.

  I couldn’t help it. I wanted what I couldn’t have, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t imagine it.

  So, once she was out on the steps and I heard her talking to her sister, I turned on the shower to let the water heat up, stripped and tossed my dirty clothes in the hamper, and then stepped into the shower. Adjusted the water. Contemplated grabbing my phone and finding visual stimulation.

  Didn’t need it. The moment I was naked and soaking in the hot water, my mind went right to Torie. She’d been in this shower less than twenty-four hours ago. Naked. Scrubbing her skin. Water sluicing down between her tight, pert breasts and plump nipples. Maybe she’d played with herself a little. I wondered if she liked to do it in bed, or in the shower?

  Maybe both.

  She’d admitted she’d thought about me…I wondered what she’d imagined, or if we’d fantasized about the same thing. Probably not.

  She probably didn’t imagine herself sliding over my body, laying on top of me, reaching for me, mouth open, ready to taste me.

  She probably didn’t imagine herself spread out on the cherry-red hood of a muscle car, taking me deep as we moved together…

  Shit.

  On second thought, she may very well be all about that second scenario. I noticed the way she shifted and hid a grin when I started spewing technical jargon.

  It turned her on, for some reason. I should be so lucky to find a chick who was a gearhead and got off on gearhead shit like talking about Holley carburetors and Edelbrock air cleaners and boring out piston cylinders for extra horsepower.

  The image of Torie splayed out on her back on the hood of a red muscle car wouldn’t go away. There’d be classic rock playing the background, sun shining through the open bay door. I’d be all greasy, and she’d be all white and clean an
d perfect. She’d strip for me, sultry and slow. Lie back on the hood and reach for me. I’d slide up the sculpted sheet metal, and my hands would leave dark smears on her pale fresh skin. Her legs would wrap around me, her lips would touch mine and whisper to me, maybe my name, or maybe a plea to take her right then, right now…just like this.

  My fist was a blur on my cock, and I was aching, pulsating with pent-up need, picturing Torie beneath me and her skin against mine, writhing with me, begging me for more…

  I spurted all over the shower, and the water rinsed it away, and I finished the rest of my shower hoping I’d be able to get through this road trip with my sanity and my self-administered standards of morality intact.

  I knew she was attracted to me.

  I knew she knew I was attracted to her.

  I wanted her more with every passing day, and it would take only the smallest spark for the churning fuel of my desire for her to combust into something explosive. A touch, a look, a hint that she’d changed her mind. That she wanted me, for whatever I could give her, for however long we had together.

  It’d be temporary. It could only be temporary. Maybe that was why she was resistant to starting anything—she wasn’t a fling type of chick. Shit, I knew she deserved more.

  I just couldn’t give her that.

  I had goals. Plans.

  And they didn’t involve getting tied down with a woman, even one as amazing as Torie.

  No, it was best to keep my fantasies of Torie just that—fantasies. For her sake and my own.

  Because something told me if I got my hands on her, I’d have a hell of a hard time letting go.

  I got dressed in clean gym shorts and a cut-off Pennzoil T-shirt. Poked my head out the side door and glanced at Torie, who was still on the phone. She smiled and nodded at me, held up a finger.

  “Yeah, no, he’s here now.” She pulled the phone away from her ear, glanced at me. “Lexie wants to talk to you. You don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”