Chapter 3

Alexis

I'm above him, my hips are moving against his body, the light glistening on his stomach. But my eyes are staring into his—his dark sad eyes. They don't look sad now though. They're burning into my soul.

What's that look? Hunger? Desire?

My body aches so good, and I throw my head back groaning.

It's early, but I need to be back at Ray's by eight. I groan and rub the sleep out of my eyes and allow Death Cab to serenade me awake.

"Yeah," I grumble. "I'd follow him into the dark." I shake my head when I realize what I'm saying. I had a dirty dream ... about JJ. I'm breathing hard. Curious, I reach down between my legs. I gasp—I'm wet. The touch is enough to make me moan. Oh god! I squeeze my legs together. My fingers twitch and I rub a circle around my clitoris.

That's enough to send me flying. "Oh fuck!" I moan. Damn, I was close. My body betrays me while I flush and tingle everywhere. I don't have the strength to do anything but lay there for a minute. Finally, my hands stop shaking and the pins and needles sensation stops.

I stumble into the bathroom and empty my bladder. This isn't the first wet dream I've had, but it was certainly the most vivid. I reluctantly admit to myself it's also the best I've ever had. There's no point in showering, and I'm already running late. I quickly throw on clean clothes and my work boots. My coveralls are already in the truck. I hastily put together a sack lunch—I hope JJ likes turkey—and grab a juice and bagel before leaving.

The sun is just barely rising over the trees when I stop in front of my house. The early morning light bathes the old place in a light that makes me wistful. In my mind's eye, I can see this place a few years from now, when it's finished. It will be beautiful. I plan to put a deck in that wraps all the way around and continues out over the water in the back, narrowing into a dock. Maybe someday we'll have a boat.

We? Fuck! I was picturing JJ again. This time he had his arm around me. I am a silly teenager with a crush. "Get a grip, Rutherford."

The truck is in position, so I lower the flatbed. It's quiet. He must still be asleep. Pulling open the Escort's door, the overhead light comes on. No keys, shit!

I glance at my watch—6:57. Well, the sun is basically up. I head into the house. It's still very quiet, so I knock on one of the beams, "JJ? You awake yet? I need the keys to your car."

Silence answers me.

I head further back into the house slowly, feeling weird about feeling intrusive—it's my house! I take a deep breath and listen to Cat's voice in my head, "Loosen up and grow some balls, Lexi."

Fine. I walk confidently back to the bedroom and nearly trip in the open doorway.

"Holy cock!" I blurt.

"Huh?" he groans, turning further toward me.

My eyes are locked. It's just standing there in the air, and it bobs around like a teetering building in an earthquake when he moves.

Only a second or two has passed, but I blush from head to toe and swivel away, nearly tripping, "Uh, sorry Mr ... uh?" Did he tell me his last name? "Sorry, JJ."

Oh my God! It's big. Are they all that big? I've only seen them in porn, well ... I've felt a few through some guy's jeans. But they didn't feel as big as his. The one's in porn are as big as JJ's though.

"Sorry. It stays pretty warm at night here," he apologizes.

Why's he apologizing!? I'm the one who burst in here and stared at his giant throbbing...

"Uh ... no, I'm sorry. I ... uh ... I need your cock—your keys. Your car keys." GET A FUCKING GRIP, RUTHERFORD! I can feel the heat of my blush like my cheeks are on fire.

He chuckles quietly, "Really, don't worry about it."

I hear him stand up, and then there is some rustling. I know I should leave, but my feet won't move. I'm just rooted there, in the dark hallway listening to a naked male model get dressed behind me.

After a few seconds, he says, "You can turn around. I'm safe."

I take a deep breath and turn around, and my breath comes out ragged like I was kicked. He's standing there, barefoot, in a pair of dusty faded jeans and nothing else. His chest and stomach looks exactly how I dreamed it ... smooth everywhere except a curly patch of hair between his pecks and a trail of curly hairs starting just above his belly button and continuing down until it disappears into his pants. And his pants, they fit him like they were made for him. No belt needed, they just stay there on his hips effortlessly.

"You need my keys?" he asks.

"Yeah," I respond, a bit breathy. I cough, trying to cover, "I ... I need to tow it now. I thought I'd bring her in now, get your new tires on, then drive her back to you this evening. If you don't mind giving me a ride back later?"

He shakes his head, bending over to pick up a t-shirt from his bag, "No, that's fine."

I watch, riveted as he pulls on the tight red t-shirt. Then he steps forward, fishing the keys out of his pocket, "Here."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. So I'll see you this evening?"

"Yeah. Oh, I have your breakfast and lunch in the truck."

He smiles, and I can see the white of his teeth in the near-darkness. I feel myself blush at his smile, and I'm glad for the darkness.

Suddenly, the alarm goes off, flashing 7:00 and Death Cab for Cutie is once again strumming out a soft ballad on the guitar and singing to his "love of mine." I can't help but gasp and a burning clench down in my abdomen.

"You like this song?"

I nod wordlessly. He's frowning.

"My wife did too."

Did. He said 'did.' What does that mean?

Oh! Oh, no! It suddenly all clicks in my head—he's a widow. That explains the sad eyes, the faint white ring where a wedding band once sat, and 'did'. It makes sense now, and my womanly side wants to hold him and let him cry.

But I don't.

"Oh. I'm ... I'm sorry. She died?"

He nods and turns off the alarm and music.

I'm quiet, for a few seconds, and he says, "I don't want to talk about it."

I nod, "Alright ... hungry?"

He nods and sits to put on his shoes and socks.

I've got the Escort loaded, chained, and the tires blocked by the time JJ finishes his bagel and juice. He's sitting so comfortably on the porch stairs watching me. Usually when I feel a guy staring at me, it makes my skin crawl and creeps me out. But with him ... well, I'm blushing and my panties are wet.

The sultry blonde in the black cowboy hat is dancing in her underwear in my mind. A lacy black thong and matching bra, which only makes me wonder why I put on 'pretty' underwear this morning when Cat had cleaned everything yesterday. I could have grabbed clean, safe, boring underwear this morning, but I didn't—why?

I know the answer, but I'm slow to admit it to myself—because I knew I'd be seeing him today.

The flatbed locks into position and I look back at his staring eyes. His dark, inquisitive, staring eyes. Even though only a few minutes ago he was on the verge of tears over his dead wife, his eyes didn't look so sad right now. For a reason I can't put my finger on, that makes the place inside me clench oh so deliciously, hungrily. It's a new feeling for me, unsettling.

"Okay," I call to him. "I'll see you around six probably. You can drive me back into town and I'll buy you a pizza or something. Does that sound okay, Mr ... Sorry, did you tell me your last name?"

He stands, lithely, easily, and shakes his head, "James."

I giggle, "JJ James?! Are you serious?"

Jonathan

I stand up from the porch slowly. It's a good thing she's going to replace this thing, it's rough and ready to splinter. I debate quickly whether to give her a fake name, but know that won't work. My story will just have to hold up. Besides, without the beard and long hair, I really don't look much like I used to.

Shaking my head, I answer, "James."

She giggles and I feel like someone knocked the wind out of me. Oh fuck! It's like wind chimes! Just like Michelle!

What did she say? Oh, right, a joke about my name. Funny.

"John James, that's where JJ comes from," I answer, frowning to keep my face from reacting.

"Oh," she frowns slightly. "Sorry."

Fuck, now she thinks I'm mad at her ... smile moron!

"It's okay," I grin. "My little brother is Timothy Aaron. My parents wanted to call him TJ, but I kept teasing and his nickname stuck."

She frowns in confusion.

I grin, "Mahal." Of course, it sounds like 'my hall.'

Alex laughs, and the sound is so sweet. I want to make her laugh more. When she finishes, she grins, "Okay, Mr. James. I'll see you at six."

She turns to leave, but I want her to stay, "And you are? Missus?"

She climbs into the truck and turns to me out the window, "Rutherford." My heart falls—she's married. "Miss Rutherford."

I can't believe how suddenly the blackness parts.

Alexis

Ray is hung over, but at least today I was able to get some breakfast in him along with his bourbon. He's surly this morning, but it's not too bad.

The only other employee is Mack. Mac and Ray have been friends since dirt was new—at least that's how Mack tells it. Ray taught me engines, but Mack taught me everything else, suspension, frame and body work, brakes, electronics, and for an old guy, he does a good job staying on top of all the new technological mess they put in cars now. I'm pretty good on the computer, but Mack is better. And for an old guy, that still amazes me.

It also makes me realize every day that if it weren't for Mack, Ray would be out of business in six months. Two out of three cars we work on have almost as many electronic parts in their engines as they do traditional combustion-engine basics. And hybrids? Forget it. Ray doesn't know his ass from his elbow when it comes to hybrids.