perched on top of a plateau surrounded by steep
hills that just begged to be climbed.
Chapter 13
We
were behind some guy in a Toyota going up the side of Cemetery Hill when, for some
stupid reason, the dumbass decided to stop right in front of us and Seth had to
jam on the brakes to keep from rear-ending him.
"Who is that idiot?" I asked.
"You
mean what we call him or his real name?" Seth answered. Before I could
respond, he continued, "His real name is Andy Miller. But everyone calls
him Tool. Among other things. For obvious reasons."
I
snickered, "Apparently he doesn't have a clue what he's doing."
"That
would be Andy. Clueless," Seth muttered and rolled down the window. He
stuck his head out to yell at Andy, who had just hopped out to walk around
behind his truck. "What the hell are you doing Tool? Leave it to you to
get stuck in two inches of mud."
Four-wheelin'
was especially fun if someone got stuck or when something broke. It wasn't
brain surgery: start at the bottom and don't let off the gas until you hit the
plateau at the top. Stopping halfway up was never a good idea, because even
with what little mud there was, it was still greasy beneath the tires and
getting started again would be tricky.
Seth muttered a few choice words about
Andy's lack of intelligence and tried to back up his truck so we could get
around Tool. The wheels spun as he gunned the engine and the next thing I knew,
smoke had started to pour out from under the hood. "Dammit!" Seth
scowled and pounded his hand hard against the steering wheel. He peered
sideways at me apologetically. "Sorry. This might take awhile."
"No problem. I'll go wait with the
other girls," I told him. I cautiously made my way through the mud to where
several others were standing around. We joked about Tool's total lack of brain
matter and waited while the guys tried to figure out what the problem was with
Seth's truck and whether or not he'd be able to drive it back to town.
While the guys debated the best plan of
action, we started to smell gas. A steady stream had begun to pour out the back
end of Seth's pickup. I pointed it out to him and they gave up the idea of trying
to get the truck running that night and decided to tow it back to the shop
instead.
When we were all ready to head back to
town, Seth walked over to where I'd been waiting with the others and asked,
"So are you going to ride back in the truck with me?"
"Of course," I said and
smiled.
His blue eyes sparkled and when he
reached out to swipe his thumb across my cheek he had to have been deaf not to
hear my heart as it hammered against my ribs. "You had a little mud there on
your face," he said.
I shrugged and said, "A little mud
never hurt anyone, it's all good."
On the way back to town he apologized
for the way the night had turned out. I smiled at him and let him know that
although the apology wasn't necessary, it was appreciated.
When he pulled me closer to his side in
a one-armed hug and pressed his lips to mine I thought Holy mother of God .
The kiss completely took my breath away and erased every coherent thought in my
head. As though he somehow managed to read my mind, he grinned down at me while
I was momentarily dumbfounded and completely lost in his eyes.
"I wish I could take credit for the
way the night turned out," he said, leaning in to kiss me again. "The
good part, I mean. Like being with you."
We got back to the garage and he told
the guys not to worry about fixing the truck until the next day. He took my
hand and pulled me in the direction of an old white Camaro parked alongside the
garage. After he opened the passenger door to let me in, I stared at his ass
all the way around the front of the car. I swore he knew I was checking him out
and walked slower on purpose to give me an eyeful. The inside of the car reeked
of mildew and mothballs, but I didn't mind. Hell I wouldn't have
hills that just begged to be climbed.
Chapter 13
We
were behind some guy in a Toyota going up the side of Cemetery Hill when, for some
stupid reason, the dumbass decided to stop right in front of us and Seth had to
jam on the brakes to keep from rear-ending him.
"Who is that idiot?" I asked.
"You
mean what we call him or his real name?" Seth answered. Before I could
respond, he continued, "His real name is Andy Miller. But everyone calls
him Tool. Among other things. For obvious reasons."
I
snickered, "Apparently he doesn't have a clue what he's doing."
"That
would be Andy. Clueless," Seth muttered and rolled down the window. He
stuck his head out to yell at Andy, who had just hopped out to walk around
behind his truck. "What the hell are you doing Tool? Leave it to you to
get stuck in two inches of mud."
Four-wheelin'
was especially fun if someone got stuck or when something broke. It wasn't
brain surgery: start at the bottom and don't let off the gas until you hit the
plateau at the top. Stopping halfway up was never a good idea, because even
with what little mud there was, it was still greasy beneath the tires and
getting started again would be tricky.
Seth muttered a few choice words about
Andy's lack of intelligence and tried to back up his truck so we could get
around Tool. The wheels spun as he gunned the engine and the next thing I knew,
smoke had started to pour out from under the hood. "Dammit!" Seth
scowled and pounded his hand hard against the steering wheel. He peered
sideways at me apologetically. "Sorry. This might take awhile."
"No problem. I'll go wait with the
other girls," I told him. I cautiously made my way through the mud to where
several others were standing around. We joked about Tool's total lack of brain
matter and waited while the guys tried to figure out what the problem was with
Seth's truck and whether or not he'd be able to drive it back to town.
While the guys debated the best plan of
action, we started to smell gas. A steady stream had begun to pour out the back
end of Seth's pickup. I pointed it out to him and they gave up the idea of trying
to get the truck running that night and decided to tow it back to the shop
instead.
When we were all ready to head back to
town, Seth walked over to where I'd been waiting with the others and asked,
"So are you going to ride back in the truck with me?"
"Of course," I said and
smiled.
His blue eyes sparkled and when he
reached out to swipe his thumb across my cheek he had to have been deaf not to
hear my heart as it hammered against my ribs. "You had a little mud there on
your face," he said.
I shrugged and said, "A little mud
never hurt anyone, it's all good."
On the way back to town he apologized
for the way the night had turned out. I smiled at him and let him know that
although the apology wasn't necessary, it was appreciated.
When he pulled me closer to his side in
a one-armed hug and pressed his lips to mine I thought Holy mother of God .
The kiss completely took my breath away and erased every coherent thought in my
head. As though he somehow managed to read my mind, he grinned down at me while
I was momentarily dumbfounded and completely lost in his eyes.
"I wish I could take credit for the
way the night turned out," he said, leaning in to kiss me again. "The
good part, I mean. Like being with you."
We got back to the garage and he told
the guys not to worry about fixing the truck until the next day. He took my
hand and pulled me in the direction of an old white Camaro parked alongside the
garage. After he opened the passenger door to let me in, I stared at his ass
all the way around the front of the car. I swore he knew I was checking him out
and walked slower on purpose to give me an eyeful. The inside of the car reeked
of mildew and mothballs, but I didn't mind. Hell I wouldn't have
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