Slow Ride by Erin McCarthy

didn’t really have an answer. He was fine. But he wasn’t sure he was particularly happy. “Content” was a better word for it.
    “Look, your dad was an idiot jackass for leaving like he did. You’re my sister’s son and I always thought of you and Josh as my boys, too. Now that your mama and your brother and Pete are all gone, it’s just you and me and Beth and Petey and Hunter. And we aren’t going to be around forever, and Pete’s kids have a stepfather now. We want you settled and happy and having kids of your own.”
    Trying to ignore the lump that had suddenly risen in his throat, Diesel stared hard at his uncle. “Are you sure everything’s okay with your heart? If you start gifting me your boat and your cars, I’m going to get worried.”
    Diesel knew the reality. It was just him and Johnny and Beth. Yeah, Pete’s kids were in the picture, and his widow, Tammy, did a fine job of keeping the lines of communication open with Johnny and Beth, but she was remarried. She’d probably be having more kids of her own soon with Elec Monroe, and Diesel couldn’t remember the last time he had actually seen those kids. Knowing their family was so small and so finite was scary as hell. He didn’t want to lose the two most important people in his life.
    “There’s nothing wrong with me. I told you that. We just want you to go to the goddamn night at the races at church and sit with Ellie. Is that so goddamn hard?”
    Apparently the tender moment had passed and his uncle was getting as impatient with the whole conversation as he was. “Alright, alright, I’ll go to the damn night at the races. Jesus, lay off me.” He realized they were both swearing in conjunction with talking about church, but a date with tenacious Ellie warranted some mild cursing.
    His uncle clapped him on the shoulder and grinned in triumph. “You’ll be glad you did it. Ellie is a supersweet girl, very passive.”
    “Really?” He eyed Johnny skeptically. “Are we talking about Ellie Babcock? Because I’ll have you know that she grabbed my junk at the church’s walk for hunger.”
    “She did not,” his uncle scoffed. “You must have misunderstood.”
    Yeah, right. Diesel knew what he knew. “How do you misunderstood a hand on your crotch cupping a squeeze? Or her saying we could go behind the baptismal font for a little slap and tickle?”
    “You’re making that up.”
    Diesel felt indignant. “Why the hell would I make that up? It was weird. Ellie is weird and I don’t want to sit next to her. She’ll molest me under the table.”
    “Now that’s just dumb. Why would she do that in the church hall?”
    Was his uncle not listening? “She offered to do me behind the baptismal font! Of course she’ll try to cop a feel.”
    “Well, so? That will probably be the most play you’ve gotten in months.”
    Diesel was not enjoying this conversation. His uncle might have a point, but he was not to a level of desperation that the tiger on the prowl was appealing to him. If he let her out of the cage, she’d tear him limb to limb in bed, and he bet he wouldn’t even like it.
    Fortunately he was saved from having to answer by his phone buzzing in his pocket. Pulling it out, he saw it was a text from Evan Monroe.
    Did Tuesday get home ok?
    He typed back, Yes. Hoping she’s feeling alright today .
    “Who are you texting?” Johnny asked. “Feel free to text when you’re alone with Wilma but when I’m standing here that’s rude.”
    “Sorry. It was Evan Monroe. I gave one of the bridesmaids a ride home last night and Evan was checking on her.”
    “Yeah? Did a little post-wedding horizontal shuffle, huh? No wonder you don’t want to meet Ellie.”
    Really? The horizontal shuffle? Diesel wished. “Of course not. She was completely loaded and passed out the second I got her into her apartment. Actually, she passed out in the car first. I was just being a nice guy.”
    “Well, good for you. But it would have been a better story