Without You: A Friends-to-Lovers Small Town Romance

by Jennifer Van Wyk

  “Really?” he asks, looking at my phone. “Shit. Yeah, let’s get out of here.”

  We turn off the lights and I grab a few things from my apartment, my purse, keys, laptop, and we high tail it down to his house. The door is barely shut behind us when a torrential rain hits, pelting the house.

  “Holy hell! That came out of nowhere, yeah?”

  We turn on a few lights and he double checks to make sure the windows are all shut and locked. “Yeah, it really did. I didn’t even know rain was in the forecast for today.”

  “Me either.”

  Ushering me away from the window that I’m standing next to, he says, “Let’s take a step back from the glass, though, shall we?”

  I hesitate only for a second because I want to see what’s happening, but then a loud crack of lightning hits. “Ahh!” I scream and jump back. He chuckles and I roll my eyes.

  “Kitchen’s coming along,” I comment, looking around a little.

  “It is. I’m ready for it to be complete, you know, but at least it’s functioning while Chad works his magic. It should be finished in a couple weeks.”

  “Wow. That’s exciting. No more metal cupboards.” I grin.

  “Nope. Thank goodness. It looked like an episode of The Brady Bunch in here, right?”

  I snort out a laugh. “It did. Though, I think even they had a little more coordination than this kitchen did.”

  “Probably true.”

  We move to the living room where there aren’t as many windows and he turns on the TV to a local station so we can watch the weather. It isn’t a tornado warning yet, so we cuddle down on the couch and get comfortable.

  We watch for a few minutes, before he says, “Shoulda asked, you want something to drink?”

  I move to get up. “I can get it. Water okay?”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  He kisses me on the cheek and moves to get up as well. “Thank you. Yeah, that’s fine. I’m going to check on Sabrina while you do that.”

  “Okay.”

  I grab a couple glasses off the counter since the cupboards are not installed yet, fill them with ice and water, then return to the living room to see Sabrina curled up on Brody’s chest.

  “Where was she?” I hand him a glass and he takes a sip before setting it on the end table next to him.

  “Thanks. She was under my bed.” He sticks out his lower lip in a pout. “She’s still shaking.”

  “Aww, poor thing.” I scratch behind her ear and she turns into my hand.

  “Yeah.”

  The storm rages outside and the lights flicker on and off. With a loud crack of thunder, I jump. Sabrina does, too, but she jumps right out of Brody’s arms and runs back to her hiding place.

  We watch as the weather-woman shows the different areas that need to be taking shelter and I’m relieved to see ours isn’t one of them. Lightning flashes, lighting up the living room but creating a cozy atmosphere. I love spending time with Brody. We haven’t done much outside of the house yet, but I like the quietness. It’s nice that we can spend time together and not have it be a big presentation.

  “This is going to make work even busier,” I whine.

  “Your dad won’t have a peaceful end before he retires, huh?”

  “Probably not. Unless we don’t get hit, which it looks like we won’t. Most of his customers are here in Benton but we have a few from neighboring towns.”

  “Doesn’t look like they’ll get hit hard, either,” Brody remarks, his eyes glued to the TV, his arm around my shoulders, pinning me to his body.

  “What time is it?” I ask, yawning and curling into him. I wrap an arm around his waist and he kisses the top of my head, stretching his legs out and resting his feet on the coffee table.

  “Eleven. Why can’t storms like this ever hit in the middle of the day so we know what’s going on? I hate not being able to see anything.”

  “Me, too.”

  My eyes feel heavy, despite the unsettling feeling that lingers beneath the surface. But I’m tired and I know that I need sleep or tomorrow is going to be even worse yet. I’m already dragging most days, not getting enough sleep tonight will only make it worse.

  “By the looks of the radar, it’s going to be raining for a while, but the storm seems to have settled a bit.”

  “That’s good. I can handle the rain and thunderstorms, it’s the tornadoes that I don’t like.”

  “Yup.”

  “I’m exhausted,” I admit, grudgingly, sitting up before I fall asleep on his chest. But that does have a lot of appeal. “I think I need to go to bed if we aren’t in any danger.”

  Brody stands up and peeks out the window, even though it’s pitch black and there’s nothing he can see. “Yeah, me, too.”

  I stand up and move toward the door and he stops me, his hand lightly wrapped around my forearm. “Where are you going?”

  “Um, to bed?”

  “First of all, were you even going to say good bye? Second, no. You’re sleeping here tonight. What if the storm picks back up? I don’t want you in the apartment. You can sleep in the guest bed if you feel more comfortable but just so you know, my vote is for my bed because I want you there again.”

  Well, how could I say no to that?

  Chapter Twelve

  Brody

  Waking up with Katie in my arms is something I could get used to. Especially considering that she’s only wearing one of my t-shirts that goes down to her mid-thigh. I like her in my clothes. I like her in my bed. I like her in the passenger seat of my truck or walking around my shop.

  I just like being around her in any way she’ll let me.

  Right now, though, waking up with her legs and arms wrapped around me, and her scent and hair all around me, I have a lot of other ideas of how I’d like to spend my time with her. Mainly sans clothes and in this bed all day.

  Unfortunately, that’s not going to happen.

  We both have days that we need to get to and that sucks.

  I kiss her on top of the head, something that I’ve gotten in the habit of doing often and have no plans of stopping, and I feel her wiggle against me.

  “Morning,” I murmur.

  “Morning,” comes her soft, sweet reply.

  “Realize this is part of that whole doing things out of order thing, but can I take you out on a proper date this weekend?”

  She gives me a squeeze but keeps her head buried in my chest. “Yeah.”

  “Good.”

  I rub up and down her back a couple times then groan when the alarm on my phone goes off again after I’d already hit snooze once. Normally I’m up before it has the chance to go off, but I slept so good last night, I wasn’t surprised that it was what woke me up this morning.

  Between having Katie in my bed and the storms that had calmed down to just rain last night, it was the best night of sleep I’d gotten in weeks.

  “Like you here,” I tell her.

  “I like being here.”

  “Let’s make a habit of this.”

  “Okay,” she whispers.

  I jostle her so she gets the idea that I want to see her eyes and she answers by lifting her head and looking down at me.

  “There she is. I wanted to see your face.”

  She wrinkles her nose. “I guarantee it’s not as pleasant as you were hoping for. Do I have makeup all over?”

  I lift a hand and thread it through her hair, bringing her lips to mine, morning breath be damned. She purses her lips tightly and I raise my eyebrows. I give her a closed-mouth kiss then slide my lips to her ear. “I’ll let it pass this time, baby, but I don’t like you withholding those lips from me.”

  She shutters out a breath and I grin, releasing her. “Gotta hit the bathroom then it’s all yours. You know where everything is since you used it last night. I’ll start coffee. Breakfast burritos okay this morning?”

  She nods, her lips still clamped tight.

  Chuckling, I sta
nd up and get started with the day.

  Oh, yeah.

  I could get used to waking up with her.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Katie

  “No! No no no no no! Arrghhh! This can’t be happening. Not right now,” I cry to myself. I wasn’t paying attention and veered onto the gravel on the side of the road and not ten seconds later I knew something was wrong.

  Luckily, I was about to pass a small roadside café so I pulled in, parked my car, and got out to inspect the damage.

  The tire is flat as a pancake.

  I learned how to change a flat tire when I was eighteen, but that was knowledge I didn’t fully retain. I really don’t think I should trust myself to fix this, but I hate to bother Brody with it, either.

  If I don’t call him, he’s going to be upset with me. That much is obvious after last night’s heated… discussion.

  I pick up my phone, dial his number, and wait for it to ring. I’m standing next to the flat tire and scowl at it. What horrible luck! In the split second that I was off the road I must have run over a nail or something.

  The call gets dropped after one ring.

  I try again.

  Same thing.

  I look at my phone and realize I have no bars. No service. Then I look around and curse myself for taking a side road this morning. I was in a good mood and didn’t feel like dealing with the interstate traffic. Plus, I’d always wanted to take the scenic route. A lot of good that did me. For three months, I drove to school and used the same route. Today I told one of the professors I would meet her for a coffee because we had developed a friendship. For some reason, I thought it’d be a great idea to shake things up and go a different way. With the leaves changing color, I just knew it would be fun to take the winding road through the mountains instead. It was pretty and until I got to the base of the mountain, I was thinking I had made a brilliant decision. I was wrong. All the pretty crimson and gold trees are long forgotten, replaced with misery of my own doing.

  Because it’s what people do, I lift my phone in the air, praying that the extra elevation will somehow trigger it to pull a signal. It doesn’t work. Shocker.

  I decide to try a text instead.

  It doesn’t go through.

  So I stomp into the café, irritated that I’m going to be late meeting her and can’t even get enough service to call her and let her know that I’m not just flaking on my promise to get together. I order myself a cup of coffee to go then ask to use the restroom. After taking care of business, I walk back outside, chug down some of my ambition, and pop the trunk.

  “Oh, shit!” I shout. “Arrggghh! Are you kidding me?” I whimper.

  My spare tire isn’t here. What the hell?

  Because I only keep the emergency kit that my dad gave me (lot of good that’s providing since it’s a set of jumper cables, a box of granola bars, and two bottles of water) and an extra blanket in my trunk, it’s not as if it can be hiding anywhere.

  It was a used car when I purchased it but I swear I checked to see if there was a spare tire when I bought it. Obviously, that wasn’t the case. Either that, or there’s some sort of spare tire thief roaming around the state.

  A vehicle pulls up and parks a few spaces down from me but I’m too deep into my pity party to care who it is. I slam my trunk shut with as much force as I dare and climb back into the driver’s seat, grip the steering wheel, and rest my forehead on it.

  Brody is going to kill me. This is what he does for a living. What kind of… girlfriend? Am I his girlfriend? I shake off the thought because I don’t have time to worry about labels right now. I know we’re exclusive and that’s all that matters. Anyway, what kind of… person he’s seeing am I that I can’t even do the most basic of car fixes? A crappy one, that’s what.

  I will not cry.

  I will not cry.

  I will not cry.

  Damn it.

  I’m crying.

  Not ugly sobs. I almost think that would be better because these hot tears just sliding down my cheeks are almost worse. I detest crying because of a situation I’m in. And this one could have been one hundred percent prevented had I checked to make sure I have a spare but also taken the time to practice knowing how to change a flat tire.

  A knock on my window sounds and I turn my head so I can see who’s standing there.

  An olive green t-shirt covered torso and a jeans waistband.

  It appears to be a man.

  Quite the inspector I am.

  I turn my key over so my battery starts up, allowing me to roll down my window a crack. I turn it back off because a dead battery on top of a flat tire would certainly make this day suck even worse. Through the three inch crack I opened, I say, “Yes?”

  “Problem, miss?”

  “Nope. Perfectly fine, thank you!” I shout, pushing the button for the window to roll back up and leave me in the silence of my miserable life. Okay. It’s not miserable but the past ten minutes have sincerely sucked big time.

  Another knock.

  I roll my eyes as I push the button. Again. Seriously, how annoying!

  “Do you have a problem?” I ask. “Something I can help you with?”

  “Well, you see,” the torso bends down and I see a glimpse of his face, though it’s shadowed by the ball cap he’s wearing, “I was really in the mood to change a flat tire today, brush up on those basic life skills. Happen to know anyone around needing that type of work done?”

  “It just so happens, Mr., that I do…” I see his smug grin and add, “not. I do not know anyone who needs help. I’ll let you know if I find anyone, though!”

  Up goes my window again.

  Has this guy ever heard of stranger danger? I mean, honestly! This is the twenty-first century! A person does not just simply accept help from a random stranger, no matter how nice they’re trying to be. That’s like the actual definition of how most serial killer shows begin. It’s never the guy who threatens people. It’s the good looking, secretly sinister man — or woman.

  Another knock and I growl, this time grabbing my small can of mace out of my purse before getting out of my car in such a hurry that it makes him stagger backward. Lifting the can in his direction, I plant my feet wide. “Listen, man. Take a hint, okay? I don’t know you. I’m not about to accept your help only to be tied up, raped, thrown in your trunk, and then buried in the desert.”

  It’s like he’s not even afraid of the mace I could blind him with! He just chuckles then… “Desert?” he asks, his voice like melted chocolate. I narrow my eyes. Is he seriously mocking me right now?

  “Yes, desert. Now. If you don’t mind…”

  “Actually, I do mind. I’m sorry if I offended you or scared you. I have a spare that I think will fit your car and I’m perfectly capable of helping you.” He looks around and points to the café behind us. “As you can see, there are plenty of people around and I promise you I’m not a serial killer.”

  “That’s what all serial killers say.”

  “True, true. But I mean it.” He lifts his fingers in the air with a grin that’s actually quite attractive. “Scout’s honor.”

  “Ugh! Fine. Fine! You can help me, but I’m watching you,” I add on with a glare.

  “Wow. Such a generous offer.”

  “I’m Katie, by the way,” I say, extending my hand.

  He looks at it then up at me. “Nice to meet you, Katie.”

  When he doesn’t tell me his name, I give him an odd look. “And your name?”

  “Right. Elijah.”

  “Nice to meet you, Elijah. And honestly, thank you for offering to help me. I was rude earlier and that wasn’t called for. I’m sorry.”

  He shrugs. “It’s fine. Good to be alert and weary of people. I don’t blame you.”

  “Still.”

  “Forgotten. Should we get started?”

  “Oh. Yeah. Thank you, again.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  I help Elijah do his thing after h
e gets all the things from the trunk of his car. I help get the tire over to my car and the flat one I lift and place in the trunk of my car. I might not have had the tools to do the work, but that certainly doesn’t mean I can’t be helpful.

  It doesn’t take Elijah long to get the spare tire on but now I realize I have a problem because I have his spare tire on my car and I will have to figure out a way to get it back to him. I don’t even know where he lives. The luxury mid-size SUV he’s driving that’s similar to mine only in its size because mine is a base model and not luxury at all, does have Tennessee license plates but that doesn’t mean anything.

  He stands up and brushes the dust off his jeans and hands and returns all his tire fixing tools — that’s the technical term, I’m sure of it — to his car and turns to face me.

  “What now? I mean, I need to get your spare tire back to you somehow and I’d really like to pay you for your time and help. I don’t have much cash on me, but I can see if there’s an ATM in the café.”

  He chuckles again like I’m somehow amusing him. “You don’t need to pay me back.”

  “How do I get the tire back to you?”

  “You live in Benton, right? Or around there?”

  I take a step back. Now I’m a little creeped out. I wasn’t earlier but he just officially crossed a line.

  “No?” I hate that it comes out as a question rather than an answer.

  He takes off his ball cap and runs his fingers through his hair then puts it back on, adjusting the bill so it’s low on his face. That doesn’t necessarily help the creep factor he’s suddenly giving off. When he notices I take another step away and bring my mace out of the pocket of my hoodie, he holds his hands up and winces. “Shit. Sorry. Now I freaked you out. I just gave you reason to question my whole ‘I’m not a serial killer’ promise. Here’s the deal. I was in Benton last night and saw you walking on the sidewalk.”

  My eyes widen and he winces again. “I’m making it worse. I promise I didn’t follow you. I was leaving town and heading back home and thought I’d stop in for a cup of coffee. Happened to see you. Just happened to. I promise.”