Man Glitter (Jobs From Hell)

by Marika Ray

  The music flared to life and my belt sander sang a sweet accompaniment that absorbed me completely. I had work to do, and thoughts to chase right out of my head. The work had always been a balm to my messy mind, giving me far more in return than a career. I lined up the plank back in the table saw to skim a half inch off to match the other one I’d made last night. Now if I could just get the edge of the final cross beam to look straight tonight, even with that incredible knot in the middle, I’d be a happy man.

  “What the actual hell?”

  I nearly jumped right out of my jeans as something tapped my shoulder, startling me. I jumped again when the back of my thumb hit the spinning blade. The skin split wide open a second before the searing pain registered.

  “Fuck!” I yelped, pulling my battered hand into my chest.

  I spun around and saw my new neighbor with her mouth hanging open in shock. Yep, that’s what happens when you sneak up on people working with power tools. Little miss noise ordinance should have thought of that before she trespassed.

  She continued to stand there, her green eyes blinking with guilt. I hazarded a glance down and saw blood dripping down my torso. Shit. I probably needed stitches. Grabbing the remote, I killed Breakdown, my favorite song from Tom, and darted a glance around. I should wrap it in a towel and put my hand above my head. After sixteen years, you sort of get the drill down. Cut yourself wide open, wrap, elevate, get thyself to the ER.

  “How about you make yourself useful and shut the lights off behind me, huh?” I moved toward the door, irritated, but not angry. I mean, I was playing music at midnight at a level meant to wake the dead, or at least chase the demons from my mind. Not her fault she didn’t know the hazards of these machines. Anger wasn’t an emotion I gave much attention to anymore.

  “W-wait! Where are you going?” She finally unfroze and ran after me, her weird shoes making a suction noise on my glazed concrete floors.

  I paused to throw her a wry smile. “To the ER for stitches. That’s what happens when you disturb someone working with a large saw.”

  She put her hands on her hips, not frozen at all anymore. Oh, here we go. Panties must be twisting right up her arse.

  “Sit your ass down, Lumberjack. I’m an ER doctor. I’ll go grab my bag and stitch you up.” She pushed my shoulder more firmly than I anticipated toward the stool by the workbench.

  I watched her go, those alpaca pajamas disappearing into the night, surprised to hear she was a doctor. But then again, that profession kind of explained the panty problem. She must be one of those bad bedside manner docs.

  “Here we go!” She came hustling back in with a large black bag held high like some Dr Quinn, Medicine Woman, intent on saving my life out in the wild.

  I swallowed the snort, but only because if she’d be doing the stitches, I didn’t want her pissed off at me. Before I could ask to see her credentials, she had a bunch of medical stuff laid out and reached for my hand. Her gentle touch fluttered against my naked chest, and despite my concerns about her emotional state given my only two interactions with her had been with her in a snit, I went willingly.

  She put a towel under my hand. “This is going to sting.”

  I barely flinched when she poured liquid lava over my injury, having done this song and dance many times. My only concern was making sure the blade hadn’t sliced any tendons. I needed my opposable thumb to do my job.

  “Can I get your name or do I have to start calling you Doc Anonymous?” I asked with a smile.

  She barely spared me a glance. “It’s Finnie. Finnie Dorado.”

  Well, that was unexpected. I’d assumed I have to spar with her just to get a name from her. “I’m Charlie. I’d shake hands, but we already are.”

  Not a single reaction to our introduction. “Okay, looks like a clean slice. Only a slight cut to the tendon, so I’m going to stitch that up first and then close you up. You’ll need a heavy dose of antibiotics. I’ll start you off with an injection, but also write you a prescription for a ten-day dose. You’ll need to keep it wrapped for at least five days to make sure you’re clear of infection.” She rattled off instructions as she injected my thumb in multiple places and then began to stitch with a steady hand.

  I studied her while her head was bent, the better to distract myself. Her dark hair was up in a bun again, the sharp pull on her hairline making me think of a ballerina. She was tall—maybe close to six feet with long limbs—but something about her gruff manners made me ditch the ballerina idea. There was too much aggression in the way she spoke and moved. Like she had a point to prove from the minute she woke up to the second she put her head down at night.

  “So, you’re an ER doctor in a town that doesn’t have an ER,” I said, needing to figure out if she was just visiting or if she was staying and I’d have to deal with midnight visitors on a regular basis. Might have to start wearing safety gloves.

  Her hand hung in the air for a second in between stitches before looping back and continuing to sew me together. “I have a business plan proposal for the city council about starting an urgent care here in Auburn Hill.”

  I nodded ruefully. “Well, if you keep sneaking up on me, I’ll be your best customer.”

  Her head whipped up, and she drilled her green-eyed gaze into me. “I didn’t sneak up on you. You just couldn’t hear me over those god awful machines. Which was my point.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Point taken. Maybe next time you could make your point a little less painfully, Doc?”

  She had the good manners to blush before dipping her head and continuing to stitch. “Yeah. Um, about that. I’m sorry for my part in your little accident tonight.”

  Oh, she was good. She was sorry “for her part” in my “little” accident? Maybe in her next life she’d be a lawyer, using a lot of words to say literally nothing at all.

  A really hot lawyer. I screwed my eyes shut and tried to wipe my brain. Where had that ridiculous thought come from? I mean, she was hot. If you liked alpacas and frowns and a way with needles, which I didn’t. Maybe I’d lost more blood than I thought.

  She was back to frowning, that line between her eyebrows as natural as the sawdust that covered every part of my person when I worked out here. The impish side of me that always got me in trouble, but made life worth living roared to life. She’d poked the bear, and I was about to poke back. Quid pro quo and all that nonsense. The only difference is that I poked so softly and repeatedly you didn’t feel it until it was too late.

  “About ten years ago, my buddies and I and our girlfriends all got together for a pool party one summer afternoon. Just young kids trying to scrape out a living and have some fun on the weekends. Naturally, we broke out the snacks and one thing led to another.” Her head came up, and she looked at me like a goat might look at a watch. I smothered a smile and kept going with my inane story. “We laid out all kinds of salsas, each more potent than the next. As men do, we got a little competitive and placed bets on who could handle the hottest salsa. Loser had to walk around the apartment complex pool in a thong Speedo. Now you might be asking yourself why any of us even owned a thong Speedo, but I swear it was given to me as a gag gift.”

  Finnie was watching me, her stitches halted as she studied me like one would a roach under a microscope.

  “I made it to the very end, finally tapping out when my eyes and nose leaked so much I feared I lost my senses for good. Stupid Joe won, probably because he wasn’t lactose intolerant like me and drank a glass of milk after each salsa tasting.”

  “Did you wear the Speedo?” Finnie asked, the words looking like they tasted horrible.

  I grinned, remembering the wolf whistles. “Hell yes, I did. I rocked that Speedo with a strut a runway model would envy.”

  She snorted and got back to stitching up my thumb.

  Staring at the top of her tight bun, I finished the story. “But Joe had the runs for a week after, so who’s the real winner here?”

  Finnie looked up and grinned,
flashing her straight white teeth. The front tooth had a little chip on the bottom edge, a slight imperfection that held my attention more than Hollywood-perfect looks ever could. She clapped her hand to her mouth, eyes swimming with mirth. It was a good look on her.

  First poke complete, next poke waiting on deck.

  3

  Finnie

  I couldn’t believe I was laughing inside. I’d been on a roller coaster of emotions from the moment I trudged across to Charlie’s property. First raging anger at his music in the middle of the night, then horror when I saw the damage he’d done to himself because of me, and now a begrudging humor from his insane story. Who doesn’t even flinch when they cut themselves that deeply? Who tells stories about losing salsa eating contests and assless Speedos? I’d met plenty of weirdos in the big city ER, but they didn’t usually look this good in a pair of jeans. Maybe it was just late, and that’s why I couldn’t seem to keep up with this guy.

  I tied off after the last suture and started to pack up. “Just need to wrap it and then you can head to bed.” Please Lord, let him go to bed and not play that hideous music again.

  Without intending to, I eyed his muscled chest, only catching myself when I drifted down the line of hair to the opening of his jeans. It was hard not to look, what with it all being inches from my face. The man was certifiable and unfairly gorgeous. “Probably need to get that sawdust off you before you go in though.”

  Charlie looked down at himself like he’d forgotten his state of undress or the fact that he was coated in a layer of wood particles. I wrapped his hand and taped off the thick gauze, confident it would hold through the night.

  Charlie hopped off the stool and started swiping the saw dust from his chest with his good hand. The flakes fell to the ground and reminded me of a homemade sign I saw at this little flea market not long ago.

  “They say sawdust is just man glitter,” I said out loud, wishing I could swallow the words the minute they floated out there.

  Charlie’s head popped up, and a hint of a smile danced across his face. “I believe that’s what I’ll have to call it from now on. A name that good can’t go to waste.”

  A wash of warmth flooded my limbs, and I wished it was because of a job well done on the stitches. Charlie kept batting at his back while twisting around, but missed a lot of the man glitter because he couldn’t use his right hand.

  Because of me.

  “Here, let me help you.” I moved behind him, intent on assuaging my guilt by giving him a hand. Literally. Doctors have an oath to do no harm, and here I was, responsible for nearly cutting his thumb off.

  He gave me his back and stood still. I swiped my hand across his broad back, and I nearly jumped at the warmth of his skin. I swiped again and went a little slower this time. Not to feel his bunched muscles, but to properly get all the sawdust off, of course. How did one man build so many muscles just playing with wood boards all day long? Standing so close, I saw the goosebumps form on Charlie’s arms. Could be that it was just cold out here in the middle of the night with not enough clothes on. Or could it be from my touch? I kept swiping, and the goosebumps kept coming. My face transformed with a feminine smile to know I had that power over him. Over any man, for that matter.

  It was short lived as Charlie spun around suddenly, his steady blue-eyed gaze almost even with mine. In heels, I’d be taller than him, a fact that never bothered me, but tended to bother most men who tried to date a five-foot-ten woman. His chest was just an inch away from my outstretched hands. Sawdust remained in patches, the messy remainder making my hands itch to fix it.

  I gulped. “You, uh, have some man glitter on your man parts.” I gestured down to where his jeans hung open far below his trim waist in a tantalizing vee. I mean, what were even holding those pants up at this point? Did I even want to know? The flush of my cheeks told me I very much wanted to know.

  Charlie just smirked and swiped at the sawdust in some kind of lumberjack version of a Thunder Down Under dance. My temperature soared, and I knew I needed to get out of there before I had a hot flash way too young to be blamed on menopause.

  “Okay, well, sorry again, gotta go,” I mumbled, grabbing my medical bag and setting my sights on the door.

  Charlie followed me, the heat of him padding behind me in an old pair of Vans keeping my back scorched. I reached the door and flung it open, relieved to find safety in the outdoors and the cool wind. I only turned back when I heard him grumble under his breath.

  “What’s that?” I asked, seeing him fumble with the door.

  His bandaged hand tried to hold the doorknob while his good hand turned the key in the deadbolt. The gauze meant he kept slipping off, and when he winced, I’d had enough. I stomped back.

  “Give me that.” I shooed him away and locked the door myself, handing him the key and trying to squash the guilt that clawed up my throat.

  He did a little mock bow and took the key back, his rough fingers brushing across mine much longer than necessary for a simple key exchange. I shouldn’t have felt anything through the thick blanket of guilt, and yet there was something there in the way I was aware of him. I’d never been more attuned to the fact I was a single woman and he was a half naked man.

  He winked, and I wanted to simper. “You should probably move in for a while to make sure I don’t hurt myself. Well, anymore than you already did.”

  I froze, not quite believing what I just heard. “I’m sorry, what?”

  He smirked again, the lines bracketing his mouth somehow fascinating. “You should move in. Least you could do.” He shrugged his broad shoulders.

  “Are you out of your goddamn mind?” I finally screeched, an owl somewhere in the dark trees above me agreeing with a loud hoo-hoo.

  “Shh.”

  The man actually shushed me. The man who blared Tom Petty at midnight through concert worthy speakers dared to shush my outburst.

  “You literally are insane, aren’t you?” I nodded slowly, the conclusion making all kinds of sense now. Probably the only thing about Charlie that made sense.

  He kicked at a rock with the toe of his shoe, head bowed. “Not out of my mind. Just down a finger on my dominant hand.” He raised his head. The look he gave me was all too serious, fanning the flames of my guilt. “How about just a week?”

  I shook my head vigorously. “Absolutely not. I’ll just make sure you get inside your house for the evening and I-I’ll bake you brownies as further apology.”

  His face lit up. “Pot brownies?”

  “No!” I hissed. “What part of ‘I’m a doctor’ makes you think I’d bring you pot brownies?”

  His lower lip pushed out and I could see the toddler boy he must have been, working the ladies and getting his way every single time. It was a surprisingly effective expression.

  “Just—come on.” I huffed and spun around, heading for his house. I’d make sure he got safely inside and then head to my own bed. I’d already apologized, sewed him up, and offered to bake for him. I didn’t owe him my whole damn life for a simple mistake. None of this would have even happened if he hadn’t been blasting music at midnight, so really, it was his fault.

  When I got to his house, a motion sensor flood lamp flicked on and I found the back door. I turned the knob, finding it unlocked.

  “You should probably keep this locked,” I added helpfully.

  Charlie scratched the top of his head, his long hair in even more of a disarray. “Lady, this ain’t the city. Besides, all my worldly possessions are in that workshop, not the house.”

  I shrugged and swung the door open. “Suit yourself.”

  I walked in and fumbled for the light switch. Charlie came right up behind me and reached around me, yanking the chain on a little lamp, illuminating a tiny living room. He was so close. He smelled like fresh-cut wood and man, a combination I wouldn’t have described as sexy before today. With a loud bark, a large golden beast ran from the hallway to the living room, nearly tackling Charlie and I where we
stood.

  “Hey, Chester. Welcome our new friend, Finnie.” Charlie rubbed behind the dog’s ears, his voice crooning to his pup.

  Chester sat, his tail swishing over the laminate floor, his friendly eyes trained on me. I reached a hand down to say hello and wouldn’t you know? Chester lifted his paw too. I held it gingerly and gave it a shake, delighted by his manners.

  I let go and eased back over to the door, needing out of this twilight zone as soon as possible. It was probably one in the morning by now.

  “Okay. You’re home. I’ll drop off that antibiotic prescription tomorrow.”

  Charlie ignored me, walking into the tiny kitchenette to grab a glass out of the cupboard. Chester continued to stare at me like he was daring me to leave without petting him. Charlie spun to the sink, but the glass slid right out of his bandaged hand. The shatter of glass had me running to help.

  “Stay back!” he barked. Chester whined and stayed where he was.

  “I have shoes on,” I countered.

  He eyed my footwear dubiously. “Yeah, I’m sure glass can’t get through those flimsy things with holes in them.”

  “They don’t have holes on the sole,” I argued, then pointed at his shoes. “And it’s not like those relics from ten years ago have a lot of tread on the sole left.”

  We both stood there surrounded by glass shards, eyes narrowed, arguing in the middle of the night about our shoe choices. Chester whined again. I sighed and dropped my shoulders. The guy couldn’t even get a glass of water without hurting himself. There’s no way I could go back to my place and leave him here knowing the thumb I’d injured could lead to so many other calamities.

  “Fine. You win. I’ll stay here for a few days to make sure you don’t kill yourself tying your shoes.”