"Matt. . . if you had someone else you wanted to invite the Lilly's wedding—"
"Don't worry about it." His attempt at a half-smile was just as falsely reassuring as his words. "I'll see you in the morning, okay?"
It was my turn to nod.
I let myself into the darkened house and waited at the door until Matt's car drove off. Dad was snoring in his recliner. He probably never noticed that I had been gone in the first place. I took the empty glass from his hand, covered him with a blanket, and went to bed.
And even though it now smelled more like the campfire and the ocean than it did Matthew Tanner, I slept in his sweater anyway.
~~~***~~~
The next morning Matt came bounding through the shop door five minutes late as always, and with breakfast in hand to make up for his tardiness — as always. While I savored my oatmeal, he went over our options for increasing business.
I glanced up from my breakfast to find Matt watching me with concerned blue eyes.
"Let me worry about it, okay?" he offered. "Turning the business around for you will give me something to do other than fix cars."
I cradled my cup of coffee between my palms. "Are you sure?"
The smile melted from Matt's face as the line of his mouth sobered. "I should do more around here than I do. I wanna help make things better for you. For us."
Us. My heart melted like the brown sugar topping my oatmeal. He didn't mean it the way I wanted him to, but his pledge made me feel less lonely.
"Besides," Matt added as the confident grin I knew so well blossomed again on his face. "I gotta do more around here than just look good."
I couldn't help but laugh. I didn't affirm his declaration, but I certainly wasn't going to refute it either.
"Things will change Flick, I promise."
As the week progressed I did notice a few changes between us. When I laundered Matt's sweater and tried to give it back to him, but he urged me to keep it.
"You're always cold," he teased. "Someone's got to keep you from freezing to death, even in August."
Shortly after that he caught me humming along to a rock ballad on the radio. I was changing the spark plugs on an early model SUV when Matt came ambling into the garage. He leaned against the vehicle with his arms crossed over his chest.
"Sing along if you want," he encouraged when I paused mid-hum. "I don't mind."
And so I began to sing along to the radio while he was there, just like I did when he wasn't. It was just softly at first, and then with growing confidence and volume as I practiced breathing the way Reverend Nate had suggested.
Sometimes I'd look up from my work to find Matt watching me with that blank expression on his face which I found disconcerting. I was so used to easily reading his wide range of emotions that the neutral expression was strange to me. I couldn't stand not knowing what Matt was thinking.
I worried that my voice wasn't actually very good and that Matt regretted giving me permission to sing in the first place, but he didn't ask me to stop. I didn't realize how much I liked singing until I was free to do it and release some of the pent-up energy inside of me.
Matt stuck his head into the garage the following Saturday as I was midway through putting new rear tires on a pickup truck. When was the last time he stopped by they shop on his day off?
"I brought you down some lunch," he explained as he held out a plate loaded with enough grilled cheese sandwiches for four people. There was a big bottle of ketchup tucked under his arm.
"You didn't need to do that." His thoughtfulness made me smile.
"Someone's got to make sure you actually eat. You always seem to forget to otherwise."
"It'll take me a minute to finish up," I told him before I hefted a truck tire up onto the axle. The darn tire weighed a ton and proved difficult to maneuver. Thank goodness I only had the truck jacked a foot off the ground. I grunted as I tried to finish the task.
Matt dropped the sandwiches and ketchup on top of the tool chest and rushed forward.
"And you shouldn't lift those things by yourself, they're too heavy."
"Matt, I've been changing tires by myself since I was eleven."
"I know. But still, you could hurt yourself."
I rolled my eyes. I expected him to laugh, but his scowl deepened.
"Really, its okay," I assured him. "I don't need a big, strong man around twenty-four-seven. I'm stronger than I look."
His hand shot out and wrapped around my upper arm as I moved past him to grab the other tire. Even through my coveralls I felt each individual finger band around my bicep.
"And I'm just upstairs, Flick. You can ask for help."
"When I need help, I will ask."
He stood close enough that I saw every speck of lighter blue in his sapphire eyes while he studied me.
"If you hurt yourself what would happen to this place?"
"You'd manage without me," I teased but Matt's fingers tightened on my arm and my last word came out more like a gasp.
"No, I wouldn't."
I tried to laugh it off but with Matt this close I couldn't remember how to breathe. Could he feel my pulse racing? Somewhere between my heart and my mouth, my reply got lost and I forgot what I was going to say.
Instead of letting me go, Matt touched my cheek. I was so surprised by the gentle gesture, I flinched the moment his skin grazed mine.
"You had a little smudge of grease..."
He dropped his fingers and let go of my arm.
I wiped at my cheek with the back of my hand and felt the grease smear along my skin.
"I always have grease on me somewhere," I reminded him as I ducked my head and tried to wipe it off again.
Matt chuckled. "You're making it worse."
He snatched the rag hanging from my pocket and gently clasped my chin in his hand. Then he tilted my head upwards to give the stubborn spot its full due.
"There!" he proclaimed. "All perfect and pretty."
Pretty.
I actually stopped breathing altogether.
"Come with me tomorrow." His voice sounded low and raspy.
"Tomorrow?" I parroted. My brain had definitely stopped functioning.
His dimples blossomed again.
"To Rhi and Joe's. Tomorrow is Sunday."
After witnessing the decline in Matt's mood the week before, I'd resigned myself to not getting another invite to the weekly get-togethers. Matt likely regretted asking me in the first place and I never expected him to ask me again.
"Okay," I agreed before I really thought about it.
"Great! Everyone will be glad to see you. They've all been asking if you were coming back."
So it wasn't his idea. My heart sank into the vicinity of my toes but I fought to keep the disappointment off my face.
"Now eat your sandwiches," Matt prompted. He propelled me towards the plate piled high with grilled cheese.
"That truck needs tires before two o'clock," I pointed out. "And they won't attach themselves."
Matt planted his hands on the small of my back and pushed me towards the lunch he'd made for me. "I'll finish the tire change; you eat your lunch."
I thought about arguing with him, but Matthew Tanner could be incredibly stubborn. Plus, I was just as hungry as he was adamant. Since it was Matt's day off there hadn't been any one around to nag me into eating breakfast.
I grabbed the heavy plate of sandwiches and made my way to the office.
"Did you have to make so many? You know I won't eat them all."
Matt's expression flitted between teasing and stern. "You better eat every one of those sandwiches. If you don't, I won't take you for ice cream."
"Ice cream?" I jumped up and down like a six year-old when given the same suggestion.
Matt's laughter rang off the rafters.
"It's a hot day. And when was the last time you went out for ice cream?"
"I've never been out for ice cream actually," I confessed. "I mean we have it at home from time to
time, but I've never just gone out for an ice cream cone."
Matt's joyous expression faltered. "Your dad never took you out for ice cream when you were a kid?"
I shook my head.
"That's the saddest thing I've ever heard. I used to love when Dad loaded all us kids up in the truck and took us out for ice cream."
"Well my dad isn't like your dad." I hated the way it sounded but Matt couldn't possibly imagine just how different our home lives were. "I was only four when my mom died. Dad had just opened the garage and was busy all the time. I don't think he really knew what to do with me. "
It took a lot to admit that much about my father and the last thing I needed was platitudes and pity. But I braced myself for it as I waited for Matt's response.
"You can borrow my dad any time you like. He's always up for a trip to the ice cream parlor."
He gave me another gentle push towards my office. Just the feel of his hands against my spine made my body hum. He'd touched me more in the past week than he had in all the years we'd known each other.
"You do know there is no way I'll finish all of these," I warned him again as I sat at my desk and eyed the mountain of grilled cheese sandwiches. Matt plunked the ketchup down beside me.
"I know. If you get through two I'll be impressed."
"But we can still go for ice cream?"
His answered chuckle was husky and deep. "Yes Flick, we can still go for ice cream. After I get the tires on this pickup."
From my office window I saw him crouch down beside the truck to finish the job I'd started. The sound of the impact wrench Matt used to tighten the lug nuts and secure the new tires might be an annoying sound to some, but it had long become part of my daily soundtrack.
Matt made quick work of the switch, and had the pickup truck down off the jack before I even finished the first sandwich. Then, after wiping his dirty hands on a clean rag, he joined me for lunch. He sat down just in time to watch a delivery truck from my parts supplier stop in front of the garage bay doors.
Thanks to Matt's rent cheque and security deposit I'd been able to order some needed parts and supplies.
It wasn't the usual delivery guy who jumped down from the truck though. It was Ryan, the one who sometimes came on Saturdays. The young one. The cute one. He ambled towards the doorway with a clipboard tucked under his arm. He consulted the waybill then glanced up at Matt.
"I don't think you two have ever met," I said as Ryan's brown eyes sized up Matt. His usual warm smile was no where to be found. Still, Ryan stuck his hand out before I had a chance to introduce him.
"Ryan Waverly," he said in an all-business tone. "Island Auto Parts. Good to meet you..."
"Matt Tanner."
"Matt works here with me," I explained when Matt didn't.
"I'm her right hand man," he said with a trace of his trademark charm and humor.
"And since we're so small, he's my left hand too."
Ryan's eyes wandered from the tips of my steel-toed boots to the top of my head. His lips quirked at the corners of his mouth. "Nothin' wrong with small."
Matt cleared his throat. "Do you have a delivery for us or not?"
Ryan blinked a couple of times and consulted the clipboard again. "Uh, yeah. Yeah I do. Air filters, A/C condensers, batteries, fuel pump."
"Can we have them?" Matt asked in a dry tone, enunciating each syllable like he was speaking to a child.
Ryan's eyebrows rose but I caught his sardonic smile as he moved towards the truck. He threw open the back and began pulling out boxes.
"Do you want them in the back?" he asked me as he passed with an armful of parts. I couldn't help but notice he gave the glaring Matt wide berth when he followed me to the shelving unit in the far back corner of the garage.
He handed me the clipboard. "If you could please double-check that it's all there and then sign at the bottom," he said loudly enough for Matt to hear while he stood across the room with arms crossed over his chest, guarding us.
I bit back my giggle at Matt's papa bear routine and concentrated on checking off each individual part as I counted them. Ryan stood so close I smelled his aftershave.
"Have dinner with me tonight?" he asked so only I would hear.
"I can't."
"Boyfriend?"
I shook my head.
"Husband? Children? Girlfriend?"
I shook my head again and bit my lip to keep from laughing.
"Well then, what's the problem?"
I considered Ryan's question as I signed my name to the bottom of the delivery manifest. Visions of Matt flirting with practically every female customer we ever had rose to mind. What was the problem with going on a date with the handsome delivery guy? I hadn't been on a date in years. And anyway, it wasn't like I had anything better to do on a Saturday night. I was getting tired of sitting around the garage waiting for things to happen.
Our fingers brushed as I handed back the clipboard. His brown eyes twinkled playfully and I found myself smiling up at him in return.
"There's no problem."
"Good." He didn't whisper when he said, "I'll pick you up here at seven."
Then before I had the chance to decline or accept, Ryan turned and marched back towards his truck. He tipped his hat at a scowling Matt as he passed. He hopped up into the cab, winked at me and the truck took off, roaring back down the road towards the city.
"Asshole," I thought I heard Matt utter under his breath. I couldn't be sure though, I was still a little in shock at the rapid turn of events. I looked over at Matt, who once again wore the blank expression that first appeared last Sunday.
"I'll see you tomorrow," he said before he slipped out the door without as much as another word. The tread of his feet as he climbed the stairs to his apartment sounded heavy. The door slammed and then there was silence.
So much for his offer to take me out for ice cream.
I pushed my disappointment away, cranked up the volume on the radio to eleven, picked up my impact wrench and started in on the next repair job.
~~~***~~~
Ryan's black pickup truck pulled up to the garage precisely at seven o'clock. I'd slipped home earlier to shower and change into my good pair of jeans and a bright red blouse. I had no idea what Ryan had in mind for our date, and I worried that perhaps I had dressed too casually. I jumped up into the passenger side of his truck, relieved to see he was wearing jeans too. It was so different seeing him without a cap on his head. He kept his dark hair short but it suited him. Together with a basic white t-shirt and a broad grin Ryan Waverly out of uniform was a force to be reckoned with.
I felt a rush of nervousness as my seat belt clicked. I glanced up at him through lowered lashes.
His appraisal of me was no less blatant than it had been earlier this afternoon. I felt considerably more self-conscious though not being covered in baggy overalls.
"You look fantastic." Ryan said as he threw his pickup into gear.
We had dinner at a steakhouse and lingered over dessert. We talked about our lives, our childhoods, and our jobs. The conversation remained trivial for the most part. Ryan was twenty-nine and still single with his own house in the city. He seemed impressed that I'd taken over the business after my father's accident. I almost confided in him that I found myself in over my head, but I didn't want him to think less of me.
Somehow Ryan convinced me to follow up dessert by dropping by his favorite bar. There was a band playing he really wanted to check out. The loud music made it difficult for us to chat but I enjoyed the band so much it didn't matter. When we did have the chance to talk, I found Ryan funny and smart, sweet and considerate. I was having a much better time than I expected and we ended up staying clear through to last call.
There was hardly anyone on the road during our drive back to the garage but Ryan took his time. We didn't say much, but I felt we didn't really need to and we fell into a comfortable silence. Ryan slowed as we approached the garage and rolled into the parking spot beside
my truck. He left his truck idling while he came around to open my door. He gave me his arm and I leaned on him as I jumped down from the high cab.
"I'm glad you decided to come out tonight," he said as we came around to stand beside my truck.
I smiled up at him. "I'm glad I did too. You have no idea how long it's been since the last time."
Just His Type (Part Four) Page 5