First Love Second Chance

by Kira Blakely

“Shouldn’t I?” I wondered in a small wisp of a voice.

  “Fuck no, woman. Let me come with you.”

  “The alert was already sent to the police station,” I explained. “Everything should be fine. I’m just going to go check it out.”

  Andrew stared me down thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if anything happened to you.”

  It took me a second to recall that his hand was still holding onto me, and I placed my itty bitty hand onto his, pushing it away. I didn’t know Andrew—Mr. Bogart. Our work relationship was especially complicated. I couldn’t afford any possible repercussions from him knowing exactly where I lived.

  “No,” I answered, maybe a little too firmly. “I’m fine. Thank you, Mr. Bogart. You can see yourself out, I’m sure.” I scooted forcefully around him, and our bodies brushed for a split second, then parted and I was free. I could breathe again.

  I hesitated at the front door and looked back at him, unable to quell the urge to comfort Andrew. I saw the concern in his eyes. “I’m just going to see if the front window is really open.”

  * * *

  I slid my heels off and crowded into my car, turning the engine over. My heart pounded and I was thankful for the opportunity to get out of that pressure cooker and regroup. Don’t think about all that right now, I commanded myself. Right now, all you need to worry about is getting home and figuring out why that alarm is going off. My Volvo sweltered with the trapped heat of late June sunshine, and I unbuttoned and shrugged off my blouse while simultaneously rolling down the windows. I wore a thin white slip underneath and the kiss of the breeze on my skin relieved the humidity immediately.

  Clutching the wheel and putting the car in gear, I rolled down the street, all the possibilities circling in my head.

  Before I could clear the block, my car froze up and the steering wheel seemed to weigh a thousand pounds. I wrenched with both hands but I could barely turn it anymore. “Shit!” I cried, frantically and ineffectually twisting at the wheel. “No, come on! Not tonight!”

  I drifted to the side of the road and bleakly put the car into park. Shit. I was stranded in the goddamn downtown of Pelham, several minutes away from my home, which was currently being robbed. Great.

  Headlights filled my rearview mirror, and a massive Dodge truck parked behind me.

  A broad silhouette came swaggering through the lights. I knew who it was by the proud shimmy of those hips alone.

  “This is a sign, you know,” he called through my open driver’s side window. I wanted to scramble back into my blouse but I knew that would look ridiculously prudish to Andrew.

  “I don’t believe in signs,” I said instead.

  “Clearly.” He gestured to the No Parking signs running up and down this side of the street and grinned. “Want me to take a look?”

  “I bet you’d love that,” I blurted.

  “I’m not having any wet dreams about Volvo engines, if that’s what you’re getting at.” Andrew braced his forearms on my car door and peered in at me.

  “You won’t be having any wet dreams about me, either,” I countered with a sniff. I knew what he really wanted. I knew what he was really inviting me to do when he asked to work on my car. He was hoping for a blowjob this time. A strip tease. It was my fault. I’d set the precedent. Now I had to reset it.

  But Andrew scoffed at me and took his forearms off the car door. He pulled himself to a full stand. “You don’t know me, woman. What happened between us was—a one-time thing. You were right: it was a huge mistake. For this, I’ll bill you. Okay?”

  My heart inexplicably sank, even though I guess it was exactly what I wanted.

  “You know what?” I crossed my arms over my breasts and shook my head, breaking eye contact with him. “That’s all right. This happens all the time. This is a thoroughly used car. I’ll figure it out on my own.”

  “But I thought there was a home invasion in progress? Aren’t you in a hurry? I’m a mechanic,” he said, bracing one hand on my door and another on my door handle. “And I’m right here.”

  I closed my eyes and nodded. His logic was airtight. “I can’t seem to turn my steering wheel anymore. It’s very heavy,” I explained.

  “Let me get in there and take a look.” Andrew took the liberty of swinging open my driver’s side door. I moved to get out, but he stooped beneath the steering wheel at the same time. I flattened my back against the driver’s seat and spread my legs unintentionally, just trying to keep him from touching my skin. He glanced up at me. “Does this thing ever whistle at you when you’re on it?”

  “Oh, ha, ha,” I snarked at him from above my widespread legs. “Be serious.”

  “I am being serious! I think your steering pump is loose. I might be able to do some work on this tonight if you wouldn’t mind parking at my place.”

  “At your place?” I repeated incredulously. “Is that where mechanics do business now?”

  Andrew let out an exasperated breath and placed one palm down on the inside of my thigh. I bristled. “Michelle,” he said, sounding unexpectedly calm. “Look at me. Look at me.” I glared down at him. “Let’s just forget that we ever had sex, okay? I’ll forget about it. I’ll never mention it again. It will never happen again. Okay? Are we okay now?”

  My relief mixed with a toxic sort of bitterness, and I hesitated before a final nod. “I guess,” I allowed. “Okay.”

  “Before I had my own garage, I worked from home,” Andrew explained. I stewed in my own mortification at how positive I’d been that this man would do anything to get me spread on a desk again. He did seem perfectly nice. In fact, what little interest he had in me had probably been dashed away by my shrill certainty that he wanted to plant more seeds in my uterus. “It’s my purely professional opinion that you should allow me to tow this vehicle to my garage for some more work—I mean, just work, not more work, because we just met and have never met before—because I’ve got a tow hook on my truck right now, and I’m just a couple miles that-a-way. Then I can take you to check out your house.” Andrew crawled from the floorboard of my front seat and pulled himself erect again, stretching out a hand to pull me from the vehicle next. “And I’ll completely forget the way,” he promised.

  Chapter Three

  Andrew

  The tantalizing aroma floating from between Michelle’s legs swam around my head the whole damn time I was talking to her. Focus. Focus. How could a human woman smell so fresh and ready? I literally employed breathing exercises to talk my prick into a state of compliance. Crashing waves. Crashing waves and blue sky. Crashing waves and blue sky and granny boobs. Chill out. Michelle’s trigger was so sensitive right now—and not in the good way—that she would probably get my case reassigned and move out of town if she saw me with an erection right now.

  We piled into my truck and lurched back onto the street.

  “I’m guessing you don’t live in a safe neighborhood,” I volunteered.

  “I thought that I did,” Michelle replied. “The rent is expensive enough for it to be very safe. I live right next to a cop.”

  “Do you make good money, doing what you do?” I asked, just to make polite conversation. “Defending the riff raff of the world?”

  “You’re not riff raff,” Michelle asserted, avoiding my first question. “I’ve been giving you a hard time, but you were right when you called yourself a gentleman. I really can’t disagree, even if I might want to.”

  I nodded. “So, the money sucks.”

  Michelle actually laughed, a bright, tinkling sound I had never heard before. I liked it. I wanted to hear it more often. “Yes,” she confessed. “The money blows. Take a right up at the gate for Withers Community. That’s me.”

  “Then this will be even easier,” I told her. “I live in Withers Community, too.”

  Michelle’s mouth fell open, but she said nothing.

  “Yep,” I went on, tempering the awkwardness with little success. “I’m in the gray rancher. It’s on the lake.
”

  “I’m at the bottom of the cul-de-sac on Mayhew,” Michelle replied. All the brightness and honey in her tone was gone now.

  As we approached the cul-de-sac at the end of Mayhew, I reminded Michelle, “I meant what I said about forgetting... what happened in January.” I slid my hand through the air, pantomiming an erasure. “It never happened. Okay, Michelle?”

  I slanted my eyes over at her, and she offered an uncertain smile as she buttoned the blouse she’d unfastened in the June heat. “Can’t be letting all the cops and robbers get a look at my goodies,” she informed me. We parked on the side of the street and she went on in a tiny voice, “There’s someone on the porch.”

  My eyes followed hers to the masculine silhouette moving over the porch. I slid out of the driver’s seat and put my finger to my lips. Michelle widened her eyes and shook her head frantically—Don’t do it—but I let the door hang open and crept across the yard. My boots made a light click as I crossed the porch and the shadow twisted, but it all happened too quickly for him and I lunged. The momentum carried us both over the bannister and into the bushes, rolling out across the dark yard.

  I got in one good punch before my eyes adjusted well enough to identify the stranger as Chet-motherfucking-Browntooth.

  I live right next to a cop, Michelle’s voice rang in my mind.

  Great. Perfect.

  My grip popped off of Chet’s collar, and I sprang off of him as he bellowed, “Hands off, Ace!”

  I held up my hands, just in case he was armed. Michelle came trundling out of the truck and onto the grass, still barefoot in stockings. She held the crowbar in the back of my truck high over her head.

  Damn. Smart girl. My whole plan had been fists.

  “What’s going on here?” Michelle asked, her light, musical voice suddenly becoming hard and firm. It was sweet. She was like a little Pitbull puppy.

  Chet climbed off his ass and wiped at his bloody nose.

  “I saw your front door hanging open, and I thought you might need some help,” Chet explained with a dramatic sniff, glaring at me the entire time. “I could tell that you weren’t home, and I let myself in to make sure nothing was happening. I heard voices in there, but I didn’t get anybody. I think they came back out the front while I was inside.”

  “They?” Michelle’s brow furrowed and she shook her head slightly, unable to compute all the negative data she’d just been given. She looked at me, and then at Chet. “I’m sorry, but who the hell are you?”

  “Your next door neighbor,” I answered in deflation, staring Chet down like I knew exactly what this meant. I knew Chet.

  Browntooth stuck his hand out toward Michelle and she tentatively took it. “Chet,” he introduced himself with just a degree too much warmth for my taste. “I’m sorry we had to meet this way. I’ve been meaning to come by and introduce myself, but you’re such a busy little bee.” His eyes roved over her and I bristled. He was acting like I was invisible. “I never want to interrupt you.” I had just punched him in his bitch face, and the spirit moved me to do it again, but I resisted.

  “Chet... Browntooth?” Michelle wondered next, swaying to look at Chet and then at me and then at Chet again.

  “Deputy Browntooth,” Chet agreed coolly. “That’s correct.”

  “Well, Deputy Browntooth, thank you for investigating the situation,” Michelle told him.

  “Does anyone else think we should check out the house?” I asked, which neither of them seemed to be considering anymore. I plucked the crowbar from Michelle’s hands as I jogged past her.

  “Wait! Andrew!”

  I passed through the open door and strode into each room, flicking lights. No one was here. I traveled down the hallway, scrutinizing a dining room and a kitchen. There was one bedroom in the back of the house. I heard one set of light footfalls enter the house, and then another, heavier set.

  “Andrew?” Michelle called to me. “Andrew?” Her voice was high with panic.

  I flicked the light in the bedroom and made sure to check the closet for anyone. “I’m in here,” I called, poking at her dresses. There was no one in here. Whoever had broken in was gone now.

  I heard the soft crush of stockinged feet on carpet and went to meet Michelle in the doorway. “All clear,” I announced but Michelle scowled up at me.

  “You can’t just be in my bedroom by yourself with the lights on,” she hissed. “That should be part of our agreement.”

  “All right,” I allowed, smoothing my palm over the switch and blanketing the room in darkness. “How about now?”

  “That’s a little better,” Michelle whispered up to me.

  Her eyes were especially bright in the darkness, and I thought I could hear her heartbeat. It must have been a phantom.

  I stretched one curious hand up to brush my fingers over her jaw—just to see what she did, if she might stretch her neck open in welcome—and then Chet’s voice shattered our moment.

  “Miss Harper, would you like to come down to the station with me and fill out an incident report?”

  Michelle flinched away and yelled back to him, “N-no, I don’t think that’s necessary. I didn’t see anything missing.” She turned and left the room, and I deflated with a long exhale. Down, boy, I schooled myself. You have a pact with the lady. Nothing ever happened, and nothing ever will.

  I heard their voices in the distance. As I approached down the hall, she thanked him for checking her out. As I passed into the living room, Chet said, “I’ve been trying not to,” with a bashful bullshit smile. “I don’t want to alarm you, but I think it’s critical that you take a ride with me down to the station. We really do need to track this kind of thing.” And as much as I hated it, he was right.

  “That is a good idea,” I agreed. Was my brow pinching up into a frown? Just because he was going to be alone with her? I smoothed myself out and tried again. “Do you want me to come with you?” Damnit, that was no good either.

  “I’ll be fine, Andrew,” Michelle said. “But thanks.” Her eyes connected with mine and softened, warmed. Chet faded from the room. “I’ll call you—at your garage. For the total on my vehicle.”

  “No, no,” I replied casually. This was simple common sense. “You can call me on my cell any time you’d like.” I gave her the numbers and watched her put them in. “Take care of her, Chet,” I said as I passed him with a firm pat on the shoulder. “You can text that number, too.”

  Chapter Four

  Michelle

  Perspiration bloomed on the back of my neck as I scrubbed burnt pancake off a griddle with the spatula. Wisps of stray hair frizzled out of my ponytail and curled around the cherry-colored, cordless kitchen phone pressed between my shoulder and ear.

  “They didn’t trash the place, did they?” my mother’s voice squawked through the receiver.

  “They didn’t touch a thing,” I told her. “It’s eerie. The place is fully furnished. It’s got a brand new television set. Brand new kitchen appliances. Surround sound. But they didn’t take anything!”

  “Maybe it wasn’t that kind of a thief,” Mom sniffed. “We had a series of break-ins in my neighborhood when I was a girl. Panty raids. Eventually, they found the culprit. He was the custodian at the high school. Ugh.”

  “Mom,” I chastised her naïveté. I rinsed off the griddle and sat it on a towel to drip dry. “If you want used panties, you can just get on Craigslist now.”

  “So, you think it’s more likely that someone just walked through your house for the hell of it?”

  “I don’t know!” I snapped, stripping off my yellow plastic gloves. I tried to keep a tight lid on my anxiety level most of the time, but my mom could get an almost chemical reaction out of me. She always had to be right. She always got her way. Every conversation was a battle, winding me as tight as a turnkey monkey with cymbals. “The cop next door saw my house open and looked through it for me. No one was here.”

  “At least there’s a cop next door,” she allowed. “
I can’t stand the thought of my baby in a ghetto.”

  I hesitated as I crossed from the kitchen to the living room. “It’s a gated community, Mom. I have a security system. What else am I supposed to do? Get a professional bodyguard?”

  A brief, faded flash of Andrew Bogart played through my mind, his gray overalls sagged on his hips, shirtless. Watching my every move. Protecting me.

  “Allison has those dogs,” Mom volunteered. “Ask her for a puppy next time.”

  “I’m allergic,” I fumed, marching across the living room. I gripped the drapes and tugged them open, enjoying the splash of morning sunlight and the opportunity to yank out my frustration. Mom was always forgetting me, but I bet she knew the names of Allison’s two Doberman Pinchers. “I should go,” I added, partly out of sheer resentment. I tried so hard because of her. I wished Dad were still here. “I need to make some calls for work, anyway.”

  “Didn’t you say that the break-in occurred after dark?”

  “It was getting dark outside,” I allowed. I moseyed toward the front door. I liked to open it up and let a little fresh air circulate every morning while I swept the hardwood floors.

  “Where were you?”

  “I had a meeting that ran late.” Mom wasn’t getting anything more out of me than that. If she knew anything about Andrew, she would lose her hair. I was already the poor daughter, the daughter with the thankless job, the daughter who chipped away at her degree for ten years. All I needed was a swarthy boyfriend to complete the peasant package. “And then my car broke down on the side of the road.”

  “Again?” Mom sneered. “I keep telling you to get a new car.”

  “That isn’t an option right now.” I closed my eyes and wrenched open the front door. The screen was still shut, but birdsong and the smell of cut grass could filter into the house now. “I really do have to go, Mom. I need to make a call for a client, and I can’t let the day get away from me.”

  “You would have more money if you had more clients,” Mom slyly interjected into my farewell.