Incidental Contact (Those Devilish De Marco Men)

by Connor, Eden

  “Lila’s invited Grams up for the day. They’re making that quilt, so I’m going out with Daniel in the new wrecker. Can y’all keep an eye on them for me? Don’t let Lila do something stupid, like have a snowball fight with Jonah. And if she calls you to bring her some salt, you tell her I said not just no, but oh, hell no.” Cynda waved a finger in front of her face, making him grin.

  Eric drew an X across the bare skin above his heart, nodding. “No fun for Lila. Got it.”

  The sound of footsteps pounding down the stairs made his heart lurch. The first thing he saw was Amy’s little black sneakers. When the rest of her body came into sight, she had her cell phone pressed to one ear.

  He knew he had some explaining to do. A roomful of relatives wasn’t the scene he’d envisioned before falling asleep. He’d expected to have time alone with her this morning to try and explain his reaction—or lack of one—the night before. Not fucking after her first oral sex... no telling what she might be thinking.

  At the same time, relief swept through him that she hadn’t emerged from his bedroom. Some of the darkness in Dan’s expression faded when he saw Amy come downstairs fully dressed.

  Eric raised his brows at the sight of her striped shirt and the whistle around her neck.

  Amy disconnected her call. “Good morning.” She smiled at everyone in the room—except him. “Do y’all know if Lila’s awake? I need to borrow her truck.”

  “Why are you wearing that uniform?” Eric demanded. She could look out the windows and see the world was blanketed in white. Judging from the snow piled on the deck railing, it’d snowed at least five inches overnight. That was about four and three-quarters inches more than necessary to bring everything but emergency vehicles and wreckers to a screeching halt.

  Dan spoke up. “Scott cleared sixteen wrecks last night, Amy. The bridges and back roads are slick. If you absolutely have to go out, your car would handle the roads better than Lila’s truck. That Honda’s front wheel drive.”

  Eric snorted. “It might, if her tires had any tread on ‘em. You’re staying put, Amy.”

  She shook her head and her dark eyes flashed. “I know my tires won’t get me around in this. That’s why I want to borrow Lila’s truck. Kevin’s van is still out of commission. He needs a ride.”

  “Is it an emergency?” Cynda asked, her dark eyes showing her concern. “Your friend can’t call nine-one-one?”

  “He is nine-one-one.” Amy turned her back to Eric and spoke to Cynda. “Kevin’s an emergency services operator. His mom has the flu and his dad won’t risk having a wreck in his new truck to take Kevin to work. He wasn’t supposed to work, but due to the snow, he’s been called in. The highway patrol will drive him into town, but they’re swamped too. Can’t get to him for another four hours, he says. And Daddy’s starting the tournament as scheduled, since folks drove in from three states and they’re stuck in hotel rooms. I’m meeting him at Krispy Kreme, which is next door to where Kevin works, so....” She peered out the window. In bright sunlight, the film on his windows was easy to see through. Sun sparkled across the white-crusted ground. “Fuck me, that’s a lot of snow.”

  His pants began to tent. Eric sighed. She really had to stop the gutter-talk. Hearing dirty words from those elegant lips just did it for him. Snatching up the tray, he turned to store the food in his refrigerator. He’d be damned if he wanted to think his hard-on away, though he had little choice.

  But holy hell, he was glad to feel some life down there.

  “Kevin? The guy whose chair I broke?” Amy glanced in his direction, nodding at his question, but her gaze immediately slid away.

  “I’ll call Lila. We’re on our way there. You can ride with us.” From the corner of his eye, he saw Cynda whip a lavender-clad, sparkly cell phone from her coat pocket.

  “Don’t bother.” Eric’s truck was four-wheel drive. He added a long-suffering sigh, even though driving in snow was his idea of a good time. “I’ll get dressed.”

  From his bedroom, Eric strained to hear through the walls, listening to the girl-talk about Cynda’s engagement ring, Gram’s surgery, and Amy’s haircut.

  Eric hurriedly jerked jeans over his sweatpants. Between the thick knit and his stiffy, zipping his jeans took a minute. Why couldn’t you do this last night, when I had Amy spread and begging? Unreliable motherfucker.

  Dressing in record time, he bounded back to the kitchen.

  Amy was smiling. “Where are you guys gonna have the ceremony?” Her smile faded when he appeared.

  Eric’s boots sat beside the front door. He dared to slide his hand down Amy’s spine when he walked past. At least she didn't jerk away. Shoving his feet into his shoes, he tried to figure out what he might say about his problem, without admitting he had a damn problem.

  Yet again, he was struck by what a nice person she was. Most college-age kids wouldn't be up just after dawn, ready to head out after a snow storm to help a friend get to work. Anyone who reached out to Jonah was special in his book. He took a peek at her over his shoulder, while he laced first one boot, then the next, but her attention remained on Cynda.

  Yeah, her feelings were hurt. “Stay inside till I get the truck warmed up. And where’s your damn coat?”

  “Bossy britches,” she muttered.

  “Family trait.” Cynda nodded. “You have no clue.”

  Dan pushed up his sleeve to glance at his watch. “I’ll help you scrape the ice off your windows. Some sleet’s mixed in with the snow.”

  Eric shivered while he and Dan strode outside. To sidestep any lecture about Amy, Eric brought up work. “Gonna take all four of us to keep two trucks running. Which shift do you need me to take?”

  Daniel frowned, swiping at the snow piled above Eric’s windshield wipers with one gloved hand. “Colton will help me. Scott’s grabbing some shut-eye so he can take tonight’s calls. If you’ll keep an eye on Lila and Grams, Cynda can spend the day with me.”

  Eric jerked open his truck door and yanked open his center console, pulling out two small ice scrapers.

  He tried not to hurl the spare scraper at his brother. Dan would never put Eric in charge of anything important. Not since Rafe had given Eric one, all-important assignment when he’d been a senior in high school, and Eric had failed miserably.

  Some mistakes were too big to warrant giving a man a second chance. It’d been years since anyone had directly brought the matter up in conversation, but all Eric had to do was close his eyes to hear Rafe’s angry voice.

  You’ve fucked up a lot in your day, son, but this? What the hell were you thinkin’?

  The older Rafe had gotten and the more he’d mourned for their mother, the meaner the old bastard got. Dan had been their buffer, stepping in to reason with—or physically confront—their old man when Rafe got his mad on. But Eric would never forget the one awful time Dan stood back, arms crossed and silent, while Rafe beat the fuck out of Eric. He’d been seventeen.

  Heartsick, Eric had just stood there and taken the blows, too stricken by the ramifications of his irresponsibility to even lift his hands in self-protection.

  He slid the scraper across the windshield, chipping at the ice. “Maze Elliot’s home. He wants a job driving a tow truck, if you’re hirin’. His job in the Army was rescuing broken-down tanks and such.”

  Dan’s brows went up. “Yeah? You got his number?”

  * * * *

  “I don’t suppose you’d let me drive?” Amy got the look she was expecting from Eric, like she’d unzipped his fly in church. Even her best smile didn’t melt him. As if. “Fine,” she sighed, turning for the passenger side. “I wanna drive in the snow.”

  He opened the door before throwing up a hand to Dan, Cynda, and Grams, who were just reversing into the road. “You can’t even see over the steering wheel.”

  “You say that like I can’t see through the steering wheel.” She put her foot on the step and grabbed slippery bar beside the door, sparing a moment to wave at the De Marco clan bac
king out of the drive. When she turned, his kiss took her completely by surprise.

  “Your feet wouldn’t reach the clutch. Good morning, by the way.”

  She stuck out her lower lip. “Be a better morning if you’d let me drive.”

  “Not a morning person, huh?” His smile made her want to check behind his back to see if he held a frog—or a spider.

  “I’m just tired. Kevin’s van needs to get fixed.” She’d give a lot to still be curled under the quilt in the loft. But her conscience wouldn’t let her blow her friend off. What if someone he could’ve saved died because she said no? Besides, she’d been looking forward to driving in the snow.

  “Roger that. Buckle up.” He turned away to lift Kevin’s wheelchair into the back. She twisted in the seat, sticking her head out of the truck to watch the careful way he strapped the wheelchair to the side of the truck bed.

  When he climbed into the cab, she told him where they were going and sat back. The diesel engine growled in low gear, making her itch to take the wheel. When he turned at the end of the road, she waited until the colorful boxes came into sight. “So, those dog house things are bee hives?”

  He didn’t turn his head. “Yep.”

  “They’re awfully big.”

  He didn’t answer until they got to the highway. “Takes a lot of bees to touch every flower on eight hundred acres.”

  The offhand comment sent her thoughts to a place she didn’t want to go. She sat silent, wondering how to ask why he wouldn’t have sex with her.

  “Amy?”

  “Hmm?” Her thoughts made it hard to turn and face him. She was startled when he reached for her hand.

  “I can hear you worrying all the way over here. Nothing’s wrong with you. We’re just taking things slow, okay? That’s... new for me, but it doesn’t mean I don’t want you, because I do.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “We’re just getting started, I promise.”

  She opened her mouth, but couldn’t make a sound. Raising her hand to his lips, he pressed a kiss to the tip of each finger. “You’re perfect. Seriously.”

  Oh, God, that look. She wanted to believe he couldn’t fake an expression that sincere, but she felt like someone had shoved her into a clothes dryer. Her face was burning, and every few seconds, she got turned on her head.

  He lowered her hand to his thigh, but didn’t let go of her fingers, guiding the big truck one-handed. She couldn’t think of a thing to say. He seemed to be trying hard not commit a deliberate foul. That was the definition of incidental contact, wasn’t it? She didn’t have the guts to say, “Touch me the way you do all the other flowers, dammit.” But she was tempted.

  Then again, it felt good to be special.

  If he meant a word of it.

  He turned the big truck into Kevin’s driveway. “Jarius?” He stared at the name on the mailbox. “Kevin’s last name is Jarius?”

  Why was he scowling? “Yes. Why?”

  “His brother, Jay, went to school with me, Sarah, and Colton. So, Kevin must be Dani Peyton’s cousin?”

  “Right. That’s how I know Dani.”

  The mention of Dani only accelerated her crazy thoughts.

  She wasn’t jealous. She wasn’t. To be jealous of Dani because she’d had sex with Eric was stupid. Amy might as well be jealous of half the women in town.

  Her stomach lurched.

  She picked up the whistle hanging around her neck out of habit, watching while Eric jumped out, grabbed the wheelchair, and strode up the ramp. Crying “foul” because a honey bee did what honey bees do was stupid. She pressed the whistle to her lips.

  * * * *

  Eric stood back, watching Kevin try to hoist himself into the back seat. He had to cross his arms over his chest to keep from picking the guy up.

  Kevin’s big brother had hit the jackpot playing football and baseball, earning a full ride to college. Now the ass had one of those dream jobs, playing in the NFL. Eric was already tempted to like the spunky younger brother, though he had little use for Jay. Knowing the guy didn’t take a handout from his big brother to buy his chair sealed the deal in Eric’s mind. If he’d been spending Jay’s money, Kevin would no doubt have the titanium chair. Eric wasn’t about to strip the man of his pride by offering to pick him up and put him in the back seat, but this wasn’t working.

  Kevin’s hand kept sliding off the chrome grab bar mounted alongside the rear truck door. The bar was covered in ice and his injured elbow was giving him all kinds of pain, judging from his grimaces.

  Taking a step back, Eric opened the driver’s door. “Amy, grab that pair of work gloves out of my console, please.”

  She found the gloves, handing them across the truck. He dropped them onto Kevin’s lap. The younger man silently yanked them over reddened hands. Either the rubberized dots covering the palms did the trick, or his prior attempts had melted some ice. On his next try, Kevin was able to pull his body onto the back seat. Eric looked away from the younger man’s pained expression. While Kevin used his hands to lift one leg into the truck, then the other, Eric grasped the handles, ready to fold up the regular wheelchair.

  “I’ll do that,” Kevin insisted. “I can slide it in right here beside me.”

  “Okay.” Eric slid behind the wheel and waited for Kevin to close the heavy door.

  Amy turned in her seat, eying Kevin’s exertions. He hoped he’d smoothed over her concerns. If so, all he had to do now was figure out what it would take to get hard.

  The pair chatted while Eric navigated the glazed neighborhood roads. A ringtone interrupted the conversation. Amy open a zippered pocket on her ski jacket, pulling out her cell phone. Frowning at the display, she flipped open the cover. After one or two “yes sir’s”, she snapped the phone closed and punched Eric on the arm. “Whoo hoo! Guess who’s on the officiating team for the first round of high school playoffs?”

  “And you said they wouldn’t pick a woman.” From the corner of his eye, Eric saw Kevin shove his fist over the seat. Amy slammed hers on top, just as a fire truck dove into the street, pulling out of the station at the corner. “Way to go, babe.”

  “Good job,” Eric added, braking lightly. He took his eyes off the road, scowling into the rear view mirror. Babe?

  When he looked back at the road, to his horror, a second truck had pulled out. The wide chrome bumper—and two men—were only feet away. He wasn’t going fast, but the fire truck’s driver hit the brakes at the stop sign. Eric flung out an arm to pin Amy to the seat, turned the wheel to his left, and tapped the brakes. The truck skidded sideways on the icy surface. Eying the side view mirror, Eric moved the wheel a bit more to the left, in the direction of the skid, still pumping the brakes. C’mon, c’mon, slow your ass down.

  The heavy tread on his tires should bite into the ice and the truck weighed three-quarters of a ton, but the few seconds it took for the vehicle to shudder to a stop seemed like an hour. Looking in the side view mirror while his heart kicked his ribs, he saw the outer rear tire hung over thin air. He eyed the snow-filled ditch, clenching the wheel.

  There was never just one responding vehicle to a fire. Sweat stung his armpits and the back of his neck. Stupid.

  The sirens made talking impossible until the fire trucks sped away. A third truck pulled out and roared past while Eric took deep breaths.

  “Damn, he never even looked left!” Kevin spluttered, shoving the wheelchair off his knees, back to the far side of the floorboard. He blew out a harsh breath. “Yeah, okay. I’m not a fan of out-of-control vehicles. Good driving, dude.”

  “Do I look like a baby to you?” Amy demanded, bending Eric’s little finger until pain streaked through his hand. He pulled his gaze from the rear-view and Kevin to look at her.

  You don’t look like his baby. “Your seatbelt’s not fastened.” Eric pulled his arm away and faked a grin. “Buckle up, both of you. All the idiots will be out joy-riding. North Church Street, right? Is that where we’re heading?” He eased forward, relieved when the big t
ires caught in the snow churned up by the fire engines. “That’s gonna take about forty-five minutes in this mess.”

  “Yeah, it’s okay, as long as I get there. It’s the county administration building on North Church. I work in the basement, next to the sheriff’s department. Damn, three fire engines is a lot. I wonder what’s on fire?”

  Another few miles went by and Amy cried, “Oh, my God!” Eric nearly threw his arm across her again.

  “Jesus.” He slowed to a crawl, leaning over the steering wheel to peer past Amy at the tangle of flashing lights and extended ladders. Multiple streams of water arced through the air, shooting into billows of black smoke. He spied the broken glass surrounding the front door of the old high school’s gymnasium building. Every local high school sent their shop students to this central location for vocational classes—like auto shop. “I’d have thought that building had enough asbestos in it to make it fireproof. I guess the tar roof caught fire?”

  “Fuck,” Kevin muttered. “There goes our dream of a year-round training camp. Team just can’t catch a break.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Eric had never been through the doors of the new Krispy Kreme. Situated diagonally across North Church Street from the original location, the brick façade made the two-story building look pretentious in a way the one built in the ‘sixties never had.

  Holding the door open for Amy, he asked, “What kind of doughnuts do you want?”

  Apparently, he’d been forgiven for not letting her fly through his windshield. She smiled and pointed. “The hot sign’s on.”

  “Good choice. Meet you there. Coffee?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Tea.”

  He peeled off to place their order while she headed for the back of the building. The crowd looked like an even split between college kids and truck drivers. Textbooks lay open beside tall cups. A few big rigs lined the parking lot. Eric had no trouble spotting the weary truckers, the ones who studied the weather and the waitresses. A jolt to his side made him drop his gaze.