by Nancy Naigle
Flynn wriggled free from the choke hold. “What were you doing?” Flynn pushed his arm down and stepped away from him. “You scared the pure living daylights out of me.”
“Out of us,” Megan echoed, her purse dangling from its straps in her white-knuckled death grip.
“I thought you were an intruder.”
“It’s Boot Creek. Not Los Angeles.”
“It’s the middle of the night. And for the record, we don’t have intruders where I live either, but it can happen anywhere.”
“It’s an old house. The door sticks. Jeez.” Flynn rubbed her chest, which was tinged pink. “What are you even doing awake?”
He straightened, stretching the dull ache down the middle of his back.
“I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?” Megan asked.
A shadow of alarm touched her face. He leaned forward, with his hands on his knees. “Knocked the breath out of me.” He blew out a few breaths and then stood back up. “I won’t need to worry about your safety. That was a hell of a punch, but I’m fine.”
She lifted her purse in the air, and shrugged. “I have this bad habit of collecting way too many coins in the bottom of my purse. It’s heavy.”
“I can vouch for that.” He blew out another breath and stretched his back. “I’m pretty handy, Flynn. Why don’t you let me take a look at the door while I’m here this week? To make up for the choke hold.”
“That would be helpful. Thanks,” Flynn said looking him up and down.
Noah suddenly felt very underdressed in a pair of shorts. They’d been drinking. He knew that glassy-eyed look girls got at closing time. But then again, closing time would have been an hour ago. “You girls been out on the town? It’s, like, three in the morning.”
“We know that. What are you doing up?”
“Couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d have a snack when I heard someone coming in. I thought you were asleep.”
“You have that much crime in California that you automatically attack when you hear a noise?”
Okay, he asked for that. He may have overreacted to the situation. “No. Not really.”
Megan burst into a fit of giggles. “Can you imagine if he’d actually knocked you out, Flynn? That would have been the biggest news the Boot Creek Bugle ever covered.” She turned to Noah. “I bet you’d have made the front page.”
“Which would have sucked because I’d have upstaged the bride. I’m sure that’s the headline this week.”
He pointed toward the kitchen. “I think I’ll go back and finish my snack.” That was embarrassing. Thank goodness Ford hadn’t woken up. He’d never hear the end of it.
Flynn and Megan walked into a room off the back of the B&B. He heard the door click closed behind them but could still hear them talking. He shoved the cookie in his mouth, then washed out the mug and put it in the dishwasher.
What’ll you do for an encore, idiot?
He walked to the front door, grabbing one of the house keys off of the bureau next to it. The last thing he needed tonight was for Flynn to lock him out by accident. He didn’t have any idea if Megan was coming back out or not, and he wasn’t about to go knocking on Flynn’s room door to find out.
Get some air. Maybe they’re so drunk they won’t even remember.
He was more awake now than he’d been when he first came downstairs. Not too bad a thing, though. Maybe this would be enough of a body clock interruption to get him on East Coast time.
Outside, the night sky was dark. No interruptions from big city lights or the glow from neighboring towns. Just a dark, inky night sky and stars. A bird chirped out a warning from a nearby tree. Or maybe it was a hello. Frogs sounded like out-of-tune banjos twanging back and forth.
He hadn’t heard these night sounds since he’d been back in Franklin, Tennessee, growing up. He’d spent as many nights as he could sleeping out in the tree fort he and his dad had built together. Even long after a tree fort should have been cool, into his teens, he’d taken refuge in that thing. He could have just as easily ended up like that tree house guy on the cable network, building swanky adult tree houses, had he followed the love for building that his dad had had rather than the love for cars that he and his granddad had shared.
A trio of chairs nestled up to a small round wicker glass-topped table on the far end of the porch. He plopped down in one of the oversized chairs and propped his feet up on the porch rail. It was one of those no temperature nights. Not too hot. Not too cool. Just enough breeze to keep the air moving.
He stared into the sky.
Being a Scorpio, he still remembered how to find that constellation from his days in the planetarium back in grade school. The stars and planets had always fascinated him. Maybe that’s why fast cars interested him. Kind of like rocket ships, only on Earth where he had control.
The bright star Antares was easy to spot; he followed that to the outline of the scorpion. He wished on Antares as he often had as a kid. Of course, he couldn’t remember if he’d ever had any of those wishes come true. But one more wish to get that car deal sealed soon or later couldn’t hurt.
Then again, he was pretty sure he didn’t need any help. He’d made those kinds of deals hundreds of times. This was in the bag.
Wishing on stars was a kid’s game.
Megan walked out of the front door, pulling it closed quietly behind her.
“Hey,” Noah said.
“What?” She turned and stomped her foot. “Do you have a goal of scaring a certain number of people each day?”
His smirk irked her. “What? You don’t do anything without a goal?”
“Maybe. And what’s so wrong with that?”
He shrugged. “Might miss something if you don’t take the time to be spontaneous once in a while.”
“I’ll take my chances, thank you. Why are you always popping up out of nowhere? What are you doing out here?”
“Sitting. Enjoying the quiet. I couldn’t sleep.”
“Now I probably won’t sleep—thanks for the middle of the night adrenaline shot.” She started down the porch, and then turned to walk up the block.
Noah got to his feet and jogged out barefooted to catch up with her.
“You walked?”
“I didn’t fly.”
“It’s the middle of the night.”
“It’s not that far.”
“I could walk you.”
She turned and pulled her hands on her hips. “Oh, really. And then who is going to walk you back to be sure you don’t get lost? You go back to the inn. I know my way home, thank you very much.”
“I was just trying to be nice.”
“Well, don’t. I kind of prefer to take care of myself.”
He raised his hands in the air. “Got it. Loud and clear.” And he liked her more and more. She was feisty. And she had his car. He wouldn’t let her get far for long.
“Thank you.” She flipped her long hair over her shoulder and walked away, her long beach curls bouncing with each step.
Noah reluctantly let her be. Taking slow steps backward in the direction he’d come. He didn’t turn his back on her. She was too good a sight to waste.
Noah could barely drag himself out of bed the next morning. Even the smell of bacon and Ford giving him a hard time for missing the home-cooked meal wasn’t enough to help him shake the cobwebs.
That last gander at Megan walking down the street last night had been just as mind-consuming as the possibility of the car of his dreams being within arm’s reach.
But he’d stalled as long as he could. They’d all come in town early to help Jackson get ready for the wedding. Getting his bachelor pad ready for his ready-made family, that is. Jackson had decided early on that he could use their collaborative brute force to make easier work of getting his stuff moved around, and then Angie’s things packed up and moved in. But a few weeks ago that had become the secondary priority.
Jackson had challenged them to help turn a guest room into the best boy’s room they could
dream up for his stepson. Noah had had a race-car bed when they were kids, and Jackson had coveted that thing. Heck, all his friends had wished for one just like it. The bed Dad had built had been made out of MDF, and that wood-wanna-be weighed a ton, but Noah was going to do one better—and it was going to blow little Billy away.
He got out of bed and rounded up Ford to head over to Jackson’s house.
And when they rolled up into the driveway, Jackson was standing in the middle, staring at the huge crate that had been dropped off.
“When you said delivery, I thought you meant like a box from UPS,” Jackson said. “What the heck?”
They guys piled out of the rental car.
“This thing was delivered by a big rig with a Tommy lift. I don’t think we’re moving it.” Jackson leaned his whole weight into the crate. It didn’t budge.
Noah clapped his hands together, rubbing them together in excitement. “It’s fine right where it is. The stuff inside is smaller.”
“What exactly did you ship here? You’re not human trafficking, are you? You could send a whole crew of workers in this thing. Hello, anyone in there?”
Noah walked over to Jackson’s truck and helped himself. “You said you wanted to build some kind of car-themed bed for Billy. I told you I’d send some stuff.” He pushed tools and boxes of screws from side to side. “Don’t you have a hammer or a crowbar in here?”
Jackson walked over, and without so much as a glance, reached in and pulled out a hammer.
“Thanks.” Noah went to work on the wooden crate. “Billy’s bed is going to rock. This is going to be the room I’d have for my kid . . . if I were going to have any. Which I’m not.”
Jackson said, “You could practically fit a whole Smart Car in that box.”
“That wouldn’t be saying much. And that would not be the car bed of a boy’s dreams either.”
The wood groaned as Noah pried, loosening the corners of the crate. He tossed the smaller pieces off to the side. “Kindling is free.”
“Good. We’ll need that in a few months,” Jackson said.
“Derek and Ford are going to start painting the room while you and I work on the bed,” Noah said.
“All right.” Jackson shoved his hands in his pocket. “Looks like you’ve got a plan.”
Noah tapped the side of his head. “Oh, yeah. Right up in here.” He started pulling out pieces, some wrapped in brown paper, others rolled in bubble wrap. “Some old license plates. We can use them for lamp shades, or shelves for Billy’s toys, or something. I thought they’d be fun.”
“Cool.”
The next wad of paper looked like a loaf of bread. Noah unrolled the paper, revealing a stack of car emblems. “Chevrolet. Dodge. Ford. GMC. Mercedes. Porsche. Even VW. An assortment of brands here. Don’t want to influence the young mind.”
“That box is huge. There’s got to be something bigger than that stuff in there.”
Noah smiled. “You bet there is. Help me lift this out, Ford.”
Ford walked over and helped Noah hoist a long, thick rectangular box over the side of the crate. They laid it on the grass.
“Do the honors,” Noah said to Jackson, who whipped out a pocketknife and slit the packing tape. He tugged one side of the box down, exposing a bright turquoise corner of steel. “Get the heck out of here, man.”
“Nice. Right?”
Jackson used his knife to remove the rest of the box. “Billy is going to go ape. He may never get to sleep.”
The turquoise blue Chevrolet truck tailgate had all the character of a truck used hard. “I thought Angie might like it better if we at least gave her a color she could live with.”
“The blue is perfect. And the dents and scrapes make it even cooler. You thinking this will be the headboard?” Jackson looked like he’d just had his first kid and was going to hand out cigars. “Man, this is going to be great. Think my new bride would mind sleeping in a truck bed?”
“Uhh, yeah. She might not be a fan of that. And that will not be the headboard.” Noah worked the other side of the box. “This will be the headboard.”
Jackson leaned in to get a look. “What is it?”
The guys teamed around the crate each grabbing an edge. Only about six inches deep, it was every bit of four feet high when they pulled out the metal shell of the back of a ’57 Chevy truck cab, back glass window and all.
Noah reveled in Jackson’s delight.
“You’ve outdone yourself, man,” Jackson said.
“I’m not the biggest fan of matrimony, but Jackson, I want you to be happy and I think it’s really cool that you wanted to do this for your new son. You’re going to be a great dad.”
“Thanks, Noah. That means a lot. You’re going to make me a hero in that kid’s eyes.”
“I’m betting you’re already kind of a hero in his eyes, but I’ll take the Best Man of the Year trophy anytime you’re ready to hand it over.” Noah slapped Jackson’s hand in a high five. “There are a few other things in this crate I tossed in. We may or may not use. Some taillights. I don’t know how long all of this is going to take, but you can always do some other projects later with this junk, or just toss it.”
“Did you get the paint for the room?” Ford asked. “Because while y’all are going gaga over car parts, Derek and I need to get to work on priming and painting that room.”
“Got the paint, and I’ve already taped off the woodwork,” Jackson said. “I’d hoped I’d get that room at least primed before y’all arrived. Didn’t happen, though. It’s been crazy trying to keep it a secret from Angie.”
“No problem. We can knock it out,” Ford said. “I brought beer. We can do anything with enough beer.”
“And pizza. We’ll need copious amounts of pizza,” Noah said. “You do have pizza delivery out here, don’t you?”
Jackson shook his head. “Nope, but it’s only two blocks. We can call ahead and someone can go get it.”
“And y’all think Alaska is remote,” Ford teased. “You have to drive for your pizza? May as well be with me up there. All right, so we need a designated driver else someone has to walk to pick up pizza.”
“I’ll be the designated driver,” Noah said. “I’ll do anything to not have to wield a paintbrush.”
“Painting isn’t your kind of dirty is it, Hot Rod?” Ford snickered.
“Shut up,” Noah said, even as he laughed at the old nickname.
“For the record, I take exception to the fact that Noah picked out a Chevrolet truck to turn into a bed. Then again, all the Fords are probably on the road, getting something done.”
Jackson and Noah both groaned. The old Ford vs. Chevrolet digs had been going on between them since high school.
“I’ve got you figured out though, Noah. You were afraid of putting a Ford in there because the kid might see the word Ford on the tailgate every day and think of me. You want to be the favorite. I get it.”
Without fail. Things always ended up a competition when the four of them got together.
Jackson said, “Yeah, well, you could have come up with the plan and sent parts.”
“No one asked me.” Ford wiped his wet hands on the back of his pants, and then repositioned his ball cap.
“That’s because I was afraid Billy would end up sleeping in an igloo if I asked you.” Jackson nudged Noah and laughed.
“Alaska isn’t all igloos, polar bears, and ice fishing, you know. Y’all are watching too much reality TV.”
“That’s probably true, but still,” Jackson said. “You’re not really the carpenter of the group. Plus, Noah offered when I told him what I was thinking about doing.”
“I’d have given my right arm for a bed like that when I was a kid,” Ford said. “When we get it done, I call dibs on test-driving it for sleepability.”
“You always call first dibs,” Noah teased. “I bet that means something. You probably need some kind of therapy or something.”
“Funny.”
And it
was funny, because out of all of them, Ford was probably the sanest one. They’d all gotten college degrees, none of which were being used, but Ford had at least used his college degree to supplement his income so he could remain flexible enough to do the things he loved. He’d taken the reins of his uncle’s company and quadrupled its size in record time by leveraging the internet and social media. That tiny Tennessee company turned into a nationwide product distribution center. Now they shipped their exclusive beef, turkey, venison, and bison jerky worldwide. And Ford hadn’t wasted any time hiring someone to work that company so he could take off to explore the country.
Ford had been the first to succeed in business. First to leave Tennessee. And always first to call dibs. That was Ford in a nutshell.
Too bad Noah hadn’t left Nashville when Ford had. He could have avoided that first disaster of an engagement altogether. He wouldn’t be surprised if some of those folks were still harboring ill feelings toward him for calling off that wedding, even though Jenny was happily married with three kids now.
“If you’re still standing after the bachelor party, we’ll let you sleep in the cool bed.” Noah shot a glance toward Derek. “This guy never could hold his liquor.
Ford stopped what he was doing. “We’re doing a bachelor party?”
Derek shrugged. “I thought Angie said y’all weren’t doing that?”
“Why wouldn’t we?” Noah said.
“I don’t know. No one said anything.”
“It’s an unspoken rule. Man-law.” Noah looked to the others for confirmation, but neither Jackson nor Ford looked overly interested in the prospect of a party-hard ruckus out on the town. This was going to take some doing.
“We aren’t going to be doing a bunch of stupid shit the night before the wedding,” Jackson said. “I already told Angie there wouldn’t be any shenanigans.”
“Why’d you go and do that?” Ford asked. “You know Noah throws the best parties ever.”