Page 2 of Yours

“I heard.” I was the one who called 9-1-1 when he suddenly collapsed yesterday, hitting his head on the way down. The docs must have called me as well as Darcy because I got the same update. “He send you to check up on me?” I ask.

She nods. “He told me he thinks the SUV’s dash lights aren’t working because of a mouse problem in the engine compartment, and the Ford van needs ignition wire replacements.”

“Already done,” I say with a touch of pride. I’m not a total half-wit, after all. I’ve always been good with my hands, and Milton helped me find a good use for them. If not for him, I’d probably still be on the streets. Maybe even in jail.

“Oh,” she says. It’s obvious she’s checking me out, her lashes fluttering over those perfect cheeks when I catch her. I’m filled with regret for the way I used to treat her. For the first time, I wonder if her leaving town for school had something to do with me. I used to love the way she’d get completely tongue-tied when trying to talk to me. Thinking of this now makes me feel like an ass.

“Okay if I stop by later?” I ask, surprising myself. Sometimes Milton and I kick back at his place with a beer or watch baseball on Sundays. It’s not like we’re some sweet family unit or anything like that, but he’s decent company. I have plenty of friends—girls, too—but I like to make sure the guy doesn’t get too lonely. I know he misses Darcy a lot even though he doesn’t admit it.

“Uh, sure,” she says.

“I want to give him the pass-down,” I add stupidly, hoping this doesn’t sound like I made it up, because I did.

Her cheeks have turned a shade of pale pink. “I’m making soup for dinner,” she says, clasping her hands in front of her in a way that squeezes her full tits closer together. I’m sure she has no idea she’s doing it. I practically moan at the idea of peeling off that sweater. “Would you like to join us?” she asks.

* * *

After finishing up and setting everything in order for tomorrow, I close the shop and jump in my truck. She purrs to life and I cruise to the curb, idling as I check for cars. My mind’s been on idle ever since Darcy left the shop, taking me to someverydirty places. I think about those long legs, her skirt, and how I’d like to bend her over my lap. I’d ask her about what she lets those Ivy League boys do to her. Fantasizing about pulling up her skirt to expose a tiny little thong disappearing between her tight little college girl cheeks makes my skin tingle. I’d have no choice but to spank her for such naughtiness. The thought gives me a rush. My mind races, my hands gripping the steering wheel harder.

When she was a kid, I wanted nothing to do with her—she paraded around with her nose in a book, spouting big words. I knew she had a crush on me, but I never gave it any thought. And now that she’s a gorgeous young woman, it’s like I can’t get her out of my mind.

Case in point—I’ve got a raging hard-on while idling at the edge of the parking lot.

“Quit it, Kotler,” I mutter, ashamed I would fantasize about her writhing in my lap like that. I mean, I would never her hurt her or anything. But damn, wouldn’t it be fun to see how hot I could get her?

At my place, I quickly shower, taking extra time to scrub my greasy hands, though they’ll never get completely clean. The grime seeps into the layers of skin. Unless I quit monkeying around with cars, my fingertips will be forever stained. I check my phone and see several messages, all from girls I’m in various stages of wooing. One wants me to come over, but I tell her I’m busy. She replies with a selfie of her naked chest and the words:you sure?

I chuckle at this, but even the sight of her perky tits doesn’t change my mind. The only set of tits on my mind right now is Darcy’s. I groan to myself as I silence my phone and tuck it in my back pocket, noticing my dick is throbbing inside my jeans again.Get a hold of yourself,I think. But I’m worried I’m so wound up I’m going to say something stupid. Will she notice Mr. Obvious down there? I should just go polish the family jewels and be done with it, but I don’t have time. With another groan, I grab my keys and head out the door.

Two

Darcy

I’ve made the soup on autopilot, my mind too wrapped up in thoughts I shouldn’t be having—of Brian. He’s just as hunky and swoony as when I was fifteen. I’ve seen him since then, sure, but only from afar. I told myself to stay away, but now here I am about to have dinner with him.

His body has grown even more manly, probably from lifting heavy things at the garage and working on cars all day, twisting wrenches and screwdrivers. One thing is definitely different though—the way he looked at me. I can still remember the shock in his eyes when he recognized me. I hadn’t expected that. It gives me a little thrill even though I tell myself to quit it. He’s not interested in me. He wasn’t then; he made that clear.

Back when he first started working with my dad, I had my nose shoved in a book almost all the time, something he teased me about relentlessly. But I still pined for him. And not just because he’s tall, dark, and perfect, but because he didn’t grow up in Willow Creek; he didn’t know the history about my mom.

When I was fifteen, I got into a special school, and even though it was far away, my dad thought it best I go. He said our town didn’t have what I needed, that at this fancy school I could be anything: a rocket scientist, doctor, or an artist. I’m sure part of it was because of the way the other kids treated me growing up. He wanted to get me away from all of that.

Before I left, I was feeling bold and came by the shop late, when I knew Brian would be there. Underneath my jean shorts and t-shirt, I had on the only set of matching lingerie I owned. I had fantasized about kissing him. Foolish me, I thought maybe his constant teasing meant he wanted to be with me, too. Even though he’s older, even though he’s practically a son to my dad.

Of course, he turned me down. Actually laughed at me, called me a “good kid,” and said I’d break plenty of hearts someday.

Ha. That’s the kicker. I never dated in high school—the boys who made life hell for me growing up changed their tune once I got boobs, thought it would be okay to ask me out. When I turned them down, they called me a tease.

After the way they tormented me growing up, there was no way I was going anywhere with them. When a girl’s mother is the town slut who gets run out of town, she either lives up to her bad name or she refuses it all. There is no middle ground.

I was still too shy to date anyone seriously at boarding school. And they all knew I was on financial aid. It was like a big sign on my back. I went on a few dates here and there, but, each time, I felt like some kind of foreign species they wanted to put under a microscope. And I heard those words from my childhood repeating over and over in my head:slut, whore, tease.

I dated a guy my senior year, but he only wanted what he thought was an easy lay for the Autumn Gala. I’d never felt so frustrated. By that point, I would have given away my virginity to just about anyone to get it over with, but his attempts only turned me off. I wondered if he had missed the lesson on female anatomy in sex ed. I still shudder, thinking about it.

I’m ashamed to say I’m still a virgin years later in college. It’s so embarrassing—I mean, I’m twenty-one years old. I fantasize about being with someone who knows how to make me feel good. Even though I get ashamed. Those teasing words from my childhood still lurk in the back of my brain, but I’ve put them in my past. I’m not my mother—I’m a grown woman, and I shouldn’t let her choices rule my life.

I think about Brian, and a flash of heat tingles over my skin. If only he could be my first.

A knock at the door startles me from my thoughts.

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