Page 9 of Tex's Angel

He gives me the side eye before informing me, “In case y’all haven’t heard, everything’s bigger in Texas.”

A mental image of him the other night wearing only his pajama bottoms springs to mind and I feel my cheeks getting hot. I raise an eyebrow, “Is that so?”

I can see a muscle tighten in his cheek, like he wants to laugh but for some reason won’t allow himself to loosen up withme. This man is all kinds of weird. Not in a serial killer kind of way. More like an extremely awkward, never had a girlfriend kind of way. Only, I know that can’t be true because he’s got a teenage son. Rather than have us sit in awkward silence I get my phone out and see if I can find information on the part I need and how much I’ll need to pay him.

The app I’m on is telling that that for my make and model of vehicle putting a new starter on will take close to two hours and the mechanic should be getting paid a hundred and fifty dollars an hour. That seems pricy but reasonable. I guess mechanics and plumbers get paid so much because of their specialized skill set.

Luckily the store is close, and once we’re there it only takes us about ten minutes to pick out and pay for the part. Thanks God they have it in stock. On the way back to my house, I get a text from Shelly saying that her mom came home early and is in a bad mood, so she’ll have to reschedule our meet up. I text her to bring the applications to school on Monday and I’ll help her with them in her free time.

Mr. Jones asks, “Is everything okay? You look like someone just kicked your puppy.”

I glance up from my phone and slide it into my pocket. “I just got a message from my student trying to reschedule our meet up. Sorry to put you to so much trouble today.”

“It’s fine,” he says in the least grumpy tone I’ve gotten from him thus far. “I can go ahead and put the starter in for you. It will take less than hour on your car because it’s pretty accessible.”

“What do you mean by it being accessible? We just bought the part.”

He glanced at me with a frown. “What I mean to say is starters are located in different places depending on the make and model of your vehicle. Mine is located underneath the intake manifold, so getting to it a real bitch. If I remember correctly on your car, it’s accessible from the top and easy to get to.”

I wrinkle my nose, finally understanding what he’s talking about. “That’s great news. Maybe we can have a look at my security alarm while we’re in there. Maybe it’s malfunctioning?”

His frown deepens. “There ain’t gonna be any us, darlin’. It’s gonna be me getting the job done lickety-split, because I have a hungry son to feed. I don’t have hours to walk y’all through the whole process and check out your security shit while I’m at it. Y’all need to take it back to the dealership for that.”

I sigh, realizing I should have known better than to think this man was gonna let me help with the repair. And it was downright silly to suggest he look at the security alarm. That’s clearly a specialty type repair that should be done by a qualified professional. The starter should probably be put in by a professional too, but I’m more interested in getting it done right away than having to schedule it with the dealership.

“Well, don’t worry. I plan to pay you for the labor,” I tell him because I don’t want him to think I’m trying to take advantage of him.

“I already told y’all, it’s a favor, so I ain’t taking your schoolteacher salary. Where I come from neighbors take care of each other.”

I let his words roll around in my head for a few minutes. He likes trading favors, so I perk up. “I’m making dinner for myself, I can make extra for you and your son. How does that sound?”

Suddenly, the grumpy man is all kinds of interested. “It’s been a mighty long time since we’ve had good homecooked food.” The wistful tone of his voice makes me think he might not understand that food is food, no matter who cooks it.

“I’m making lemon chicken with creamy fettuccine, a side salad and fresh rolls. I put the rolls out to rise as soon as I came home this afternoon. They should be ready to put in the oven about the time dinner is finished.”

“Y’all sure it wouldn’t be any extra trouble?” he asks, sounding sincere.

“No. Not at all. I normally make a bunch and have leftovers for days. Sharing with you and your son will save me from developing a repetitive eating disorder.”

He actually chuckles, “Now, I ain’t stupid. Y’all just made that disorder up.”

I can’t help but grin back at him. “Maybe I did. So we’re trading a favor for a favor this evening.”

“Yes ma’am, that sounds mighty fine.”

“You won’t regret it,” I tell him. “I’m a good cook, Mr. Jones.”

“Well then, it’s a good trade because I’m a good mechanic. By the way, Mr. Jones is my daddy, my name’s Wyatt, but y’all can call me Tex, everyone else does.”

“Because you’re from Texas, right?” I feel a bit silly asking the obvious, but I’m interested to know more about this man now that I have ungrumpified him.

“Yes, ma’am. I’m from Austin, Texas. That’s exactly why my club brothers call me Tex.”

“I almost forget you’re in that motorcycle club, especially on the days when you’re wearing your uniform.”

He tugs the front of his vest down, so it lays neatly and murmurs, “Well, I don’t ever forget I’m a member of the Savage Legion MC, that’s for damn sure. It would mean I’ve forgotten my club brothers. That will never happen, no siree,” he adds sharply.

I throw up my hands. “I’ve got nothing against you or your club, so don’t think my comment had a hidden meaning.”

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