Page 10 of Single Mom's Mountain Men
A sudden knock on the door shatters the image and has me scrambling for sanity.
CHAPTER 4
Wes
Iwhistle as I round the corner, slowing to a momentary stop when I hear the unmistakable, tinkling sound of a drop-forged steel spanner hitting the concrete floor. An unfamiliar, beat-up old Ford sedan that looks like it ought to have been crushed and recycled at least five years ago sits in our driveway. Slid underneath it is a body wearing a particularly ugly pair of boots that I would recognize anywhere.
I grin as I approach the car, slamming my hand hard on the bumper and enjoying the startled movement below, followed by the sound of his swearing.
Charlie pulls himself out from beneath the vehicle and glares at me. His expression clearly says what his mouth doesn’t. Then he says it anyway.
“What the fuck?”
“I should be asking you that,” I say. “What the fuck is this car doing in our driveway? Don’t we have enough run-down junk in this yard that you had to go bring more?” We have at least ten broken-down cars on our property thanks to my late father's pathological need to fix every vehicle he’s ever comeacross. I had hoped that that particular proclivity had skipped his children, but here Charlie is, underneath a brand-new wreck, eager it would seem to carry on the tradition. Not if I can help it.
“It's not junk,” he says. “It belongs to someone.”
“Who?”
“Why the fuck should I tell you?”
“Ooh, so it’s a secret. You know how I like secrets.” I peek into the car, noting that there are blankets in the back and it’s also a trash bag full of snack wrappers. There’s water and Twizzlers on the backseat too. “My powers of deduction are telling me that this is your nonexistent lost girlfriend and her kids coming to visit. Either that or a bunch of pre-diabetic co-eds. Am I right?”
He doesn’t dignify that with an answer, simply sliding back under the car to continue his tinkering.
I lean against the door. “What’s wrong with it?”
Now that does elicit an answer.
“Rear passenger tire’s very low. It’ll be flat in a few miles if it doesn’t get some air, and that almost certainly means it’s punctured and needs changing. The silencer back box has come away from the chassis, but that’s an easy fix. That plus some electrical stuff that’s been messed up, so her AC doesn’t run.”
“Ah.” So itisa she. I’d figured as much, judging from the bright pink thermos in the driver’s cupholder. That and she’s managed to get Charlie crawling underneath the chassis of her car, fixing it up for her, of course. "And is she paying you for this?”
“No, but I’d be willing to pay you to leave me alone.”
“What? No, no, no. Tormenting you is the only fun I have around here.” That and Cockrey’s bar, but that's an hour's drive and it'll probably be empty at this time. Plus, I shouldprobably steer clear of Cockrey's for a while, after I pissed off the owner by flirting with his missus.
In my defenseshehad come ontome.
Still...
“Speaking of which, I thought you went into town to get something for us to chow on for dinner. The fridge is practically empty. Did you get anything?"
Charlie says nothing.
I knock on the bumper again. “Hello? I’m talking to you.”
Nothing again and I sigh. He’s reverted to his factory setting of ‘Silent Charlie’. And once Charlie goes mute it takes an act of God to get him to talk.
I let out a long-suffering sigh, wondering who I offended in my last life to end up with two brothers like the ones I have. First, there’s Mitch who wouldn't know the word 'fun' if it bit him in the ass. He's as cold blooded as they come, all duty and responsibility. Plus, he takes the whole 'oldest' brother thing a bit too seriously and thinks he can boss his two younger brothers around and turn them into workaholics like him.
And then there’s Charlie, who’s less of a workaholic but instead comes with the annoying disposition of simply being silent most of the time and too big to bully all of the time.
It’s irritating and I wish I could go back to the drawing table to pick new brothers, maybe the type that would form a motorcycle gang with me and ride around having fun, causing casual menace amongst the males whilst taking the pick of their women. Instead of these two lame-o’s I am actually stuck with.
“Boring,” I mutter and shift from the car, heading towards the guest house.
I don’t make it three steps before Charlie’s hand is grasping my elbow, pulling me back.
