And now that twenty questions were over, Jason needed to send her on her way. As he headed to the metal gate, he thanked her for coming. There was very little sincerity in the words, but he didn’t think she would notice.
Her dark eyes flickered once. Okay, she noticed. He kicked a particularly heavy cast-iron drum. The pain was solid, well deserved. His foot would recover.
“That’s some car.”
Back and forth she shifted, like she was embarrassed about her mode of transport, but after seeing his mode of habitat, he couldn’t understand why she would care.
“I bought it in Tennessee.”
“Long drive for a car,” he noted, realizing he was making conversation, lingering in her company.
It was her breasts. Had to be.
Evil breasts.
His body hardened at the thought of touching her evil breasts.
“Tennessee was on the way,” she responded, hopefully not tuned in to his thoughts.
“Surprised the car made it,” he told her, channeling his thoughts into another more socially-acceptable direction.
Seeing her wince, he made a mental note to stop commenting on the dicey condition of her vehicle, but it was a little hard to ignore. The inside of the car appeared to be in as bad shape as the outside, with a blanket thrown over the backseat like a tarp. The tarp was most likely designed to keep out prying eyes—like his own. A gallon jug of water was sitting in the front seat, some food wrappers, a pillow, a half-open gym bag and a small sack for trash. Her home.
As he continued to stare at her mode of habitat, a flush crept up her face, and he knew her habitat was a taboo conversation topic, too. That worked out well for him since he wanted her off his place.
All of her, including her breasts.
“You’re staying with your brother?” he asked pleasantly. As parting remarks went, it wasn’t the best.
“Oh, yeah,” she answered quickly, moving to stand in front of her car, blocking his view.
“Good,” he said, not that he believed her. Considering the state of her car, her finances, he didn’t think she was related to anybody in town. If she had family, she would have gone there first.
Probably the brother thing was a lie, as well. In which case, she’d be jobless, living out of her car…
Not that he cared.
She reached for the door handle and yanked it open, the damn thing sticking so hard that her shoulder was now probably dislocated.
Jobless, dislocated shoulder, living out of her car…
Not that he cared.
“You need a job?” he asked, sounding exactly like he was offering her a job. The woman turned, her eyes swimming with hope—until it was gone.
“You know someone who’s hiring?” she asked, her eyes not so hopeful, unless a man was looking.
“I need some help here,” he offered, thinking quickly. “Organizing.”
Not that he wanted organization, not that he wanted human companionship, especially of the female variety, especially of the homeless, jobless female variety.
Most likely, she was needy.
His old army buddies would be laughing their asses off.
Of course, if any of them saw her breasts, they would understand.
“I’m a great organizer,” she said, hands clasped tight in front of her, prayer-like, and he realized how much she wanted this.
A job.
Not him.
Not that he was even thinking sex. A man who lived in a junkyard with one good eye was no prize. Nope, Sonya had made that clear, and that was long before his junkyard phase.
No, it wasn’t the sex. It was the idea of this woman being out there alone. Jason might not be the biggest people-person in the world, but sometime people deserved better. Sometimes—rarely, but sometimes—Jason noticed.
“It’d be temporary,” he added, in case she thought he was charitable.
“That’d be perfect. It’ll give me a chance to settle in town and find a permanent position.”
“Yeah. I can’t afford a lot,” he said, in case she thought he was loaded.
“I don’t need a lot,” she told him, obviously guessing he wasn’t loaded.
“Good.” They stood there and stared for a minute, and she didn’t seem to mind his eye patch. Since she was going to be working for him, not shrinking in horror was a plus.
Finally she spoke. “I’m Brooke Hart.”
“Jason Kincaid.” He should have offered her his hand, but he didn’t. A handshake implied a contract, a pledge. This was nothing more than one human being helping out a woman who needed a chance to get her life together.
Not that he cared.
“So, you’re staying with your brother?” he asked again, in case she wanted to come clean about her living situation.
“Yeah,” she answered, not coming clean. Message received. Don’t ask about the living situation, either.
“You can start tomorrow?”
“First thing.”
“Not too early. I don’t get up early,” he lied. Jason got up at the crack of dawn, but he thought he should straighten up his place first. Get things in order before she started….
“Not a problem. I have a lot of things to do.” She paused. “With my brother.”
“Sure,” he agreed like an idiot. Rather than letting her notice that he actually was an idiot, he headed back toward the gate.
“I’ll see you tomorrow around ten. That’ll be okay?”
The smile was back in place.
Not that he cared.
Then she nodded and climbed into the Hell-Car. Once he returned to the yard, he spent the rest of the day repairing an old wheelchair. Yet every time he looked toward the porch, it was the red LED that was lit, not the green. Sometimes animals set off a false positive, but not often, and not tonight. Someone was out there, or maybe someone had never left.
When night fell, and the crickets began to chrip, Jason quit working and then walked along the fence line, a man with no particular purpose at all. When he was a kid, he had sat on the porch with his dad, watching the sky and the stars, talking baseball and trusting the world to pass by peacefully.
After thirteen
