“Dunn, knock it off,” Brooks warned.
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you made something with it. I thought… Never mind. Shit, Mal. I didn’t mean to offend, really.” He looked sincere. His goofy face suddenly fell to a worried grimace. “Let me help. I’m really sorry. I didn’t think before I spoke. It’s… kind of a bad habit of mine.”
I let out a breath. When was I going to stop assuming the worst of people? “It’s fine. Yes, you can help. Some of these boxes are heavy.”
Brooks made sure Dunn carried the worst of the boxes, but by the time we schlepped everything to my booth, we were all pouring sweat. “I’d forgotten how muggy the South was in the summer,” I grumbled, pulling my T-shirt up to wipe off my face.
Brooks’s eyes tracked the trail from my waistband up to my chest, his gaze lighting my skin on fire even more and threatening to plump up my dick in front of all the other vendors busy setting up around us.
Dunn took off to help some other people while Brooks cleared his throat. “Want me to find us some cold water? I think they have coolers full at the service booth.”
I nodded. “Yeah, thanks. I’ll start unpacking.”
It was several degrees cooler under the tent, and I was happy to see the fair had provided each booth with a long table and two folding chairs. I sank into a chair and began ripping open boxes. By the time Brooks got back with dripping wet bottles of water, I’d set up the portable display wall for the back of the booth and hung up several items.
“Holy shit, Mal,” Brooks said, handing me a bottle. “This is what you make? It looks like a rabbit…”
I cracked open the water and took a huge gulp before wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “Yeah, Ava loves that one too. There’s a series of meadow animals. See the fox and the vole? Then there’s a mouse and a dragonfly. Over here are the wildflowers that go with this series.”
My mouth was getting away from me, so I shut it and turned back to another box to continue unpacking. I felt Brooks move behind me to look at more of the items on the display wall.
“That’s an old wrench,” he said like he was discovering hidden treasure. “And the wings are made out of…”
“It’s a vintage hand rake,” I said over my shoulder.
“And his neck… is this some kind of faucet or valve?”
“A vacuum breaker. It’s a kind of valve that stops backflow.” I tried concentrating on what I was doing rather than preening under Brooks’s kind words.
“Mal, this is amazing.”
I bit my lip to keep from begging for more. “Thanks.”
He finally took a seat in the chair next to mine and sipped some more of his water while I set out some of the smaller handheld items on the table.
“How did you get into this?” he asked, running the pad of his index finger along the bolt legs of a little robot. “Look at this detail.”
I didn’t answer him at first; I couldn’t. It was too… personal, too raw. But then the edge of his pinky finger brushed mine, and he whispered, “Hey. I’d really like to know more.”
I glanced up at him. His face was sincere and open, the Brooks I felt like no one else noticed for some reason. So I opened my mouth and began telling him a story I’d never told another man since leaving Homer.
“My dad ran the local junkyard,” I said, before shifting nervously in my chair. It had taken me several years to get over the shame of it, and old thought patterns died hard. “And we lived in a trailer on the property. I shared a room with my brothers, which sucked, so I stayed outside as much as I could.”
I unwrapped a collection of superhero figures to lay out. These always sold well at fairs, and the look on little kids’ faces when they began recognizing some of the components was always fun to watch. “Anyway, I’d spend hours rooting around among the crap in the junkyard. Sometimes my dad would send me to fetch a certain part from a certain car or appliance. I got to know what everything was at a pretty young age, and then I just started… putting things together. It’s embarrassing, but it was kind of like this stuff was my toy box, you know? We didn’t have money for real action figures and racetrack sets. So I made my own.”
I cleared my throat. “Kind of pathetic really,” I added.
“Kind of amazing,” Brooks said forcefully. “And creative, and inventive. These are incredible, Mal. People are going to go crazy for them tomorrow.”
The temperature under the tent must have risen because my face was hot and sweating again. “Thanks.”