The Worst Best Friend: A Small Town Romance

And I hope the slow march to Thanksgiving moves at a crawl. These breathless evenings in the dying golden light with her are something I can cling to. Something to keep me warm through the next long winter of my life long after she’s a distant, nagging memory.

A sharp clatter next to my shoe shakes me back to reality.

I fumble the screwdriver and yank myself away from her to pick it up.

Get your shit together, a voice in my head warns. Next thing you know, you’ll be screwing up simple brake jobs.

I pivot, cupping the sides of her face with both hands, and leave a lingering kiss on her face.

As I end it, I ask, “Is that what had you dreaming?”

“Yes.” She’s looking up at me with shimmering eyes and a beaming smile like the sun. “I hope this means you see me as more than Marty’s bratty sister.”

My eyebrows lift.

“Truth be told, I’ve always imagined you as more,” I admit.

“Oh? Even when I was tagging along and pestering you guys to death?”

“Nah, see, you’re the one caught up on the tagalong aspect. I remember inviting you to join us.”

It’s true. I always invited her because I didn’t want her sitting home alone, dreamy-eyed and depressed about her dead folks.

Her face heats and she chews her lip thoughtfully.

“You always did offer, even when it annoyed Marty...why?”

We lock eyes. I sense another question brewing in her balmy gaze.

Why were you so kind until you broke your promise? Why didn’t you write?

My gut churns.

I have to stall her out, to kill those questions before they ever find their way to her tongue.

If she knew how sick I was—how soul-sick I still am—would she want to warm my bed?

Without letting this little Q&A get too revealing, I touch the tip of her nose with my finger.

“Because. You would have caused Thelma and Doug plenty of trouble if I left you home alone stewing,” I tell her.

She laughs mightily.

“I mean...that might’ve happened a time or two,” she agrees.

“Or ten or twenty.” I step back and give her delectable ass a crisp smack that makes her stiffen and throw a grin back over her shoulder. “Go find something to stay busy so I can finish this job.”

It’s basically done, but I need the distance.

“Fiiine,” she groans. “I’ll go see if I can find that cat who has Faye so worried. It hasn’t eaten any of the food I left out yet and I know she’ll wonder if we saw it.”

“Sounds good.” I give her a quick parting kiss and chuckle to myself as she walks away, tossing me one last longing look.

It’s not frigging fair.

This crushing weight squeezes my chest, wishing that I could be more of what she needs, but my life’s rooted here. More than ever now that I’m responsible for keeping half the town’s vehicles running, not to mention those monster truck rallies that are becoming a real draw for entertainment.

Besides keeping people happy, they raise money like gangbusters for the programs I care about when we don’t have a stray pig shutting everything down.