Until Arden

“Better you than me.” Hoping he doesn’t need my help again, I retreat to the patio and watch Holden play with his blocks. He hums to himself while stacking the larger blocks, then he knocks him over and starts again.

As the sun sinks below the horizon, Dash once again straightens, pulling a metal part out from around the engine. It’s about the size of a small space heater. Don’t tell me that little thing is worth over a hundred dollars.

He places it on the ground next to a white box, then straightens, stretching his arms over his head and arching his back. His shirt rides up, revealing patches of ink along his sides that accentuate his muscular abs.

My skin heats. I must have lost my mind. Don’t be stupid. I am not falling for him. Not now. Not ever. I concentrate on Holden. Even if I couldn’t protect myself, I have him to protect now, and I can’t do that if I’m distracted by some man who may or may not even be around next year. It doesn’t matter how deep the ache of loneliness goes, I can’t take that chance.

“You two don’t have to stay out here,” Dash says.

“It’s easier for Holden to run down his energy out here.” I refuse to look up at Dash, so I wait for him to go back to work.

Eventually, Holden gets bored with his blocks and takes to running around the fence line, stopping from time to time to look at plants and who knows what else on the ground. I stretch out my legs, crossing them at the ankles, and lean back against the large concrete planter on the corner of the patio.

Lost in thought, I jump when I hear Dash curse, then he looks at me, wide-eyed, and quickly apologizes.

I snort. “I’ve said far worse. On a daily basis.”

He crouches next to the front tire and digs something out from under the car. Straightening, he holds a large bolt in his hand, then groans lifting his face skyward.

“Is this about the time the nostalgia runs out?” I ask.

Dash shakes his head and sets back to work, grunting and twisting as he leans over the fender with his entire arm stretched between the front of the car and the engine. “Nah, that happened a long time ago. I can’t seem to get the bolt lined up with the holes right and I can’t see to know what the problem is.”

“You have that problem often?”

Dash looks at me with a dead stare, and I hear something metallic ping against the driveway. “Um...”

“Sorry.” I snort while trying to speak and my cheeks flame. “I um... feel free to forget I said that.”

“Nah, that wasn’t in the agreement.”

I try to give him my best glower but seeing the look on his face makes that impossible. “I was not making whatever reference you think I was making.”

A lie, and I know it. Damn it, Arden. Get it together.

“Right,” Dash says, once again fishing the bolt out from under the car. “I’m going to double my fee for that one.”

“Well, as I recall double of nothing, is still nothing, so that’s still within my budget.” God, am I really paying him nothing for all of this. It doesn’t matter how many times he says he doesn’t expect me to pay him back, I’m still going to feel indebted.

Dash’s chuckle is deep and resonates in the small space between us, unnerving me more than a laugh coming from a stranger ever could.

Holden runs and squeals, chasing after something in the grass. Then, he stops and looks up at Dash. “Will you fix my car?”

“What happened to it?” Dash asks.

Holden shrugs, digging the tip of his shoe into the ground. “The wheel fell off.”

As it does on a near-daily basis. I have a feeling he just wants to be the center of attention.

“Well, how about I finish Mommy’s car, and then I’ll take a look at it?”

Holden pouts for a moment, then he takes off again, following a trail in the grass, and disappears around the other side of the house. I know he can’t get far because there’s a fence that connects the house to the perimeter fence, dividing up the front and back yards.

Dash glances at his watch, then returns to work.

Twenty minutes later, the sun has disappeared, and the air has cooled to a more comfortable temperature.

“Nearly done,” Dash says, wiping his hands on his pants. “If you could help me get the serpentine belt back in place, you should have a working car again.”

I check on Holden once more before joining Dash and leaning over the fender.

“This might be a little more difficult, just try to get it centered on the wheel.” He lifts the handle of the wrench, and I push down on the belt, trying to get it low enough to slip into place, but by the time I get one side on, the other slips off.

“Ugh,” I groan, standing on my tiptoes, trying to get enough leverage to get it in place. Little by little it cooperates. My toes slip against the concrete, and I try to readjust without losing my progress. It doesn’t help that Dash is standing above me, chuckling.

Finally, the belt stretches over the wheel, and I collapse against the fender. “I don’t understand how anyone can enjoy working on cars.”

“Well, once everything works again, the frustration usually fades. Why don’t you try to turn ‘er over?”

A nervous feeling settles in my stomach as I slide into the driver’s seat and stare down at the key in my hand. Please.

I slip the key into the ignition and hold my breath when I turn it. The engine starts, and I squeal. Then, I glance to my left and see Holden running at full speed toward me. His foot catches on the edge of the concrete and my heart sticks in my throat.