“My brothers have filled me in on what they know. I guess it’s hard for us to be sure what happened. We haven’t asked Dad because we don’t want to cause any issues between him and your mom or between you and him. There’s already been too much of that.”
“There has,” she says softly. “It’s hard for me to look around at the life you all live and not resent the fact that some of that should have been for my family and me.”
“I get that,” I say. “But me and my brothers were kids when that happened. So were you. I guess I’m saying that we don’t need to carry on the bad blood, and I’m sorry for my part.”
She smiles, but I can sense something still lingers behind it. Maybe it always will. But at least we’ve made peace. I feel better about that.
It takes Damien forty minutes to arrive with his big truck. He shakes my hand, pumping my arm like he’s trying to work out if it’s loose. Dressed in bright blue overalls with the arms tied at the waist and a gray shirt, he’s got enough grease up his fingernails to lubricate an entire engine. His beard seems thicker and longer too. “You interviewing for a lumberjack position?” I ask him.
He snorts. “There’s been too much going on to find time for manscaping.”
Cora laughs in a cheeky way that makes me wonder if she’s thinking about where else he might need to trim.
“What do you think?”
Bent over the engine, he tinkers with a few things. “Try now,” he says.
Cora dashes to get in the driver’s seat and turns the key. The car sputters to life. “Oh my God, you did it,” she gasps through the window.
“What can I say?” Damien says with a lopsided grin. “I have magic hands.” He holds them up with palms facing Cora and waves them like jazz hands.
“You do,” she grins.
I clap him on the shoulder in appreciation. “Is there anything that the car needs?” I ask.
“Yeah,” Damien nods. “A good service and an engine clean.” He starts circling the vehicle. “A couple of the tires look worn too.”
Cora’s already sliding out of the seat, her face dropping with concern.
“Let’s take it in now,” I say. “I don’t want Cora driving around in something unsafe.”
“But…” she starts.
“It’s okay,” I say. “Damien will sort it out. I can take you where you need to go, and then we’ll collect your car later.”
“But I don’t have the money…” she says, and this time I put up my hand.
“You don’t need to worry about that,” I say. “I’m going to sort everything out with Damien, and when you get your first big order from that department store, you can take me out for a fancy dinner.”
“I can’t…”
“You can,” I say. “Just think of it as an apology if that makes it easier to digest.”
“What am I going to need to do for my side of the apology?” Cora says.
I can think of a few things I’d love her to do. Some involving her mouth. Some involving the tight wet place between her legs, but I keep my thoughts to myself. We’re just about on speaking terms. I’m not going to risk messing that up, no matter how much I might want more.
“Bake Damien a chocolate cake. He has a thing for sweet baked goods.”
“I like that idea,” Damien says, wiping his hands on a rag he has hanging from his pocket.
“Seriously?” Cora asks. As amusement passes over her expression, her eyes linger on mine. Her tongue moistens the middle of her lip as though she’s thinking about tasting something delicious. I think the chocolate cake is on her mind, but could she be thinking along the same lines as me? I’ve always prided myself on having an excellent sense of when a woman is interested in me, but Cora’s signals aren’t obvious. Maybe I’m reading too much into this because it’s what I want. Just because I’ve jumped five paces ahead doesn’t mean Cora has to.
“I’m never more serious than when I’m talking about cake,” Damien laughs, jolting me back to the present.
And that’s how we end up driving to a car repair shop with Cora’s first attempt at baking clutched proudly in her hands. And how I end up realizing wanting more with Cora is not just about sex.
16
RIVER
“We’re almost there,” Cora says, craning to look out the window at the passing houses. We’ve been driving for a while, and my legs are cramping up from lack of use. The thought of getting out and stretching has me flexing my fingers in anticipation.
“What does the house look like?” Tobias asks. He’s driving and relying on Cora for directions.
“It’s a really beautiful white wooden house with a wraparound porch. Think of a place big enough to house twelve adults.