Page 38 of The Sharpest Edges

They told her to stick it out because he was busy and none of that meant he didn’t like her. He was always easy to be around when they were together, so clearly they had to be right. She accepted that all men must be this way. Low attention spans, hard to get a hold of, missing you one moment, and too busyto call the next.

She adjusted her expectations and became the woman she thought he wanted. Someone easygoing and forgiving of what she previously thought of as his faults.

And look how well that worked out.

She has no doubt where she stands with Dean because he makes no attempt to hide it.

He sends her text flowers every morning that she finds waiting on her phone. It’s the first thing she sees when she wakes up, the first thing to make her smile. What you see is what you get with Dean. There are no games, no attempts to blow cold after being hot for this long and she’s so damn grateful for that because she couldn’t handle someone that didn’t play by such open rules. She’s already done an excellent job of confusing herself without any help from him, after all.

He’ll be at her house today to work on the car. She’s changed underwear twice already and he won’t even be here for another hour. Thoughts of him turn x-rated, no matter how uncertain she is about her ability to follow through on them. They’ve known each other for months, been on two actual dates, if the same day he got out of prison counts, and they’ll have easy access to her bedroom. She assumes expectations come with this visit, not that he’s said anything to make her feel that way. He hasn’t.

The only man she’s been with fucked her for the first time in the kitchen of his apartment on their third date and she didn’t have much choice in the matter.

‘Needed you so damn bad. Couldn’t wait any longer. You’re gonna be my wife one day anyway, right?’He said into her ear while she was bent over the counter, a fresh bite mark at the juncture of her neck and pain flaring between her legs.

Then he slapped her on the ass and told her to clean herself up.

She wishes she left then when it wasn’t too late, but she was young and naive and he convinced her that passion drove him to it. Convinced her it was normal, expected, that she must have enjoyed it too. This must be what love is, she thought, and really, she didn’t have anyone else to compare him to.

It didn’t take long to figure out that John never loved her, but by then she was trapped in an abusive marriage with a child on the way.

Guilt for entertaining the idea that Dean could have anything in common with her dead ex-husband floods her nerves. He is different, she reminds herself. She feels safe with him. She wants him. He would be gentle with her, she’s certain of that, and there is a reason she’s wet every time she imagines seeing him again. Delaying this isn’t doing her any favors.

If he tries, she’ll let him. She won’t flinch or pull away, she won’t see another man’s face above her and freeze.

Some wine might help, she thinks. Maybe she could get out of her head for long enough to enjoy it if she’s half wasted.

If you need to get drunk to have sex with him, that’s a you problem, something whispers in a self-deprecating voice in the back of her mind.

“Shut the fuck up,” she says into her empty bedroom, staring down at her outfit choices.

Getting past the first time is all she needs to function like a normal human who doesn’t require any liquid courage to sleep with the man she has such strong feelings for.

* **

Dean is stuffed under her car, grunting here and there while she hands him relevant tools.

He didn’t waste much time getting under there once he arrived, eager to get to work and prove that he could fix what everyone else only made worse. Without him, she’s not sure it’ll ever run again, though that might not be a bad thing either. It’s cursed anyway. Maybe it’s better off stuck in her driveway for good.

“Can ya hand me that smaller one?” he says, his voice muffled beneath the car. She grabs a small wrench and places it into his waiting hand. “Thanks. I’d swear they drove a screwdriver right through this thing. Lotta shady places out there but this is bold.”

“They have a good Google rating, but they’re about to get a one-star review soon. This isn’t the first time I’ve taken it in only to think it was fixed and then find out later it’s worse.”

“You ain’t gotta worry ‘bout that no more. I’ll look after it for you,” he says, matter-of-factly like it’s the most natural response until he seems to realize the implication. “I mean, if you want me to. If you’re happy with it when I’m done. Or I can give you some referrals.”

Ava smiles at his rushed explanation. He can’t see her, and she’s free to let that giddiness flush over her. “I’m quite sure I’ll be happy with your work. It can only get better from here.”

She shouldn’t have said that because the moment she stops talking, there’s a rustling below followed by screeching, like metal dragging against metal, and then a loud curse.

“Fuckin’….what the….goddammit.” Dean drags his body out from under her car, cursing like a sailor and covered in oil.

It’s stuck in his hair, penetrating those soft-looking strands to seep in deep against his scalp and drip down his neck andunder his shirt.

“Oh…” Her hand covers her mouth, eyes wide as saucers. “What happened?”

He sighs, having come to terms with his current state, leaning casually up against her car, arms crossed and covered in oil. “So the hole was up pretty high. Plenty of oil left. Went to remove the whole thing and the screws just sorta failed all at once. They didn’t even secure the pan properly. I saw ‘em jiggle before it fell but it was too late.”

“I’m so sorry, I—”

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