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“Oh please!” Erin Baker groaned, smacking the cold steering wheel with her fist.
Not the wisest move she could have made, because her hand was nearly frozen, and a sharp, almost electrifying pain shot through it, all the way to her fingertips. She turned the key again and, the same whining ‘rrr, rrr, rrr’ filled her ears. Pumping the gas pedal furiously, she held it in place...and the engine finally caught, roaring to life, but it kept wanting to cut out, so she continued bouncing her foot up and down on the gas pedal until it stopped rumbling.
Of all days for this to happen, she sighed, sitting back to wait for it to warm up. First, her boss, Matt Williams, had had to leave early in the afternoon for a meeting at the corporate office in Lansing. While he might own this particular print shop franchise, he was still required to attend weekly training sessions.
But that didn’t bother Erin. She always got a little overtime, and with Christmas less than two months away, she looked forward to extra hours. Unless the big printer broke down without warning, and she had to use the smaller, slower one to print hundreds of copies for local business owners like she’d had to do today. Add to that waiting for the repairman to show up, and the cleanup – which she and Matt usually shared – and she was tired. All she wanted to do was get home and out of the cold.
And was it ever cold! Sometimes there would be an Indian summer this time of year, but it had turned unseasonably chilly in late October...and it hadn’t warmed up since. In fact, much to her delight, several inches of snow had fallen earlier in the week.
Unfortunately Bessie, her older model car, didn’t appreciate the frigid temperatures much. Erin knew she’d have to break down and replace it someday soon, but had hoped to put it off until spring, when her savings might be better able to handle the expense.
With a sigh she knew she was going to have to call Scott to see if he had time to look at it again this weekend, maybe in return for a nice supper. He’d signed up as her co-chairman for the committees for the parade and, more importantly, the food drive for holiday baskets, so they were going to have to get together anyway. They needed to look over the schedules, and see if they could recruit more volunteers to help.
She turned on the radio while she waited, and was pleased to find the station out of Grand Rapids had started playing round-the-clock Christmas music already. Some people complained that they started way too early, and it was true that they seemed to be starting earlier every year, but Erin didn’t mind. The winter holidays were her favorites, and she could hardly wait to start decorating her tiny little abode.
She also couldn’t wait until Scott started decorating his, located across the street, and down a few houses from hers. They lived in a neighborhood where most of the old homes had been converted into everything from one-room efficiencies, to two bedroom apartments. He lived in an efficiency, and she had a one bedroom, which was funny because he had more floor space than she did. He also paid less rent, but she didn’t mind, so long as he didn’t move. Ever.
They’d been neighbors for about two years now, and she’d been in love with him for most of that time. Not that he ever seemed to notice. He treated her like he might a little sister, and look as if he were happy with the way things stood between them.
Sighing, she pulled into the small, unpaved parking area behind her apartment, and headed up the enclosed staircase to her door. Flipping on the kitchen light, she made a beeline directly to the small living room to turn the thermostat up to sixty-five. She kept it at fifty while she was working and sleeping, hoping to keep the heat bills lower. It worked, but she was seldom very warm. Except at work, and Matt kept the heat at the store almost too high. From January through March, her apartment felt like an ice box for a while after she got home every day.
Changing from her slacks and blouse into jeans and a sweater, she walked back to the kitchen, pulled the pot of chicken soup out of the refrigerator, set it on the stove, and turned the burner on low. She’d made it the day before, and there was enough to last her for a few meals. Whenever she could, she planned for plenty of leftovers, because cooking for one wasn’t that much fun. Tonight she would curl up with a stoneware bowl of steamy soup, a slice of homemade bread and butter, and one of the Christmas romance novels she kept on the third shelf of her bookcase. She would even turn the radio on to help set the mood, and maybe even light a few candles.
One thing she could say about the single life was that it was often boring. It could also be depressing, lonely and far too quiet. There weren’t as many activities to keep her busy when the temperatures dropped below fifty, and even fewer when it got below freezing.
With a sigh, she sat at the miniature kitchen table, only big enough for two, to wait until the soup was warm enough. From here, and her rocker in the living room, she could see Scott’s front window. Though the sun was setting earlier every day, he was usually home before it was completely gone, so he either had a job that was almost finished, or he’d stopped at the store. Or to pick up takeout, because one thing about Scott...he was a lousy cook.
Once in awhile she wondered if that was the main reason he liked her. She knew it wasn’t true, but sometimes it seemed like a big part of it. She was good for a couple of home-cooked meals every week, and would go all out when she needed some work done on her car. Not to mention she’d keep him supplied in cookies for a couple of weeks, too. Of course she always made sure he had plenty of goodies anyway. If she didn’t give most of what she baked away, she’d have to locate a Goodyear Blimp store to buy her clothes. Scott, on the other hand, could eat entire batches of sweets and not gain an ounce.
When he finally got home, she noticed that he had a bag from the local chicken restaurant. Being a fairly small town, he claimed that all of the fast food managers knew him on a first name basis. That didn’t surprise her at all. When someone was a regular customer, as in at least three or four times a week – every week – it was pretty easy to get to know them.
As Scott headed for the porch that ran along the entire front of the house, he glanced up at her window and waved. Erin waved back, then held her pinky and thumb up to her head like a phone. He nodded, and hurried inside. A minute later, her cell phone rang.
“Hey you,” he said cheerfully. She heard the bag rattling in the background as they talked. “What’s up?”
“Well... You’re probably going to want to wring my neck.”
“Uh-oh. Do I even want to hear this?” he asked, but there was no anger or irritation in his voice.
“Probably not. But I was just thinking beef and homemade noodles, rolls and butter, broccoli in cheese sauce, apple pie, and a double batch of peanut butter cookies might make what I have to say a little more bearable.”
“Whoa. It’s bad this time, right?”
“Hopefully no worse than it was before. She’s making almost the same noises again. It’s just cold out now, and that always makes me feel guilty when you have to be out in it.” She got up to stir the soup, which was simmering nicely now.
“After all this time, you should know that the cold doesn’t bother me much. If it looks like it’s going to take long, my boss will let me work on it in one of the bays. Why aren’t you sitting by the window?” he asked. She told him what she was doing, and then he wanted to know,
“How much is your car account up to now?” Erin heard a crunch, and knew he’d gotten chicken strips. He had the palate of a ten year old, at least when it came to restaurant meals. She told him what the balance was in her special savings account. “I’ll have a look at Bessie in a few minutes, but I wanted to let you know that one of the guys at work is selling a car. I’d like to check into it for you, if you don’t mind.”
“Scott, it’s dark out, in case you hadn’t noticed. The wind is awful. You don’t need to be out in that tonight. And yes, if it’s in my budget, I’d love to retire Bessie. I should have put her out of my misery long ago.” Except Bessie had been a graduation gift from her parents, and she’d had her nine years now. It was going to be kind of hard to get rid of her, but it had gotten to the place where she was more trouble than she was worth.
“Still got any of that last batch of bread left?”
“Yes I do.”
“Then I’ll be over in about five minutes.”
With that he hung up, and Erin grinned. If the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach, he should have been hers long ago. She glanced into the pot, and her smile grew. She could picture him taking a couple of more bites of his sorry excuse for a supper, then stashing it in the fridge so he could eat with her tonight. And she didn’t mind at all.
In fact, by the time he was knocking at her door, she had two bowls and saucers sitting on the counter. His blue eyes fastened longingly on the large pot sitting on the stove. Steam wafted in his direction, the air filled with the delectable aroma of chicken, carrots, celery and spices. She could almost see his mouth watering.
He held out his hand for her keys, told her to stay put, and hurried back down the stairs. She’d been home long enough that the engine had cooled off quite a bit, and she heard the same groaning whine a few times before it finally caught again.
“Sounds like the starter,” Scott said, sitting at the table, where Erin had set two full bowls, and a plate of bread that she’d warmed in the microwave. “But let’s see what Dylan can do for us on his car before I tear into yours.
He told her the make, model and year of the vehicle his co-worker was selling, and promised her that it had been well maintained, and ran like a charm, even though it was seven years old...and fairly high mileage.
“Why isn’t he charging more?”
“All he wants is a decent down payment for a new car, and he decided he could get more this way than by trading it in. He’s not looking to rip anyone off, just get a little more than the dealership offered him.”
“I would love it then,” Erin said, raising a spoon to her lips and blowing gently. “It’s getting to the point where it doesn’t make sense to keep putting money into Bessie.”
“Technically you reached that point before I ever even met you,” he teased, winking at her. Erin’s breath caught in her throat.
Scott wasn’t a classically handsome man. In fact, some might say he wasn’t handsome at all. Her sister, Ellen, had once compared him to the scarecrow in the Wizard of Oz, saying all he had going for him was his personality. It had been the first time since they were kids that Erin had wanted to smack her.
Like many people tended to do when someone wasn’t what the world considered stunning, her sister had judged him based on one brief glance. Ellen hadn’t yet seen those beautiful blue eyes, long dark lashes, or that smile. A smile so amazing that it made Erin’s stomach feel funny every time he flashed it her way.
The whole scarecrow thing was a crock, too. Yes, he had dark hair like the guy who played in the movie, but he was neither scrawny, nor geeky. Well, not too geeky. In addition to cars, he knew a whole lot about computers, and they often chatted on an instant messaging platform – when she remembered to turn her laptop on. That didn’t happen often, and he teased her about it pretty regularly.
“I’ll talk to him about it first thing in the morning then call and let you know,” Scott was saying. “Maybe you can test drive it after work, and then we can just take Bessie out to a field and blow her to bits.”
“Ha-ha. I was actually thinking about having her bronzed.”
“Yeah, why not? Maybe the city will let you put her in Bennett Park.”
“Now there’s an idea...” she said, appearing to give it some thought. “Actually I figured I’d donate her to that one place. You know, the organization that advertises that they fix junkers up to give to families who need them?”
“That’s a much better idea,” he said, nodding his head in satisfaction.
“And speaking of donations, I was hoping we could get together this weekend to talk about the food drives. I just heard back from the bowling alley, so that’s on. And the VFW finally said okay to the dance.”
“That means it’s time to recruit some suckers. Uh- I mean volunteers. Ouch!” he said when she reached across the table to smack his arm with the back of her fingers. He grabbed her hand, as though he were afraid she might hit him again. “How about Saturday afternoon. We can get a list together and start making calls. Then I suppose we’ll have to make more lists for decorations and businesses that will donate snack foods.”
“That’s pretty much what I was thinking. Any preference for what I should make for supper?”
“The beef and noodles menu sounds pretty good. Or was that only if I actually worked on the car?”
“Helping me find one that doesn’t need work every few weeks is worth even more to me. So if you want something fancier, just say the word.”
“You should know by now, I’m not a real fancy kind of guy.”
“Well I know you’re not the kind of guy to wear frilly party dresses. But as for food...” She grinned, hoping that would keep him from noticing how her pulse was racing, because he still held her hand. As far as she was concerned, he could hold it all night.
“You haven’t seen my closet,” he said, winking again as he slowly released her, picking up his spoon instead.
“Then maybe we can go to the dance as the Olsen twins.”
“Your hair and eyes might match mine pretty close, but you’re too short to be my twin.”
“My hair is a little longer, too. I’d have to have it all chopped off.”
“Don’t you dare. And forget the twins’ idea. I’m not going out in public in a dress.”
“But you’d wear one in private?”
“Every day, and twice on Sunday.”
“You’re nuts.”
“I think it’s kind of a prerequisite for living so close to you.”
The banter continued as they ate, Scott refilling his bowl twice more. He even managed to polish off a thick slice of bread to go with each one. Erin always wondered where he put it, because there wasn’t an ounce of fat on that hard, toned body of his.
When it seemed he’d finally had his fill, he helped her by washing their few dishes, even though she’d protested that he didn’t have to bother. It would only take her a few minutes.
But Scott was like that. Always ready to help, always there when she needed him...and even when she didn’t. Things like dishes, which she didn’t mind doing herself. She wouldn’t complain though, because it meant she could enjoy his company for a while longer.
“Well, I suppose I should head home, get my shower out of the way, and maybe watch a little television,” he said with a sigh, after she’d put the last piece of silverware back in the drawer. “What are you doing tonight?”
“Just some reading, I guess.”
“Well, see if Bessie starts before I head to work,” he said, slipping into his jacket. “I can run over and give you a jump if it doesn’t. I’ll see if we can arrange to meet Dylan after you get out of work to check the car.”
“All right. Thank you, Scott. I hope you know how much I appreciate you,” she said, standing on her toes to kiss his cheek.
“I know. And you’re welcome,” he said, flushing a little, as he gave her a quick hug. “I’ll call you after I talk to Dylan.”
~~~~~
“I HOPE YOU KNOW HOW much I appreciate you.”
Scott Sinclair sat in his an old, rather saggy recliner, with nothing but his television to illuminate the room. But he wasn’t looking at the sitcom droning on in the background. No, he was gazing out his window.
When Erin’s lights were on, he could watch her as she sat in her rocker, her nose buried in one of her many romance novels. Nearly every evening he watched her sit there, reading until bedtime. If his ceiling light was on, she could see him, and sometimes she’d wave at him when she looked up to have a sip of coffee or water. But nights like tonight, he just wanted to see her.
He’d had a terrible crush on her since the moment he’d moved into the apartment he’d only planned to rent for a few months. Just until he renovated the house his grandparents had given him before they moved to Florida. His plans had changed, though, the morning he’d observed her getting into that piece of junk she called a car. It had been early on a Saturday morning, one of the first days of spring, not hot by any means, but comfortable enough that he’d had his windows open to let some fresh air in. Had they been closed, he wouldn’t have heard the engine try...and fail...to start.
Scott had never been more grateful to work on a car as he had hers that day. And from that moment on, when all he’d had to do was make a simple adjustment on the carburetor, their friendship had grown. Now he could easily say that she was the best friend he’d ever had. Except the more he got to know her, the more he wished...
He shook his head, and tried to get interested in the craziness playing out on his big screen television, but it was a waste of time. The vision she made sitting there, wrapped in a fuzzy white blanket, her long dark hair spread out around it, kept bringing his attention back to her. Just knowing she was there, a stones throw away, filled him with a longing so intense that he ached with it. If only she weren’t so beautiful... Or if he’d been blessed with better looks, things might be different.
Never one to yearn for the impossible, he couldn’t help it where Erin was concerned. She was everything he’d ever dreamed of, and sometimes he thought she might like him as more than a friend, but he’d never had the guts to do anything about it. Like tonight at the table. He’d wanted to bring her hand to his lips because of the way she’d looked at him. He just wasn’t sure whether he was seeing what was actually there – or only what he longed to see.
Well, they’d be spending a lot of time together over the next few weeks because of the fundraisers. Maybe it was time to start testing the waters a little bit.
~~~~~
“I love it!” Erin exclaimed, the excitement in her voice clear, as they flew down the freeway.
Scott couldn’t help grinning at her enthusiasm. The Grand Am was seven years old, but Dylan had treated it like his baby. He’d changed the oil every few months, whether it needed it or not, had rebuilt the engine a couple of years ago, and fixed every scratch and ding so that it ran and looked like new. He knew silver wouldn’t have been Erin’s first choice for a color, but it didn’t seem to bother her at all. In fact, she was so excited she reminded him of a kid on Christmas morning.
“I kind of thought you might. Want to head back, and we’ll tell him you’ll take it?”
“Yes! Do you think he wants cash, or will he take a check? Because if he wants cash, I can’t get it until tomorrow.”
“If I trust you, and I do, he’ll take a check.”
“Oh I can’t wait,” she said reverently, actually caressing the dashboard when they came to a stop at the end of the off ramp. Scott threw his head back and laughed. She scowled at him, before her lips turned up in a grin. “Stop it. You’d love it, too, if you’d been driving Bessie for almost ten years.”
“Good point.”
“I wonder if Matt will let me off early tomorrow so I can go to the Secretary of State office. I’m going to need to get the title changed, and the plates and insurance transferred.”
“Matt would eat off the floor if you asked him to.” Matt had been a friend of her brother’s since grade school and, from all appearances, had been in half in love with Erin ever since. At least in Scott’s opinion. “I’ll see if I can get the afternoon off, too. That way you can just donate the car before we leave Lansing.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Erin protested, pulling into Dylan’s driveway.
“Hey, I like playing hooky sometimes, too,” he admitted, and she grinned at him again.
“Okay. It’s a date then. Well, if Matt will let me take the afternoon off.”
“Trust me, he will.”
Dylan gladly took the check, then smiled when Erin turned back to admire her new car. He raised his brows at Scott, as though to make sure this was what he really wanted, and Scott nodded. He had more than enough in his savings account to cover the couple thousand it would cost him, and it was money well spent in his opinion. He worried every time she got behind the wheel of the sixteen year old piece of crap she’d been driving.