“Tease!” I yell out to her as she stalks toward her shop door with her hips swaying, giving me the best show.
“You love it,” she calls out.
I sit there for a moment, watching her as she unlocks the door. I don’t pull away until she walks inside and flips on the lights. All I can do is shake my head. The girl is impossible, and I love that about her. She’s not easy, and she sure as hell keeps me on my toes.
Before I have a chance to pull away from the curb, I get a text.
Ma: Can you drop by? My sink is leaking.
It’s like she has ESP and knows exactly when I’m nearby.
Me: On my way.
There is no need to waste time and put off fixing her sink. I have a few hours to kill, and since the girls aren’t waiting for me, I have more free time on my hands than I know what to do with.
Ma is waiting for me on her front porch when I pull up. She is sitting on the top step, coffee cup in hand, staring out across the neighborhood.
“How was your first night without the girls?” Ma asks as I stride up the walkway to her house.
“Interesting.”
She sits a little straighter. “Do tell.”
I grab her coffee cup from her hands and take a sip as I sit down next to her. “We broke down partway back.”
“Oh dear,” she whispers, snatching the mug from my grip. “There’s a fresh pot inside.”
I give her a smile, loving my ma. She’s never liked to share, especially her coffee. Then there is the germ thing. Even though we are her children, she’s always claimed we are dirtier than most people solely because we’re boys.
“Your cup is always better.”
“Two spoons of sugar and a splash of cream. It’s not magic, baby.”
“It’s always more delicious when you make it.”
She groans and hands her coffee over to me. “I’ll make a fresh cup.”
I knew she’d give it over. Not because she doesn’t want me to make my own, but because I already took a sip and she doesn’t want my cooties. I love my ma, but she is a bit of a germaphobe and has been as far back as I can remember.
“Were you stuck in the truck all night?”
“No. We found a B&B nearby, and Thumper brought me the part this morning.”
“You should really get a newer car. Something that you can easily get the parts for when you need them.”
“Ma.”
“Vintage doesn’t mean better. You need something reliable. And that old thing—” she points at the black Scout “—is not.” She bumps me with her shoulder. “So…”
“So,” I say before taking another sip of the coffee.
“How was your night?”
I turn my head, finding her hopeful expression. “Ma.”
“What?” she asks innocently. “Did you get separate rooms?”
I shake my head. “They only had one room.”
