“1980. I got this baby from a guy in Idaho Falls. Had to drive six hours with a buddy of mine to get it.”
“It’s red…” She reached out and touched the dash. Red was her preference, as far as vehicles went. “I drive a red, 1972 Cutlass.”
“I saw that…” Justin drawled. “They don’t even make Oldsmobiles anymore. You’ve got a rare piece of vintage art on your hands.”
“Max hated it—said it didn’t look good on me.”
Justin paused and shifted the truck into gear. “Maxy pad can go to hell. You and me? We’re going to have fun tonight, and that douche bag isn’t invited.”
The horseshoe archway at the head of the dirt road leading to Justin’s place was magnificent. It was made of dark stained wood and bore his brand right in the middle at the top. Pulling up to the house, Blythe took in the enormity of it. It was clearly custom. The log pillars and the dormers were gigantic. There was a swing on the porch, and she could see his dog waiting for him on the door mat. There was a tall, knotted, oak slab as his front entrance. It was also very masculine, just like the smell inside of his truck.
“Did you build this or did someone else?” She was enamored.
Justin put the truck in park and slid back in his seat. “I did. Of course, I had help. I’m not a machine. But the design is mine, and I did a lot of the work, too.”
What didn’t this thirty year old bachelor do? He had skills out the yin yang.
“Where is your wife, cowboy? How are you still living alone? Look at this place!”
He came around and opened her door. “There is no wife because I never fell in love with someone, let alone dated anyone long enough to make her my wife.”
It all felt a little cathartic. She remembered driving up to the palace that was supposed to be her newlywed, happily ever after. Max had slammed the car door and left her alone in the BMW without a word.
What a jerk.
She marveled at the difference between the two men. How could she have ever thought Max was it? Justin was right. He could go straight to hell.
She held his hand as he helped her down and out of the pickup.
The inside of his house was just as beautiful as the outside. They walked through the front door, then around a corner. She watched as he flipped the switch on the kitchen wall. Blythe was momentarily blinded as each canister embedded in the ceiling lit up the room. Walking over to a long, wooden island in the center of it all, Justin stretched out his arms and smiled.
“What do you think? Will this be okay?”
“Okay for what?” she giggled.
“For whipping up our dinner. I already have everything we need. You just sit here and observe, maybe hand me a utensil here and there.” He shot her a wink.
“You’re making us dinner?” She smiled and walked over to where he was standing.
“And dessert…” He waggled his eyebrows at her.
“What kind of dessert? The Mister Glaze kind?” She covered her mouth with her hand to stifle her laugh.
“What the hell’s a Mister Glaze?”
Her head swung back over her shoulders, and she burst into a fit of laughter.
“Never mind. You clearly haven’t seen the side of socials filled with people who get freaky with their baking. Don’t look it up. You’ll barf.” She shook her head but couldn’t get the cheeky grin off her face.
“Oh, I’m definitely looking it up…” His blue eyes sparked with mischief. “My only question is…how did an innocent thing like you find such a freaky side of the algorithm? Any fetishes I should know about?” He winked and she had to look away before he saw her blush.
An image of Justin shirtless and smacking bread dough entered her mind. She snapped her head back, clearing her throat. “Nope. So, what are we having?” she asked, a little too chipper.
“Well, I assume you’re not vegan, because you were practically raised by your aunt and uncle. We eat beef around here, sugar. I’m making you my famous animal burgers with dirty fries!”
“Dirty fries? What makes them so dirty?” Her brow furrowed and she looked intrigued.
“Oh, it's just a hefty dose of seasoning on top. Get your mind out of the gutter.” A sly grin spread over his face.
