“Um, we can sit on the couch, right, Grant?”
Grant blinked at Reagan and nodded.Is this what a stroke feels like?
They sat on the couch, Grant on one end and Hudson on the other. Reagan sat between them and both men tried not to claim her as their territory. It was several minutes of uncomfortable silence as nobody knew what to say.
“Anybody hungry? We could go grab dinner,” Reagan suggested.
Grant cleared his throat. “Sure.”
Reagan sighed in relief that he’d finally spoken. “Bernie’s?”
“Sounds great.”
The three of them stood, and it got awkward again. Grant wasn’t going to be chauffeured by his sister’s boyfriend, but he’d recently traded his four-door truck for a Harley.
“I’ll drive,” Reagan spoke up.
The tension was ridiculous. Grant had to lock up, so he let the two of them go ahead of him. When Hudson put his hand on Reagan’s back as she headed down the stairs, Grant growled. Hudson apparently heard him because he dropped his hand and stayed a few paces behind her.
The drive was silent, and they were all grateful it was short. Grant went to one of the few four-top tables in the restaurant and staked his claim on one side. He knew his sister would sit opposite him, and he’d be forced to watch Hudson sit next to her.
He was right. At least the old man kept his hands to himself.
“We have to order at the counter once you know what you want,” Reagan said to Hudson. He looked over the laminated menu and then stood up. Reagan went with him since she knew what Grant liked. It was only a minute later that Hudson was back at the table without her.
“You’re a mechanic?” he said as he sat down.
“You’re her professor?” Grant bit out.
“Uh,was. We couldn’t date while she was in my class.”
“I bet.”
Grant glared at Hudson until the other man looked down at the chipped Formica table. Reagan returned with their sandwiches and set them on the table.
“Okay, I know this is weird, but can we relax a little?” Reagan finally said, completely exasperated with both men.
“Sure thing, Ray.”
Reagan frowned at Grant’s sarcastic response. “I’m serious.”
He very slowly set his sandwich down in the red basket it came in and leaned toward his sister. “I’m doing the best I can, but, fuck me running, baby girl, he’s older than both of usandhe was in a position of authority over you. What do you want from me, a parade in his honor?”
“No, of course not, but some civility wouldn’t be too much to ask!”
Reagan sat back against the plastic booth and glared at Grant. Hudson looked like he would rather be anywhere but there.
Grant looked like someone had pissed in his cornflakes. “This is as civil as I can get right this minute, but keep pushing and you’ll hear exactly what I think!”
In the shop several days later, Grant sat back on his heels as he tried not to think about that first meeting. He’d spent the next three days with Reagan, trying his damnedest to be nice and not asking what the fuck she’d been thinking. He truly wanted her to be happy, so he struggled to let her be and not judge her decision. It wasn’t easy. Hudson appeared to be polite and even well brought up, but Grant couldn’t get past the fact that he’d been her professor.
He heard the sound of an engine and looked out of the bay to the driveway of the shop. There was a fairly new car idling there, and a long leg ending in a stiletto emerged first, followed by its companion. They were nice legs, Grant had to admit. When he followed the legs up, he was met with a short skirt and a blouse that fit nicely over a good-sized rack. Long brown hair was curled over the woman’s shoulders and halfway down her back. She had on huge sunglasses that covered too much of her face for him to decide how hot she was. But her body was one to fantasize over.
She stopped just outside the doors and Grant stood to greet her. “What can I help you with?”
“I need an oil change, please.”
“Sure thing.” He snagged the clipboard off the nail on the wall and handed it to her. “Just pick your poison.”
