Jerk… not sexy jerk. Just a plain old regular jerk.
“I’ll volunteer to put the new wheel on. It’s a little trickier.” He held the wheel with one knee as he struggled to align the wheel studs. She watched him as he wrestled with the tire, his body hard at work. She could tell he was hot; his hair slightly moist from the perspiration on his forehead.
Definitely sexy jerk; it was official. She had made up her mind.
He screwed the wheel lugs back on and lowered the jack, pulled the jack away and tightened the lugs. The job was done.
He swept his hand against his forehead as he stood up. “Got all that?”
“Yep. I think so,” she told him, thankful.
He walked over to the trunk, holding the tire and put it in the spot where the spare had been. She followed him eagerly.
“Thank you so much. You’re a good person,” she offered, truly thankful.
“Yes, so I’ve been told.” He wasn’t humble at all. “Now you get a new tire in here. I don’t want you to find yourself with another flat and no spare.”
“Yes, definitely.”
“It was a pleasure to meet you,” he told her as he grabbed his jack and tire iron.
“Yes, same here.”
Unquestionably.
It had taken the better part of fifty minutes to change the tire. She was impressed by the fact that he had taken care to teach her everything as he changed the tire.
“It’s important for a woman to be independent and know these things,” he had told her. Self-reliance lecture not withstanding, she did take a guilty pleasure in watching him work in his thin white shirt, watching his arms as he worked the tire iron and the jack. She felt only a tinge of guilt. After all, shewouldn’t have been lusting over this stranger if Robert had come to her rescue.
She guessed it wouldn’t take her much longer to get there. The drive from her house was twenty minutes. With the fifty minutes delay, she was running quite late.
She made a quick call to Ellie, leaving a message to inform her she would be late for her meeting. She had a quick moment of panic, unsure that she should have embarked on this little adventure. But the flyer had played on her emotions, encouraging her to do something good. She couldn’t resist helping someone.
When she finally got there, she turned up the street and found herself going down a lushly treed road; the large mature trees forming and arch over her giving her the illusion of passing through a tunnel.
At the end of this magnificent tunnel, she found herself at an entrance with a wrought iron gate, complete with intercom. Wow!... this little escapade was proving itself to be more exciting than she had initially anticipated. She pulled down the window and stretched her neck out.
“Yes, Bowman residence,” a woman’s voice answered.
“My name is Angela. I’m here to see Dot.”
“Yes. She’s expecting you. Drive up.”
The gates automatically opened and for some reason, she felt special. They had let her in; in her plain 2002 grey sedan. As she drove up the tree lined paved road, she could see a beautiful home emerging through the trees; a gorgeous Tudor. No, she couldn’t very well call it a house; it was more of a mansion or estate. She wasn’t sure what they called ridiculously gigantic homes these days.
She drove up the circular driveway, past the stately entrance and the four car garage which led to a sign informing her to drive around to a small parking behind the house. Beautiful landscaping adorned the house and ivy wrapped around it like a beautiful cashmere sweater on a spectacular looking woman. There was a door at the side on the house. A sign sat below the window on the door. It read “Please use this entrance”.
She rang the bell and waited. She rang again and waited. She was about to ring a third time when someone finally made their way to the door. Ellie greeted her with a smile, dressed in a simple black pant and white dress shirt; a jovial lady in her mid fifties.
“You must be Angela. I’m Ellie.” She reached for a handshake. Angela quickly obliged.
“Come in. I’ll take your jacket.”
Angela slipped off her shoes and tossed them to the side with a few other pairs while Ellie put her jacket in the coat room.
“Follow me.”
Angela followed her though the hall but was a little distracted. Beautiful artwork was displayed on the walls; renderings of doors: oils, watercolors and pen and ink. Some were small, some were large. They were all absolutely stunning. Each hung below a small light which emphasized their splendor.
