He manages it, although by the time I’ve joined him with the rest of my bags, there’s no room left to swing a cat. It’s not lost on me that there had, until recently, been plenty of cats on hand to swing.
Next to me, Tyler is silent as he takes everything in. I’m a little gob smacked myself. If I’d thought the place looked good yesterday with most of the windows covered, now it’s a sight to behold.
Light floods the space thanks to all the windows and a couple of skylights. There’s no missing why Airstreams hold a special place in America’s heart. The silence lengthens to the point it overwhelms me, and I blurt out the first thing that comes into my head.
“It’s not much, but it’s home.” I’d normally follow this up by holding my arms out to the side, only there wasn’t enough room. At least not without being squashed up against Tyler.
Awkward doesn’t explain how I am to find myself jammed in here with a gorgeous man like this. Interestingly, he appears completely at ease, his stance relaxed, a soft smile playing on his lips.
“I’ve gotta say, it’s a hell of an improvement on the main house.” He then surprises me by opening a small panel in the wall next to the door. Inside there’s a jumble of fuses and other bits and pieces. I wouldn’t have a clue what they’re all for, yet Tyler seems familiar with them.
“The wiring looks to be in good working order, so I’m guessing whoever owned the main house must have lived out here.” Safe in the knowledge he won’t risk electrocution, he flicks the light switch, with both of us surprised to find the lights work.
He turns them back off; he turns them on again. “I thought you said the utility company wasn’t coming until later today.”
“I did, they did.” A quick look at my watch confirms it is just after ten-thirty. There wasn’t a chance this would happen in the city, with it more likely they’d be days late turning up rather than early.
“Hmmm, I wonder?”
Without telling me what he’s wondering about, Tyler takes a step in my direction. Even with the windows uncovered and the lights on, I’m in the dark until he reaches out and taps on the accordion door to the small bathroom.
“I’ll have a quick look at the plumbing while I’m here, if that’s okay with you?”
Because of the narrow confines of the Airstream, the only way he can do that is by inching past me, something I’m not sure I’m comfortable with. This doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like him up close and personal, but that I want to keep my attraction to him to myself.
This has me backing up to the point I trip over the end of a small rag rug in the aisle, landing on the double bed with a hard bump. I’m doing my best to right myself when Tyler breaks into a broad grin, which then escalates to booming laughter.
It’s infectious with me soon joining in. Better this than wallowing around on the world’s hardest bed feeling sorry for myself.
I get even when I watch Tyler attempting to enter the small bathroom. Short of some WD40 and a pry bar, I doubt it’s possible. And if he were to succeed, it’d be more than likely he couldn’t get out again.
With his bottom half sticking out of the small bathroom, I’m free to drool as much as I want. “Now there’s a bathroom fitting I could get on board with.”
I’m unaware of having said this aloud until I hear a spluttered, “Excuse me?” A second later and he’s turned off the taps, and has backed into the narrow aisle all while looking at me. His eyebrow quirked.
“Oh, ah, I was just saying the bathroom fittings, ah, probably aren’t, ah, up to code.” As garbled as my response has been, it takes a second for his brow to clear, as he does his best to make sense of my ramblings.
Obviously deciding he must have misheard me; he runs his fingers through his hair. “It should be okay for now.” He slides the accordion door shut, clipping it in place. “Before that pipe in the kitchen blew on me, I was about to head down to Tremaine Hardware to order a few things. Do you want to come with me and check out some fixtures and fittings for the bathrooms and kitchen?”
He looks briefly at my large suitcase jammed down next to the dinette. “Unless you want to unpack first? If you do, I can wait for you.”
Unpack my case in front of a man like this? Hell no. While my granny underwear might be comfortable, I don’t want it seen by anyone like Tyler. He wouldn’t know this change in underwear style was in response to my divorce being made final.
No longer did I have to wear the racy lingerie Mitchell preferred.
No longer did I need to lure my husband into the bedroom.
No longer did I worry about conceiving. That ship, ah crib, had sailed.
As casual as this last thought has been, there’s nothing I can do to stop the hitch in my breathing and the constriction in my throat.
It therefore takes every ounce of concentration for me to say, “That’s okay. I can unpack this evening.”
The drive into town would have been silent, if not for the volume of the country music Tyler had insisted that we listen to. I will be the first to admit that I’m not a fan of country music, but neither could I tell him to turn it off when I saw the joy as he sang along.
It’s a far cry from the jazz Mitchell is a fan of. Tyler’s truck is also a far cry from Mitchell’s Mercedes coupe. And yet, as we pull into the parking lot at the biggest hardware store in town, I wouldn’t change a thing.
TYLER
