Motorhead Page 3

  After a minute, she reads his reply and makes an ‘O’ of mirthful surprise with her mouth. “Oh, yeah! They talked about you, better believe it!” She looks at me with sparkling eyes. “Rob says he warned his brother who your family is.” She looks at Amanda. “We were just talking about this, kind of, when we were walking the dogs.”

  “Aww, crap! See?” I say, dismayed. “I was right!” I look at Amanda mournfully. “A family full of beefy motorheads is intimidating as hell. Even for a guy like Mark, who’s…well, a beefy motorhead himself!” The reality of my own words starts to sink in. “Actually… for Mark especially, given that my family has the biggest auto supply firm in Ohio. He’ll have to buy from us, if he isn’t already.”

  “Why? Can’t he get parts elsewhere?” Amanda asks.

  “After-market stuff, maybe. But we have statewide, exclusive distribution for a lot of high-end parts. Buying out of state is inconvenient and expensive.”

  “Maybe that’ll be a bonus for him, then. Dating a girl with connections.”

  “No way,” Brenda says absently, looking down at her phone. “Mark’s not like that. He’s too stubborn. He won’t accept charity. He works for what he wants.”

  “That’s good I guess,” I say, “but I don’t know why we’re even talking about this. I don’t know if he likes me. Maybe he thinks I’m too young for him. His last girlfriend was older, more mature. Maybe he’s not even attracted to me! Maybe I’m not cute enough for him.”

  “Marie,” Brenda says again, snorting and waggling her phone at me. “Don’t bag your face just yet.”

  “Huh?”

  “Rob just told me that Mark thinks you’re super-hot. And that nothing’s gonna stop him from asking you out.”

  Chapter Three

  Mark

  “She’s a Sinclair? So what?” I’m baffled. “What the fuck’s the problem?”

  “So…her father’s Carson Sinclair. You know, of Sinclair’s Auto Supply? The biggest auto parts dealer in the state, remember? Dour, grumpy dude? Doesn’t take any bullshit. You don’t want to piss him off.”

  “I don’t? I mean, I don’t want to piss anyone off, but what’s that got to do with Marie? Do I need to ask his permission to date her?”

  “No, Meathead, but you might want to step carefully. She’s the only girl out of five or six brothers. A lot of them work there, too. I’m just sayin’. You need this company for your business, don’t you?”

  “Yes, but it’s way too early to be worrying about that. Come on, give it a rest, Slick.”

  Turning into Mom’s street, I pull up in front of the house.

  But Rob doesn’t move to get out of the truck.

  “I think you should consider how her family might view you. What if they think you’re dating their only daughter because of her family’s money?”

  Groan! This Big Brother stuff’s getting old now. “Robert. Since when do I care what people think? Look, I have an account with Sinclair’s. One of the dudes, Hamish, came out to the shop and set me up. We got along like a house on fire. He’s a gym rat like us, we talked about that as much as we did about auto business. I didn’t even know he had a sister.”

  I’m trying not to become irritated now, with limited success.

  “Yeah, well, they’re all gym rats like us, doesn’t mean they’re gonna like you any better.” He heaves a sigh and shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “Look, Mark, I don’t care who you like or who you want to date. I’m just suggesting you consider all the facts, out of brotherly concern. Take it or leave it, alright?”

  Now he’s irritated, too.

  “But you’re making these people sound medieval,” I say. “I mean, do they lock her up at night or something? She has tattoos, for Chrissakes. She drives a muscle car that she said they bought for her and helped her restore. She’s not exactly chained up in the basement.”

  “I’m just trying to give you fair warning about getting into a… well, a thing with someone in Marie’s situation. You need what her family is selling to get your shop off the ground. You need their goodwill! They can hurt you, or help you. That’s all I’m trying to get through your thick skull, for fucks sakes.”

  Jesus! First, the loan thing, now this. As if I asked for his help or advice!

  Gritting my teeth, I say, “How about you drop the Big Brother shit now? Look, all I know is, I met a super-hot girl tonight and I’m interested. If I want to ask her out, nothing’s gonna stop me. Not her father, not her family, not you…nothing.”

  He rolls his eyes but my glare warns him it’s not open for discussion anymore. I open my door and jump out.

  Walking up to Mom’s door, he says, “You’re too stubborn for your own good, Markus. But, look. I’m sorry I said anything. Let’s just have a nice night with Mom, okay?”

  I take a deep breath and let it out. “Thank you. That’s what I signed up for in the first place.”

  And we do exactly that; have a nice night with Mom. She did up a roast beef with mashed potatoes and all the trimmings for us. The food’s delicious, and being around our mom and good food makes both me and Rob mellow out.

  After dinner, Rob and I do some yard work for Mom. Trimming the shrubs, a bit of weeding and raking. Mom’s getting on in years, but with our help, she’ll be able to stay in her home–our childhood home–for as long as possible.

  There’s something good about being able to come “home” once in a while. And Mom’s happy, surrounded by familiar things, and people, and neighbors who look out for her.

  While we work, my mind keeps returning to Marie. That smile. Those track pants showing off that muscular ass, so round and firm! I picture it, and imagine what it’d feel like to squeeze those high, strong buttocks, preferably as she was sitting on top of me, naked…aaaand, shit, now my dick’s waking up in my pants.

  Oops.

  After the chores are done, we watch Rogue One, the new Star Wars movie. It’s epic but still, I can’t stay focused on it.

  My mind keeps showing me flashes of Marie.

  I wonder what her nipples are like. Are they tiny and round like pea-gravel, or long, thick ones that look like pencil erasers when they’re hard? What color are they? Are they rosy red or pale pink or maybe, honey-brown, like some girls have? They’re all so yummy, I can’t decide which ones I like best.

  But I already know that whatever Marie’s got, I’d like ‘em just fine.

  And that smile…I see it beaming up at me; and somehow that images morphs into an image of those muscular legs wrapped around my waist while my cock…dammit! There I go again.

  I shift in my position on the couch, then grab a throw pillow and put it on my lap. It takes concerted effort to focus on the movie again. It’s a great movie, but when it’s this hard to concentrate, time seems to crawl by.

  Finally, the movie’s over and we watch the news. I hear a soft snore and look over at Rob and Mom. Rob’s slouched in his chair, his head resting on his hand, but his eyes are open and he’s watching the TV.

  Mom’s head has lolled back against the cushions, her mouth open, fast asleep. “Pssst,” I say, and lift my chin towards her for Rob to take a look.

  “Alright, it’s time to get going,” he says. “Lemme text Brenda and see if the coast is clear.”

  He texts back and forth with Bren for a few minutes before standing up and putting his phone in his pocket. “We’re good to go.”

  I wake Mom up. “Hey, Ma? You fell asleep.”

  She lets out a sleepy snort and sits up. “Time izzit?”

  “It’s almost twelve thirty. We’re gonna get going.”

  “Okay, guys.”

  She walks us to the door. “This was fun, we’ll do it again soon. Nite nite, drive safe.”

  We say our goodbyes and head out to the truck. The ride back to Rob’s place is peaceful, the little tiff we had earlier, forgotten.

  I pull into his driveway and he gets out of the truck. “Alright. Have
a good night,” he says, and makes as if to shut the door.

  Then he stops, leans back into the cab and says, “Oh, by the way. I debated not telling you this, but…Marie’s staying the night now. She wants you to come in for coffee.” He grins at me, shuts the door and makes a run for the house.

  In a flash, I’m out of the truck and racing after him. Catching up, I shove him playfully off the driveway onto the lawn, trying to knock him off balance. He almost goes down, but he recovers and shoves me back.

  Laughing, we wrestle and play-fight all the way up to the house.

  Chapter Four

  Marie

  I’m outside by the bonfire, curled up in a canvas chair with my feet tucked under me. After giving me a good ribbing about Mark, laced with earnest advice on how to be ladylike and not loud, gross and smelly like I usually am, Amanda and Brenda went into the house to get ready for bed, leaving me to sit out here by myself and wait to see if Mark really is coming in to talk to me.

  Shit! This is so nerve-wracking! I know I have a rep as a ballsy chick and all, but the truth is, I’m not especially experienced ––or confident––with dating.

  It’s not just because of my dad or my brothers, either.

  It’s because of me, too.

  Even though, most days, I’m horny as hell… I’m also picky as hell.

  And shy, although I do my best to hide that, believe me.

  Furthermore, I’m not attracted to skinny, passive men. It’s not that I want some super-hot Bad Boy necessarily. I’ve seen plenty of friends get burned by a good-looking but spoiled man-child, too full of himself to care about anyone else.

  I want a guy who takes care of himself, but who isn’t afraid to get dirty. Maybe the men in my family drive me nuts sometimes but, for good or ill, they formulated my idea of what a man should be. And so I want a guy who at least likes cars and knows something about them. I mean, he’d have to, just to hold his own with my family!

  Of course I’ve met quite a few men like that through my dad’s business, but no one special…no one that makes me wonder, for example, what getting close to them would be like.

  What getting naked with them would be like.

  Until now.

  Because, boy…I am definitely thinking some naked thoughts about Mark.

  Earlier, when we first met, I was mesmerized to look into those sky-blue eyes of his, up close and personal. They’re such a nice color, blue like Rob’s, but a darker shade, from what I could tell.

  And what a body he has! Nice big chest, well-developed and strong arms.

  I wonder if his legs are nice too…probably they are. Why wouldn’t they be?

  Staring into the lowering flames of the bonfire, what I see in my mind’s eye makes me squirm in my seat: Those blue eyes looking up at me from between my legs…that sensuous mouth fastened on my….

  “Boo,” comes a soft voice from just behind me.

  “Ahh!” I let out a small shriek, my hand going to my chest. I look behind me and there he is, grinning a mile wide and larger than life.

  “Heh! Did I startle you? Sorry.” He sits in a chair opposite mine, now offering me a rather sweet smile.

  “It’s okay. I was just…um, thinking…thoughts,” I say, lamely. “I didn’t hear you come out of the house.”

  “I didn’t come out of the house. I came around the side.”

  “Oh. Sneaky.” I smile, my heart hammering away. “Did you want a coffee?”

  “No, thanks.” He holds up a bottle of water. “I came purely to talk to you. It’s not too often I meet a girl who drives a car like yours. Or, who looks like you, frankly.” He pulls the chair closer and looks at me with tired but gleaming eyes.

  “Oh. Th-thank you.” Feeling my face redden, I shift nervously in my seat, my earlier bravado all but evaporated in a spasm of shyness.

  His grin widens. Great, he knows the effect he’s having me. I take a deep breath and try to get myself together.

  “You’re welcome. So, how was dinner?”

  “Awesome! How was yours?”

  “The same. Mom makes a mean roast beef.” He takes a swig of water and smiles.

  “I bet! Brenda fixed us your mother’s special potato dish tonight. The one that you make with onion soup mix. God! So yummy! We fought for the crusty bits left over in the pan.”

  He laughs. “I know the dish! It is good, isn’t it? My brother and I had the same fight many times when we were growing up.”

  “Your mom sure knows a thing or two about spuds. Heh.”

  A few seconds of silence goes by. Mark takes another drink of water, looking at me boldly, a smile playing around his mouth.

  I smile back.

  “So, Brenda tells me that you just got a shop opened. Congratulations.”

  “Thanks. And Rob told me that you’re a Sinclair, of the famous auto supply family. I met your brother Hamish when he came to set me up for an account.”

  “Oh? Yeah…Hamish is…Hamish is um, cool,” I say, cringing inwardly at how lame I sound. “He’s a mechanic as well…I mean, all my brothers are…but Hamish mostly just takes care of accounts these days”

  “I haven’t met any of your other brothers yet.”

  “No? Well, um… Callum…that’s my oldest brother…he…he takes care of the marketing and customer satisfaction and that kind of thing.”

  Mark nods. “How many brothers do you have, exactly?”

  “Five. Callum’s the oldest, then it’s Hamish, then Bryce. Bryce lives in California now. Then…then comes Gavin, who works the stores mostly and then Tommy…that’s my twin…Tommy’s strictly a high-performance mechanic. He’s like, a savant with motors! He does all the customizations and restorations on the classic cars. Plus, maintenance and repairs for the honchos.” I hear myself babbling but I can’t seem to help it.

  “Honchos?”

  “Rich clients with expensive vehicles.”

  He nods thoughtfully. “And you all work for your father?”

  “Yes, all except Bryce.” I keep my voice casual. “He’s an excellent mechanic as well, but ended up moving to California to pursue a career in music.”

  “Ah. You said your dad and your brothers helped you restore your Firebird. You must know a thing or two about motors yourself?

  “I’ve picked up a lot from them, for sure. The truth is, though, that they restored it and I helped them…not the other way around.” I give him a sheepish look. “I’m not as interested in what’s under the hood as I am in just… driving. I love to drive. Love, love, love it. I mean, I know that it’s what’s under the hood that makes or breaks the driving experience. But I have no desire to change out an engine just for shits and giggles.”

  Mark’s nodding and watching my face as I rattle on, that smile drifting into view from time to time.

  His demeanor is so laid-back and relaxed, I can’t help relaxing as well.

  “So, what kind of work do you do at Sinclair?”

  “Administrative. Business and computer stuff, accounting and inventory control systems, that kind of thing. It’s part time when I’m at school. Right now, I’m working full time for the summer.”

  “What are you taking at school?”

  “I have one year left on my degree in Business Management.”

  “Cool. And, um, mind if I ask, how old are you exactly?”

  “Twenty-one. I’ll be twenty-two in September. How old are you?”

  “Thirty-five. Compared to you, I’m practically a senior.”

  “True,” I say, grinning. “You seem well-preserved for your age though.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  We grin at each other for a moment.

  “So, you gonna work for the family business full-time when you’re done school?”

  “I…don’t know. I don’t think so, actually. I think I’ll probably get a job somewhere else. Just to…find my own way. So to speak.”

  He’s nodding. �
��Out from under the shadow of the family?”

  “Well…yes. Don’t get me wrong…they’ve given me opportunities that I’d never have, otherwise.” I pause to scratch my leg. “Funny. I was just talking to Brenda about this.”

  He tilts his head, encouraging me to go on.

  “I was telling her that I do feel over-protected sometimes. I’m the only girl, and the baby of the family. Well, me and my twin are the babies of the family.”

  “I know how that is, kind of. I’m the baby of the family, too. Rob still feels responsible for me and it comes out in a controlling way. And if you do something stupid, heaven help ya!”

  “I know, it’s awful! And, really bad if you knew darn well you shouldn’t have done the stupid thing in the first place,” I chuckle.

  “True. Although, I bet my stupid things were probably…stupider… than your stupid things.” He looks skyward, narrowing his eyes comically, as if he’s replaying his own words to see if they made any sense.

  I giggle.

  “You first,” he says. “Tell me a stupid thing you did.”

  “What? Whoa now, I don’t think so. You go first.” I put my chin to my shoulder and give him a look, as if to say, you got some nerve.

  He lets out a guffaw, eyes crinkling and flashing a toothy smile. “You look cute when you do that,” he says, sitting forward and pulling his chair closer still. “Okay, I’ll give you a driving one.” He takes a swig from his water bottle, re-caps it and then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Right after I got my license, my dad gave me the keys to his car for the night. His beater car, not his good ride.”

  He plucks a blade of grass from the lawn and stretches it between his fingers. “I let one of my friends talk me into racing it. Middle of the night, on one of the back roads outside of town. So, we make a big deal out of setting up a starting line and getting a guy to stand to the side with a t-shirt to use as a flag…y’know, the whole thing. Finally, we’re ready. We wait for the count, revving our engines, the flag goes down…and….I put the pedal to the metal!” He sticks his arms straight out, holds an imaginary steering wheel, and stiffens his right leg like it’s pressing the gas pedal. “But the car only squealed along for maybe thirty feet before I lost control and ditched it. Hah! The whole thing took less than ten seconds.”