Chapter 10

AN: Thanks for all the reviews...Some of you have what's happening figured out! Go, reviewers, go!...

Fixin' things up

After they'd semi-argued, they finally made it to Collins' Mechanical. Harvey Collins, the proprietor, was hard to judge, because he seemed to lack all emotion—except gruffness. Penelope hadn't liked him when she'd first met him; he'd been nice to her, but he'd grumbled and growled at Kevin.

"That man is a swindler!" Kevin had said, leaving mid argument and stomping out to the truck. "I refuse to be cheated."

"He's the only mechanic in a hundred mile radius, Kevin," she'd pleaded. "We have to talk to him."

"No, we do not." From the set of his chin, she knew he meant business. "I will do them."

"Honey, you don't know how to fix brakes!"

"Don't worry, dearest," he'd said, patting her knee with that hopeful smile he got often. "I'll look in a book. Brakes are not that difficult. I have a relative who does them often, and if she can do it, I can."

Of course, that lead to where she was now. She felt awful for the way they'd left last time—with animosity. It made her nervous to walk into the shop. How would he treat her...or Derek?

Immediately, the enormous, burly man began to size up his customers, his hairy forearms crossed over his barrel-chest. "What can I do for you?"

"Hi, there," Derek said, just a hint of a smile on his lips. "We're having some brake trouble. I need to purchase a set of pads and some rotors, a set of calipers…oh, and she could use some new wiper blades, too."

The man began to smile at Derek. "Sounds like you know your trucks."

"Been fixing them up for years," he said with a grin of his own. "I taught my cousins house repairs; they helped me rebuild a T-bird."

"Nice car."

"You know it. Derek Morgan." He extended his hand, which the other man accepted in a greasy handed grip.

"Harvey Collins." The man paused for a moment. "That's dangerous work to do if you don't know what you're doing."

Derek nodded back with a serious look. "Damn straight. Safety first."

"Come back here…I'll show you the parts," Harvey said, clapping Derek's shoulder. "You got a lift or jacks out at the old Oleson place?"

Derek chuckled. "I haven't a clue."

"Tell you what," Harvey said. "I'm behind on my orders today. You help me turn them rotors on that old Cadillac over there and that old Chevy out yonder, and I'll let you use my lift."

Derek beamed back at him. "Sounds like a plan."

Penelope was now the proud owner of a very nice set of brakes, and she'd only had to pay for parts. Derek had done most of the work. While the truck had been up on the lift, Derek had changed the oil and rotated the tires, too. Always wanting to learn, she'd helped out, too, although she had a feeling both Derek and Harvey hadn't been letting her get the full picture of how hard the job was.

Derek's salmon colored designer t-shirt was covered in grease stains, but he hadn't seemed to care. Harvey had offered her a set of coveralls, which she'd gratefully accepted, but by the end of the day, it hadn't really mattered. Even her hair had splashes of grease and grime.

It was late in the evening now. The work had taken the majority of the day, but it had been enjoyable, and Esther 2—as she now called the truck—was running like a dream. Even Harvey had helped Derek out with some of the bigger repairs, and he'd chatted with both of them like they were old friends.

It had been one of the best days she'd had since moving to Wyoming.

When it came time to go home, she'd disrobed from the coveralls and Derek had washed his hands with some goopy looking soap with grit in it. He turned and smiled at her.

"Ready to go home, little grease monkey?" he asked with a wink.

"Oh, yes," she said, and then she yawned.

The corner of his mouth shot up and his brows shot down in a questioning look. "Hmm…I was going to take you for ice cream, but if you're too tired…"

"No!" she cried, suddenly wide awake. She had a few weaknesses in life, and Derek, unfortunately, knew most of them.

He slung his arm around her shoulders. "Think they've got Chunky Monkey?"

"No, lover boy," she said, unable to keep the excitement out of her voice. "They've got homemade ice cream that is even better."

"Even better than Ben and Jerry's?" he asked, positively incredulous. "That's sacrilege, sugar."

"You'll see."

Leaning against the front of the truck outside of the drug store called The Apothecary Shoppe, Penelope licked a path up the side of a deep chocolate cone. The chocolate was wonderful; it made her eyes water, it was so perfect. Derek was eating a butter brickle cone with a similar look of bliss on his face.

They both had triple scoops.

"This is a very healthy dinner," Derek mused, but he was smiling, so it lost any claims to seriousness.

She nodded. "Quite."

He licked around where a spot was melting, very quickly, like he would be damned to let a drop hit the ground.

"I was right, wasn't I?" she asked, a know it all smile on her face.

He sighed in defeat. "Yes, sweet girl. You were right."

She giggled gleefully, but didn't say a word, as she continued to lick her cone.

A long moment—about the time it took to eat two scoops—later, he said, "Bad ass."

That caused her to giggle more. She was a bad ass, rubbing it in. She loved to do that.

She yawned again, the bone tired weariness finally catching up with her. "Oh, man. I must've worked harder than I thought today."

"You did," he said, as he ate the last bite of his cone. "And I should get you home."

She looked at the remaining cone that she had and took one more lick. "I'm done, too, I think."

"Don't waste," he said, taking the cone. He gobbled it down in two bites.

She smiled at him. "Thanks."

"Here," he said, standing in front of her. "You got some grease…and ice cream…on your face."

"Oh," she said, standing stock still. She closed her eyes as he removed her glasses and hooked them on his shirt.

She was surrounded by intoxicating scents. She could smell the lingering traces of grease that clung to his skin, the slight chocolate scent on his warm breath, the woodsy, clean essence of his soap and cologne, and the sweat of a hard day's work. It was a heady combination, and it was making it hard for her to focus.

Gently, delicately, he began to clean the side of her face, tucking a strand of her badly needing to be colored hair behind her ear. He treated her reverently with his touch; she felt almost fragile in his care.

It had been a long time since she'd felt that cherished.

"There you go," he said, sliding the glasses back on her face. His voice was a low purr that caused an eruption of goose bumps on her arms.

She stared into his eyes and swallowed a lump at the dark emotion she saw there. There was love, warmth, pride, friendship. There was so much there, fathomless pools of emotion she could lose herself in. It was the same look he'd had when he'd said All I need is you.

"Th-Thank you," she said, her full heart confused and sore.

He smiled then and took a step away from her. "Let's get you home."