Page 8 of Weather the Storm
“We don’t have to go into that right now, Goldilocks. Not saying we aren’t gonna discuss it…just not now.” I don’t want to let her go, but I remove my arms from around her and settle onto the couch beside her, warming when she lays her head on my shoulder. “Let’s talk about your car instead. While I was in the waiting room, Mateo called from the auto shop, said he couldn’t be sure until the adjustor came out, but that it looked totaled to him.”
“No, it’s fine. I-it’s so s-stupid r-really.” Blushing, she twiddles her thumbs. “I was thinkin’ a-about y-y-you and got distracted. I m-missed the brake and punched the g-gas instead.”
“You were thinkin’ about me, huh?” I ask, secretly pleased to know I was on her mind, when suddenly she blurts out, “Oh God! This is my second accident…”
“You know what? Let’s not worry about filing this.” My words seem to surprise her just as much as they do me. “I doubt you’d have gotten much for your hunk of metal anyway, so when you’re feeling up to it, we’ll talk about getting you a new car. But, before any of that, driving lessons—you need ’em.”
“You’re right, I do. Thank you, Simon,” she says into the fabric of my shirt before bolting upright. “Your truck! Oh, nononono. Your truck!”
“Don’t worry about my truck. Your car took the hit more than my truck did. Nothing more than a messed-up bumper.”
“Really?” she asks, looking up at me, her eyes shining.
“Really,” I assure her, leaving out the fact that my bumpers are custom and in addition to replacing the back one, I also need a new quarter panel and backup sensors. All that’ll come of telling Magnolia is her feeling bad—not bad, worse—about what happened.
Our conversation lulls, and I notice her breathing is now deep and even. A glance down at her confirms what I already know: Magnolia’s dead asleep. With ease, I lift her and carry her down the hall to the room she’s staying in, even though some part deep inside of me is screaming for me to take her to my bed. The rest of our talk will have to wait until tomorrow.
Even though she’s been alert and coherent, I still set an alarm to check on her in two hours, and another two hours after that to give her some pain meds. Better safe than sorry and all that.
§
After a sleepless night due to checking on Magnolia even though she didn’t need it, I wake up exhausted. But, knowing she’s safe—yeah, that’s more than worth it.
With a groan and a grumble, I make my way into the kitchen to start the coffee, only to stop short at the sight of Magnolia standing in front of the already percolating pot.
I take a moment to appreciate the view. While I’m fairly certain Magnolia’s a real-life angel, her body is made for sin.
Clearing my throat, I announce my presence as to not startle her. Slowly, she spins to face me, and her eyes rake over my body like hot coals, reminding me of the fact that I’m shirtless.
I stand stock-still, letting her look to her heart’s content. Once her brilliant blues land on mine, I grin, loving the scarlet that blossoms across her cheeks.
“G-g-good morning,” she mumbles, dropping her eyes to her feet.
“Good mornin’ to you too. You sleep all right?” I ask, even though I damn well know she did.
“Mmhmm,” she mumbles, and I walk toward her, stopping when we’re toe to toe, so close that I can feel the heat from her body and see her nipples pebble beneath her shirt.
With my thumb to her chin, I tilt her head so her gaze meets mine. “Nothin’ to be embarrassed about, pretty girl. I looked my fill too, only you had your back to me.” My words only seem to make her more flustered, so I step back and set about pouring our coffee.
After grabbing two mugs from the top rack of the dishwasher, I turn to the fridge, pausing to ask her how she takes her coffee.
“Cream and two Splendas.”
“I only have plain sugar, that okay?” I ask, making a mental note to pick up some Splenda from the store.
“Sure, that’s perfect.”
I close the refrigerator door with my hip and doctor up our mugs just right—only cream for me—then carry them over to the table, where I pull out a chair for her. “Come, sit.”
“Thank you.” Magnolia cradles her mug in her hands, gently blowing on the steaming beverage.
“Not a problem at all. Got a few things we need to discuss today too—is now good?” She nods. “I need to swing by your place and get some stuff for you. Make me a list?”
“I…okay, Simon, but h-how’re you gonna get there?”
“Mateo offered to set me up in a rental, but my dad’s old junk truck still runs just fine.”
“Junk truck?” Magnolia questions, tilting her head to the left.
