The two of us were wedged together in the cab of the excavator on a seat that most certainly was not meant for two. My right thigh was pressed tightly against his left thigh as he gave me a quick rundown of the controls.
"See this?" he said pointing to one of two joysticks in front of us. "This puts the bucket where you want it."
I wasn't following. "The bucket?"
"Yeah, the scoop."
"Oh. Right." I let out a nervous laugh. "I guess I should have known that, huh?"
"Not if you're a rookie." He smiled. "By the way, you look great in that hat."
I laughed. "Oh, stop it. I do not." He meant, of course, the yellow hard hat that he'd retrieved from his own pickup – a big white Ford that looked nearly brand new.
While he'd been getting the hat, I'd dashed to the coffee truck, where I'd made Wayne a super-size peppermint mocha with extra whipped cream and bonus sprinkles.
I wouldn't be counting it as one of the dozen either. The wayIsaw it, I owed Wayne a lot more than a free mocha for giving in to such a crazy idea.
What I owed Bryce, I could only imagine.But I knew what Iwantedto give him – not as payment, but because I had never been so aroused in my whole life.
Call me twisted, but the feel of the motor underneath the machine and the sensation of Bryce's thigh pressing against mine, plus the fact that he'd suggested such a cathartic thing – all of it was proving deadly to my self-control.
I wanted him.
Bad.
But I refused to get all distracted, so I listened intently as he briefly explained all of the controls and answered all of my rookie questions with a degree of good humor that would've melted the heart of even the grinchiest of grinches.
And I was no grinch.
Or, at least I tried not to be.
When he finished with his overview, he asked, "And you know what we've gotta do next, right?"
I straightened in the seat. "Drive to the drive-through?"
"You got it."
One of the things that had made this particular drive-through so maddening was that customers actually ordered at the window – not at a far-off speaker.
It was part of the burger joint's marketing schtick – letting customers order face-to-face, not voice-to-voice. The idea had obviously been a colossal failure because I knew for a fact that their new place had a more standard setup – one that hopefully involved a lot less yelling.
But that was beside the point. Now, I was focused on the task at-hand.
The excavator was parked maybe twenty feet from the dreaded drive-through with no obstacles in our way. Still, I felt compelled to ask, "So, doyouwant to drive? Or do you want me to?"
Bryce smiled. "It's all yours."
Turns out, driving the hulking yellow beast wasn't terribly different from driving my own coffee truck. Still, I took it nice and slow – playing it so safe that I was shocked when Bryce said, "Woah, hold up. Not so fast."
I hit the brakes and turned to look at him. "Seriously?"
He grinned. "No, you're going slower than my grandma."
"Hey, maybe I want to be careful."
"If you're anymorecareful," he said, "we won't get there 'til Tuesday."
"Hah! ItisTuesday."
