"He's fallen victim to ‘the idiot box'?" I borrowed our father's expression and used air quotes for effect.
Lauren smiled and went back to chopping, "Hardly. He only watches the news. CNN twenty-four-seven. He may be old-fashioned and bigoted, but he probably knows more about world events than even you do."
That didn't surprise me; he always had been an informed man, aware of current events and never shy about boasting his opinion on them. It was a trait I had learned from him, and it had served me well. "What are you making now?" I said, referring to the vegetables she was chopping.
Lauren didn't miss a slice. "Prepping dinner for tomorrow. I figured since we'll be gone tomorrow afternoon, I'd throw together a stew with the leftover lamb. Oliver is useless in the kitchen, but even he can turn on a crockpot."
"Can I help?"
"What you can do is take those boys a couple of beers. I promised them you would, and they're probably wondering where you are."
I had to smile at the thought of Bryce waiting for me, even if it was only because I came bearing liquor. I grabbed three bottles from the refrigerator and headed out to the garage. It was already seven, and I wondered how long we'd be staying. I couldn't imagine they'd be tinkering with the truck much longer tonight. I decided to hold my silence and let Bryce decide when we left.
When I joined them, they hovered around the truck's open hood. Bryce was pointing to something with a wrench. "She's ripping through the gears too fast and not giving the synchros enough time to work," he was saying. It sounded like Japanese to me, but it appeared to make sense to Oliver. "She needs to change the gears a little slower. I can also change the gearbox oil, in case."
"Nah, I can do that myself later this week. Thanks, though." Oliver closed the hood, careful not to slam it.
"I brought gifts," I declared, passing each of them a cold bottle and then opening the third for myself.
"You didn't happen to bring any of that pie with you?" Oliver asked.
I shook my head. "No such luck. I have a feeling Lauren isn't going to serve it until we're all back inside.
"I have a feeling you're right," he agreed.
I took a swig of my beer and swayed my weight from side to side, a calming habit I'd had since childhood. "Are you trying to dance with me?" Bryce joked, noticing my movement. I chuckled and immediately looked to my feet, suddenly shy, as if he were someone with whom I was unfamiliar.
"Did you get the truck fixed?" I asked, ignoring the comment.
Bryce shrugged. "Isn't much to fix, yet. But there will be if the drivers aren't more careful," he said, giving Oliver the side-eye. "Vehicles are like lovers; you gotta take your time going from first to third gear. Get too eager with your stick, and you're likely to shut down their engine completely."
Oliver shrugged. "I haven't had any trouble yet in that department. Lauren can't get enough of my stick."
"Do you mind?" I groaned. "She's my baby sister."
"She may be your sister, but she's my baby now!" He laughed and thrust his pelvis suggestively. I shielded my eyes, embarrassed and horrified.
"I'm sorry you had to see that," Bryce whispered next to me, smiling. "Not everyone is blessed with rhythm in the bedroom."
I laughed. Oliver overheard. He grabbed a nearby greasy rag and swatted at us. "Shut it you two. Don't be jealous of my moves," he said, thrusting again. This time he held his arms above his head for erotic flavour. "I'm a sexy beast!" Soon, he was pushing against my leg, like a randy German Shepard.
I giggled and pushed him away. I wasn't used to that. In my circle of friends, we didn't thrust upon each other. I also hadn't expected that kind of behaviour from a small town, heterosexual man, like Oliver. Although I should have, he could be a jokester when he wanted to be. A man who loved to make people comfortable but also to make them laugh.
When I first met him, I hadn't been sure how he would respond to me. He was a small-town guy who hadn't been exposed to much diversity. He could have kept me at arm's length, never getting too friendly lest it threw his sexuality into question. But since my arrival, he had done the opposite. We weren't close by any means. He didn't understand my femininity, but he was comfortable enough to be his fun, silly self with me, and for that, I was grateful.
"I ran into James at the post office today," he said, composing himself. Oliver hoisted himself up onto the countertop that lined the back wall of the garage.
"Is that unusual?" Bryce prodded.
"Well, he says it was quite an eventful night, last night. He also says that you may be on Jack's shit list for a while." He looked at me and then back to Bryce. "Anything you want to tell me?"
"Not particularly," Bryce replied. "Besides, I'm sure you've already heard the story. James isn't known for his discretion."
"That's true. He gossips worse than a woman. Your version might be different, though."
Bryce shrugged, "That's usually the case. Three sides to every story and whatnot."
Oliver tossed his empty beer bottle into a large can at the end of the counter. "Well, if what James told me is true," he said, turning his attention to me. "I'm surprised you don't have a shiner." So was I. Surprised and thankful.
I wasn't sure how I'd escaped unmarked. Was I tougher than I thought I was? Unlikely. Was Jack not as tough as I remembered? Even less unlikely. The most likely explanation was that the liquor had me so wobbly that I fell the instant Jack made contact. No resistance, no bruise.
Talking about the incident made me uncomfortable, and Oliver could tell. "If you ask me, it's 'bout time someone called him out on his shit. He's been an arrogant son-of-a-bitch since I've known him. Never could understand why you continued to hang with him after --"
"Dude," Bryce interrupted. "We shoot pool once or twice a month. It's not like we're besties." He explained, finishing his bottle and walking to the can to dispose of it. His expression was annoyed but still smiley. Though Oliver didn't comment further, I could feel something unsaid hanging between them.
It wasn't my business, so I decided not to ask. If It were important, I trusted Bryce would tell me later, and if not, what did it matter? He didn't owe me anything. I downed the rest of my beer and gestured to the house. "I'm not sure about you two, but I could go for a piece of Lauren's pie about now."
Oliver turned to me with a shocked expression. "Dude, that's your sister, and this isn't Kentucky." I didn't get the joke at first, but as I followed them back into the house, it came to me, and I groaned.
After dessert, Oliver drove my father home, and Lauren disappeared into the kitchen, which left Bryce and me alone in the living room. He had settled into the corner of the sofa. His one leg tucked up under himself, and the other stretched out, foot on the coffee table. I sat in the chair adjacent.
"I figure we'll stay an hour more and then hit the road." His voice came out smooth and relaxed, sexy.
I ignored the immediate desire to throw myself across the room. Instead, I nodded in agreement. "Sounds like a plan. If you want to have a few more drinks tonight, I don't mind driving." I preferred it. My lingering hangover made my stomach queasy at the thought of more liquor.