Batteries Not Included: A Romantic Comedy Page 5

  “Fine,” I sigh. She snatches the bag from me and takes the remote out and hands it back to me. Great. I use the bathroom and then put on these real uncomfortable and scratchy panties, but conveniently leave the battery out of the crotch.

  “Ready?” She winks as we head out onto the beach and look for a place to sit down. She drops her beach bag and pulls out two large towels and tosses me one. “Sit,” she demands. I sit and roll the sleeves of my t-shirt up to sun my shoulders and then lean back on my hands as the sun warms my face.

  “What the fuck?” she barks, and I open my eyes to look at her.

  “What?” I feign innocence once again. She grabs my crotch and squeezes, and I smack her hand away. “You did not just do that.”

  “You took the battery out.” Damn, that didn’t take her long. I lie back and close my eyes, laughing.

  “Go put it in, Shel.”

  “No, Sarah. I’m not going to sit here on the beach with you controlling my vibrating panties. That’s just silly.”

  “But I paid for them!” she cries, though I can tell she isn’t really mad.

  “I’ll pay you back,” I say, reaching into my backpack and tossing her two twenties. “There, happy?”

  “No, I’d be happier if you were getting off.”

  “Why is my sexual gratification such an issue with you?”

  “Because you haven’t gotten laid in … months!”

  “So? That doesn’t mean anything,” I say, hopeful this conversation is coming to a final ending soon. She lets out a huff, and I feel a thunk on my stomach where she tossed the remote to me.

  “You’re no fun.”

  “I know, fun is overrated.” I smile without looking at her. Why she was so adamant about me getting off in public, I have no idea. But I let it go for now because I’m tired of talking about it. I just want to enjoy the day and relax for a bit.

  But apparently, that’s not on my agenda. A few minutes into our sunshine snooze fest, a shadow blocks the sun, and I crack my eyes open, thinking it’s getting cloudy. Standing over me is a man, tall and ...

  “Hey, Nash!” Sarah perks up. How does this guy keep finding me? Then it hits me, and I look at Sarah who has this innocent yet guilty look on her face.

  “Ugh,” I say as I stand up and brush the sand off my legs. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to go to the restroom. You guys have fun,” I say as I walk off, this time angry as hell. She planned this, apparently. No wonder she was so gung-ho on these stupid panties. I can’t believe I almost fell for it, the conniving little twat. I walk back into the dive bar we ate at and hit the bathroom, taking these stupid things off and shoving them back into my backpack and putting my grannies back on. I then sit down at the bar and order a beer, they can just wonder where I am. Hell, they can leave for all I care. I can have the rental car company pick me up here and then I won’t be stranded.

  I get halfway through my beer when Sarah and Nash and some other dude walk in the bar. Sarah has googley eyes for his friend, but I want no part of it. “There you are!” Sarah walks up next to me. “Why didn’t you come back out?”

  “Not feeling well, can you take me to pick up my rental so I can go home?”

  “Really? We just got here.”

  “Yeah, actually. I’m tired after yesterday. And the heat is getting to me,” I lie. I tend to lie a lot lately, and I hate that.

  “Okay,” she says, her bottom lip poking out.

  “Why don’t you and Jake stay? I’ll take her home,” Nash says to Sarah, but he’s looking at me. I sense that Sarah is more than okay with that, and if it’s the only way I’m going to get out of here, I agree.

  “Yes, thank you. But you can drop me off at the rental car place, rather than home.”

  “Okay, you ready?”

  “Yeah.” I grab my bag, pay my tab, and climb down of my barstool. My head swirls a little, and I feel his hand on my arm.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, just overdid it today I think.”

  “Call me later,” Sarah says as she and Jake leave out the back door of the bar, the bright sunshine filling the darkness.

  “Whew,” I say.

  “She’s pretty intense, huh?”

  “You have no idea.” I sigh as I get my wits about me.

  “You sure you’re okay?” Nash asks.

  “Yeah, just a little dizzy I guess. I’ll be fine.”

  “Well, let me get you home,” he says as he presses his hand at the small of my back. His fingers singe my skin, but I shake it off. I refuse to let Sarah know she’s right, that something sparks inside me when I see of think of Nash. He’s just a guy, albeit a hot guy, but he’s way out of my league.

  “Actually, just the rental car place so I can pick up my car. If you can drop me there, that’d be great.”

  “Sure, but I’m going to follow you home if that’s okay.”

  I snap my head back, “Why?”

  “You have a head injury, Shelby. And you just got dizzy back there. It’s not exactly a good idea for you to get behind the wheel of a car right now. The only way I’m taking you there is if you let me follow you home.”

  “Fine,” I say as he opens the door to his black truck. His huge black truck. “I can’t get in this thing.”

  “Step up,” he says as he gently lifts me onto the step bar like I weigh nothing.

  “Thanks,” I say as he shuts the door and walks over to the driver’s side and gets in, the Hemi engine roaring to life.

  “Ready?” he asks as he puts the car in reverse to back out of his parking space.

  “Ready,” I say, though I’m not exactly sure if I’m ready for this or not.

  Chapter 6

  I’m not sure I trust this guy any further than I can throw him, but I need to get out of here and get my rental and go home. Sarah dragged me out of the house when I wasn’t ready, but I owed her anyway after making her miss her big night last night. I start to wonder why a man needs such a big truck.

  After I buckle in, I look over at Nash who has that sexy smirk on his face. He puts his mirrored Ray Ban Aviators on and holy hotness, or maybe it’s the heat in the truck, I can’t be sure. But I look away and lower the window as we pull out onto Center Street and head back toward Charleston.

  He’s just a ride home. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself. I try and stay mad at Sarah for playing Cupid, but the scent of his cologne rolls over me like a tidal wave and all anger subsides. I’ll get her back, though, I always do. Vibrating panties, what in the hell was she thinking?

  I stare out the window over the water as we cross the bridge back to the mainland and the feelings of freedom leave right out the window. There’s something about the water and the sand that sucks all of your problems away. But as soon as that disappears, the problems resurface.

  “You seem a million miles away. Wanna talk about it? I’m a good listener.” Nash’s deep voice pulls me out of my thoughts.

  “Um, I don’t know you. So no, I think I’ll keep my thoughts to myself.”

  “Well, talking will help us get to know each other,” he says, those full lips daunting me.

  “You tried to take my foot off the other night,” I growl.

  “But I also saved your life when you wrapped that death trap around the telephone pole.”

  “Hey, I loved my death trap.”

  “Can it be fixed?” he asks.

  “I doubt it, but we’ll find out I guess.”

  “What kind of car will you get, if it’s totaled?” He keeps on making small talk.

  “I dunno, something fast and mean I think.”

  He looks at me, and one eyebrow raises over his shades. “You can’t keep a Fiat on the road, what are you going to do with a muscle car?”

  I shrug. “It’ll be heavier and stay on the road if I hit a puddle of water.”

  “Maybe, as long as you know how to drive it.”

  “I can drive it,” I say, his eyebrow raising once again over his sunglasses. �
��Are you taunting me?”

  “Me? No way. Just … chatting. Trying to figure out what makes Shelby tick.”

  “Well, when you figure it out, let me know.”

  He grunts under his breath and puts his eyes back on the road, his strong hands at ten and two on the steering wheel and he’s barely doing the speed limit. I see the fifty-five-mile-per-hour speed limit sign and then nonchalantly glance at the speedometer and see he’s doing fifty-three.

  “Ugh,” I groan, throwing my head back on the headrest and internally stomping my feet like a child having a temper tantrum. Hey, it’s not beyond me to show out when I want to. My head hurts, my skin burns from the sun, and all I want to do is get home, away from … this man … this man that makes my skin burn even more. I don’t need that shit, not right now. I’m very happy in my solo bubble, and he’s determined to bust it. And Sarah is helping him. If she doesn’t stop, she’s going to need to have my foot surgically removed from her ass.

  Breaking the silence, he turns the radio up, and my ears bleed from the bubble gum pop music that now vibrates through the cab of the truck. His thumbs and fingers pop against the steering wheel, and his left foot taps out a beat. He’s so not a Taylor Swift kinda guy, so I’m wondering if he thinks I like this shit and he’s playing it for me. His crystalline eyes are on the road, so I toss my shades on and lean back, scanning his face as he drives. Sandy blonde hair, strong jaw, and just a small curve on his nose, like it’s been broken before. Two-day-old scruff on that jaw, and I suddenly feel the urge to reach over and touch it, so I quickly sit on my hands as my eyes catch his Adam’s apple. Good Lord, the man is sex on a stick.

  He smirks, his lip curling up as he slows for a red light. I scan his strong arms, that tattoo snaking out from under his tight sleeve. His thighs are muscular and tan, and then my eyes catch the bulge between his legs. He glances my way, but my mirrored Ray-Ban Aviators hide my eyes, or so I thought …

  “See anything you like?” he asks, swiftly jerking my head up, back to his eyes. Fuck my life, he caught me.

  I turn my head toward him trying to pretend that I was looking at the road, but the look on his face tells me I am so busted. “Yeah, I like that car,” I say as a candy-apple-red Camaro blows past us, in the slow lane, his middle finger wagging out the driver side window. I look behind us and realize there is a line of cars behind us like a funeral procession. I glance at the speedometer again and realize he’s doing ten below the limit. “I think you’re pissing everyone off,” I say as I turn my head and look out the cab window again, a not-so-subtle hint that he needs to pick up the pace. “Why are you driving so slow?”

  “I’m doing the speed limit, safety first.” He smirks.

  “Safety? That dude just flipped you off,” I say. “The next one could open fire. Why don’t you either speed up or get over, let these people by before somebody loses their mind?” I snap, unsure if I’m upset that he’s creeping along, or that he caught me checking him out.

  “I’m taking my time,” he says. “The faster I get you home, the faster you’ll be out of my truck, and I happen to like you in my truck.”

  “Well, I prefer to get home alive and not with a bullet in my head.”

  “I’d save you.” He smiles, moving over into the right lane and the line of cars zooms by us, honking and yelling out their windows as they speed past us.

  “Yeah, I bet you would,” I groan and stare out the window. I can’t for the life of me figure out why this guy gets to me. “Are you an EMT or a fireman as well?” I ask, thinking I might as well relax a little.

  “Both, mostly EMT but we all can do both,” he says as I look over at him, that taunting tattoo still snaking out from under his sleeve, and I suddenly wonder if he has more and what that one means. “We take shifts, so next week I could be on the truck instead of the bus.” I nod and stare out the window at the passing scenery, but I feel his eyes on me. He’s checking me out, and I debate whether to call him out on it like he did me a few minutes ago. But I decide I’m embarrassed enough, so I pretend I don’t notice.

  “What made you decide to be an EMT?”

  “My father is a doctor, and he wanted me to follow in his footsteps, but I felt there was a bigger need in EMS and First Responders. So, I compromised and chose this. He wasn’t happy at first, but he’s learned to live with it.”

  “Do you and your father not get along?” I ask, my prying tendencies now rearing their ugly heads. He’s quiet, but I can see his eyes working as he decides exactly how much he wants to tell me.

  “We get along okay now, but it wasn’t always that way,” he says, and I decide to let it go. I’ve pried enough as it is.

  “What about you?” he asks, changing the subject.

  “What about me?”

  “What do you do?”

  “Advertising,” I mumble. “Not nearly as exciting as what you do.”

  “Surely you find it interesting, or you wouldn’t do it.”

  “Meh, it’s a job.”

  “Who do you work for?”

  “Myself,” I glare at him. “I have my own business. Small, but effective. One employee, for now. But we’re hoping to get a big account, and that should open up a lot of doors for us.”

  “As in Designs?”

  “You know of them?”

  “Yeah, my mom retired from there two years ago.”

  “Damn, small world,” I say. “What did she do there?”

  “She was in purchasing, handled fabrics and window designs.”

  “Interesting department, I guess.”

  “She was always changing curtains, blinds … I swear we had a new look every year.” He smiled, but it was a grim smile. I immediately think there’s something else to this, but I don’t ask any further. We finish our trek in companionable silence, each of us stealing the occasional glance at each other, then I realize he’s just passed the rental car place.

  “You missed your turn.”

  “What?” he snaps out of his trance. “Oh, shit, yeah. Sorry,” he murmurs as he turns into another parking lot to turn around. A few minutes later, we’re pulling into the rental car place.

  “Thanks for the ride, I appreciate it.”

  “No problem,” he says as he gets out of the car and quickly walks around to my side, holding out his hand to help me down. I’m thankful because that’s one hell of a drop to the concrete.

  “Well, thanks again,” I say as I turn toward the building. He doesn’t follow me, but I feel his eyes on me, suddenly making me feel self-conscious. My head wants to turn back, but I hold my ground and walk inside. The guy behind the counter is cute, real cute. But entirely too young for me. Why I’m thinking this, I don’t know. I’ve never paid much attention to men before, but Nash has my head spinning, I guess.

  “Can I help you?”

  “Yes, I’m Shelby Mansfield. I have a reservation.”

  “Let me see here,” he says as he starts punching info into his computer. “Ah, yes, here it is. I have a few cars to choose from that fall under your insurance,” he says as he turns his computer screen to face me. I scan the list and spot the Mustang about six cars down the list.

  “Can I get the Mustang?” I ask, figuring I can use this rental to test drive something while I decide what to replace my Fiat with.

  “Sure thing.” He smiles. “Nice choice.” He prints out the contract, and I sign my life away before he hands the keys to the porter to pull the car around. “Have a seat, we’ll pull it up for you and then do a walk-around.”

  I have a seat in the lobby and close my eyes and rest my head on my hand with my elbow sitting on the hard arm of the chair. I feel myself just about to fall asleep as my body jerks, my elbow slips off the arm of the chair, and my eyes pop open and look around, confirming that no one saw that.

  “Miss Mansfield?”

  “Yes?” I say, standing and looking toward the door where the clerk stands, smirking. Damn it, I really am making an ass of myself today. I follow
him out, and we walk around the car, and I sign off that there’s no damage before he hands me the keys. “Enjoy, Miss Mansfield. The car is due back in two weeks.”

  “Awesome, thank you,” I say as I yawn and take the keys, thankful my condo is just around the corner. The car is already running, but as I put it in drive and press the gas, the low rumble of car sounds good. I stop and turn roll the window down, then shut down the car before turning it back on. Vroom is what I hear when the engine turns over. “Nice,” I say to myself. Much better than the sound of mice laughing when I crank my car. I do this a few more times before finally pulling off into traffic, as people started looking at me. I give myself an inward chuckle and make the four-mile trek home.

  I feel like I’m on display at a red light, and I’m not sure how I feel about it. I look to my right, and there’s a 370z next to me, the dude revving his engine. I glance at him over the top of my sunglasses and shake my head. No way I’m racing anyone. The light turns green and his tires spin, shooting smoke and the smell of burnt rubber into the air, but I bide my time and proceed as usual, deciding I’ll take this baby out on a back road later and see what she’s got.

  I pull up to my building and sit there for a second and exhale a deep breath as my stomach rumbles loudly. “Food, I need food,” I say to myself still sitting in the car, pulling my cell out and dialing the pizza place that I have on speed-dial. I order my pizza and grab my backpack. As I get to the door, I realize I don’t have my house keys. So, I start digging through my trusty old backpack, and as I get my fingers on the key ring, I drop the bag … all my shit scattering on the back stoop. “Shit,” I growl, dropping to my knees to start gathering my stuff.

  “Do you always keep this much shit in your bag?” a male voice chuckles above me, and I startle, having been in my own little world for the last few minutes.

  “Nash, what are you doing here?” I ask, frustrated as hell that this man keeps catching me at my worst.

  “I told you I was going to follow you home, make sure you made it okay.”

  “Right, well … as you can see, I made it okay,” I snap. I know I'm a bitch, but this man puts me on edge for some reason.