Authors: Michelle Woodward
ROMANCE: CLEAN ROMANCE: Summer Splash! (Sweet Inspirational Contemporary Romance) (New Adult Clean Fantasy Short Stories) (113 page)
She thinks of her favorite dish, the kuliebaika, the four-sided pastry dough with the minced fish in two corners, and sautéed mushrooms in the other two. Blini saturate the layers of the savory, buttery, warm, and sandwiched between the best of both worlds. Right now, it is not hard at all to imagine that she and the food she makes are one.
There is no separating them.
THE END
Rain was pounding against the windshield, assaulting his ears with a torrent of staccato splashes that filled the small car with tension. He was pulled over on the muddy shoulder, and the sky was beginning to fade toward the silky purple of twilight. Already the highway was deserted, not uncommon in this pocket of the midwest; you could drive for an hour without seeing a gas station, a house with plumbing, or anyone younger than forty-five. Most everywhere was flat, but where there were trees, they were dense and clustered together so that you had to go abnormally slow, even for curves, or risk hitting a deer or even a farming vehicle. William had just learned this the hard way, after swerved to avoid a John Deere tractor trundling along in the lane ahead of him, unseen as he zipped around the group of trees curving with the road. Admittedly, it was his fault, and he hadn't expected pity or even necessarily kindness, but after his tire car slid to the other side of the road and clipped against bark and bush, the man driving the tractor didn't stop or even slow down. He turned his head as Will's fiat screeched to stop, averted his gaze, and kept going. Will sat, stunned, for several minutes, trying desperately to reign in his heart rate. He was afraid to assess the damage, even though he knew waiting would only make things worse. And then it had started to rain.
Ten minutes went by, and he turned on his hazards. No cars had passed, and he fingered his cell phone, wondering what to do. Service was spotty at best, and the last gas auto repair place he'd seen was an hour back. It was also doubtful they would be open; most things tended to close around five PM here. Will had only stayed in the tiny Ohio town a handful of nights before finally deciding to take the private practice offer and uproot his life from California, but he was counting on it to stay as sleepy and quaint as it seemed from those visits. Though only thirty minutes from the nearest major town, Davinia resembled something you only saw in movies anymore. Almost everyone went to church, a one room affair with an enormous cross on its roof; babies ran around on sidewalks and were picked up by neighbors taking an afternoon stroll; dogs wandered into your house, and you were simply expected to deal with it. He spoke openly to customers at a diner, in the strip mall, at one of the town's three gas stations, and almost every person was as warm to him as they were to their friends and family. It was like someone had placed a glass case over the town the years before and allowed nothing to get in that didn't match its small-town motif. After the brutal year he'd had, he needed slow, simple, and safe.
Over the patter of the rain against the car's roof, he thought he heard the rumble of an engine. His pulse sped up, and he wondered if he should dart out and try to flag down whoever it was. Janie had been the one who was good with car stuff, and he'd never once actually changed a tire in his thirty-five years. He could see in his rearview mirror now that it was a pick-up truck. It was probably a man, Will guessed, and ashamed though he was to emasculate himself in front of a stranger, he feared being caught on these roads after dark more. Just as he was reaching for his door handle, the gray pick-up truck slowed dramatically and turned on its right blinker, pulling up nearly a hundred feet behind him before cutting its engine.
Will's hand was frozen on the door handle now. He couldn't see the driver; they were pulling on a big black sweater and pulling the hood over their head behind a wide silver mirror. He thumbed the lock on his Fiat as the door to the pick-up swung forward and the driver hopped out, trudging through the rising mud with the heavy black boots. The sweater fell shapelessly to mid-thigh, but the person looked like they were about 5'6---shorter than Will, but maybe stronger. He looked at his clean white sneakers and dress slacks, cursing himself for not checking the weather before he left. The person strode up beside the car and stopped, and Will peered into the hood to try to get a better look. The rain streaking down the glass obscured the person's face, but he could see honey blonde hair and pale skin, which wasn't much indication; then the person rapped on the window sharply and Will started, blushing as he started the car and powered his window down. How rude of him. He was sure this guy was going to give him an earful.
It was lucky the cold spray of rain hit his face just as the wind blew the hood off the person's head, because Will's mouth fell open in shock at the same time. It was a young woman, with a sprinkling of freckles across her nose and sparkling brown eyes. Her hair was wavy and rain-dampened, and she laughed as she pulled the hood around her heart-shaped face, sweeping her wavy locks to one side before tucking it back in. "Damn wind," she said, and her voice was low and smooth. She showed teeth that were white but slightly crooked, and it added charm to her friendly grin.
"Sorry," Will said thickly. He had nothing else chambered, and his thought production had come to a stuttering halt for the moment.
The girl took no notice. "Need some help?" She asked.
Will blushed a deeper crimson. "How did you know?"
She chuckled. "Your hazards are on. How long have you been sitting here?"
"About ten minutes," Will admitted, his face burning with shame. "I have a flat."
"And you thought it might fix itself?" She said conversationally. Her tone was friendly, and her lips were twerking up at the corners. Will was flagellating himself mentally for never learning how to maintain his own car.
"I don't...I've always had someone with me," he explained. His blue shirt was slowly soaking through with rain water, and he welcomed the distraction.
"You're in luck," the woman said, leaning against his door. "I've changed so many tires I should have a medal for it. You got a jack?"
Will nodded, blinking against the rain as he fumbled for the trunk button. It sprang open, and he rolled the window up and stepped out of his car. The woman was already rummaging in the back, half of her body inside the car as she lifted the flap covering the inner storage space. He started to tell her what was what, and then closed his mouth as she found the correct tools and went to work changing tire. The hood slipped off again while she worked, and he handed her tools and watched her. The rain darkened her hair to an almost brown, making her shining caramel eyes even more striking. Her legs were quite well muscled, he could see, and this translated to the curve of her ass being generous even through her jeans. He studied her face again as she was lowering the car and he was placing the ruined tire in his trunk. She was much too young to be admiring, he realized, and felt the burn of shame again. He'd been alone for a while, even when Janie had still technically been around. His ex finally walked out after they hadn't spoken a word to each other in weeks.
"Ow," the girl exclaimed suddenly, snapping Will out of his reverie. She was holding her left hand, where the jack had slipped against her palm while she was folding it away. Blood welled quickly to the surface, and the young woman's eyes widened slowly as she watched the blood wash away under the rain. "Oh."
Will threw open his door and rummaged through his clover compartment, pulling out a small black bag. He found butterfly bandages, antiseptic, and gauze, and seized her hands before she could say anything.
He ignored the prickles of electricity that shot through his arm as he cradled her warm hand. She didn't flinch as he wiped away blood with the rag dipped in antiseptic, drying her hand before bandaging it tightly.
"Keep it above your heart for a few minutes," he said soothingly. She was watching him closely as he bent over her hand, watching it for excessive bleeding. "You might want to get this looked at, especially if this need changing soon. I'm going to give you some extra bandages, and ibuprofen should be enough to stop the pain." He was sheltering her hand against the rain with his body, and his heart was pounding in his ears. He could feel her gaze, and he wanted badly to avoid it, lest he do or say something supremely idiotic. He looked up as her hand floated toward his forehead to brush away a lock of black hair from his lashes, and suddenly her brown eyes were rushing toward his face.
Her mouth pressed against his, hard and fast, and after a moment he pressed back. A soft moan escaped him as her tongue ran across his lower lip and her teeth nipped him gently. She pressed her body against him, and he wrapped his arms around her soft waist as her heart pounded against his chest. Too soon, it was over, and he was gasping for air and watching her sprint toward her truck.
"Thank you!" she was calling with her left hand held over her head. She ducked into her truck, and it roared to life. She waved at him and he waved back, the taste of cinnamon on his lips. The sight of her tail lights burned into his brain, and it wasn't until he slid behind the wheel of his own car that he remembered he hadn't thanked her, or even gotten her name.
He pulled into the long driveway of his new house, a two bedroom ranch style home nestled on an acre of land he was paying $100 a month to maintain for no real reason. It was a soft butter yellow, and it reminded him of his childhood home in Texas. That was partially why he bought it. After Janie left, he wanted anything that reminded him of his time before her, and not after.
He was already moved in and mostly unpacked. His car was full of medical equipment he'd take with him to his new office the next Monday morning, a few things that the moving company wasn't insured to transport. He had a portable MRI machine among them, and he'd used it to look at his plumbing once or twice. Now he set it and the other boxes back in the trunk of his car. Everything had been moved when the beautiful young woman had changed his tire. He felt himself blush, remembering her curvy body pressed against him eagerly. It was just a thank-you kiss, he kept reminding himself. He knew he was handsome, with his cleft chin and broad shoulders, Hollywood-style stubble and deep blue eyes like the sea, but he was also thirty-five, and that young woman didn't look a day over 21. He could technically be her father.
He looked at the pile of mail on his kitchen table. A letter from the electric company, a change of address confirmation, and an invitation to the local church. A man smiled grimly at him from the front of the flyer, a floating head with salt and pepper hair and empty brown eyes. Will had met the man at the diner, and he'd spoken curtly to him once Will let on he was not religious and had no intention of attending service regularly. He hadn't realized he was the only minister in town until much later, when a waitress laughed at the uneasy exchange between the two. That waitress had been pretty cute, and much closer to his age than the young woman who changed his tire. He sighed, trying to push her from his thoughts.
All that night and the next morning, however, he couldn't get her out of his mind. Every time he closed his eyes, her face was there, or the graceful curve of her thighs as she bent over the car; he almost gave his new receptionist a case file instead of a welcome packet. Sheila, a plump woman with dark green eyes and curly red hair piled on top of her round head, was understanding.
"I think the quiet kinda unsettles you city people, sometimes," She said kindly. "By now you'd have seen three patients already. Relax! You're so ahead, you could catch a nap and no one would notice."
It was true. Will had pulled up at 7:15 AM to open at eight. It was now eleven, and only a couple of curious seniors out for a walk had poked their head in. They had a single call, and it had been a wrong number. Will polished the shiny plaque reading WILLIAM STILLMAN on his desk twenty times before he forced himself to sit still. Trying to quiet his mind just brought the blonde woman back to the front of his mind, though, and then he was in a different kind of hell. He probably needed a hobby, he realized.
The phone on his desk buzzed then, and he jumped. "Hello!" He said eagerly as he punched the intercom button.
Sheila's amusement was plain. "We have a walk-in, doctor. I've got her in the system, insurance checks out and she's ready to go. She's in exam room one." There were only three exam rooms. Later in the month, another nurse would join the staff.
"Thank you," Will said quickly. He pulled on his glasses and headed out the door, walking down the short hall to the first exam room, where the patient's chart was sitting on the bare white door. He knocked briefly; a voice called "Come in!" and he pushed open the door.
"Cassidy Fole? I'm Dr. William Stillman," he said, glancing at the chart as he entered the room. The woman was sitting on the examination table, a broad grin slowly taking over her heart shaped face.
"Nice to make your acquaintance, Dr. William Stillman," The woman from the day before chirped. She held up her bandaged hand, showing that it was almost entirely darkened by blood. "Hope you don't mind if I ask for a touch up." She smiled, then blinked uncertainly as he stood there in silence. He had the distinct feeling of having been placed into a film. This just didn't happen in real life.
Will realized his heart was racing and he hadn't said anything after her last statement. He closed the door behind him, trying to gather his thoughts.
"I'm so sorry for that," he said hurriedly, pulling up a stool and. He started changing her bandage, feeling her eyes burn into him again as he spoke. "And I never got to thank you, Miss Fole. It's pretty embarrassed that some old doctor can't even change his own tire. You might have saved my life."
