Fully Restored (6 page)

What??? NO MAKEUP? No, No, No. I looked at him and his beautiful face and said, oddly quiet for me, “No makeup?”

He nodded. “We’re starting on your disguise and all that makeup is the beginning.  Some makeup is good…some is a mask. You, babe, wear a mask. So, no makeup. Got it?”

No, I don’t but I nodded yes anyway and walked naked to his drawers and got a shirt. Silence is the loudest scream I have. He wouldn’t hear me anyway.

He lay in bed and watched the whole time. It should have been embarrassing but his constant smirk and smiling eyes made it so easy. For him, it seemed, anything was possible.

I took his shirt to the bathroom and opened his medicine cabinet, nosing around. “What’s the cologne you wear?” I yelled. He laughed.

“I wondered what you were doing in there. It’s just me babe. And I guess the shower stuff.” Damn him. I wanted everyone to smell him on me. If I couldn’t have makeup armor, I would have Brock armor. I turned around and he was standing there.

“I guess this means we’re showering?” he said. 

I nodded

“But no funny business,” he added. “I am dying as it is and you’re hungry. If we start, we’ll never get to breakfast.”  I smiled big, noting his extremely hard, red cock, and mentally drooled a little, then nodded, completely agreeing with him. If we started there would be no food, so as appetizing as he looked, I was going to reign it in. For a short time. After food, all bets were off. Brock smirked, knowing what I had been thinking. His cock jerked a little and a pearl of precum appeared at the tip. Drool. He reached around me, still smirking, and turned on the water. While we waited for the water to get warm, he held me close. It was perfect.

*****

We did as best we could, both of us desperately wanting more but in the end we just showered and fondled each other, soft caresses and sweet smelling soap making the entire thing amazingly heavenly. By the time he was dressed, in old comfy jeans that molded to his strong thighs and ass like a second skin and a tight black AC/DC shirt, and we had stopped at my house where I ran to get the first pants I could find and a brush to at least put my hair in a ponytail, it was well passed brunch and we settled on a local little restaurant for lunch.

As we walked across the restaurant I could feel the eyes of the other patrons following me. I could feel them judging me, thinking how ugly I am. I could feel them questioning what I was doing out without makeup on, how I was totally unworthy of the man I was with. I mean, logically I knew that the people really couldn’t care less about me and my makeup issue. But somehow, I couldn’t grasp that. I was beginning to shake, old fears coming to the surface, old wounds being reopened. Then I felt his arms surround me and his smell and warmth comforted me. I forgot about them. He leaned in and whispered in my ear, “You are so beautiful.”

The tightness I was feeling in my chest eased a little. Brock continued, whispering in my ear as we walked together, “See these people, they are in awe of you. It’s not every girl who can go out without makeup and look so stunningly fresh and beautiful. Everyone is jealous of me right now, walking with you on my arm.” His warm breath tickled my skin on my neck as he spoke quietly, just for me to hear. The more he told me about how he felt, the more I relaxed. I didn’t have to agree with him, but all signs were pointing to the fact that Brock really saw me differently.  Maybe he was right; maybe I did use my quirkiness as a mask. But now, with him, I was able to be me. I turned in his arms just before we sat down and kissed him. When I pulled back his eyes were smoldering, looking nearly black with need. He was so goddam hot. Maybe everyone was staring at him. They probably
were
wondering what he was doing with me. I shook off my insecurities knowing that Brock wouldn’t like the direction my thoughts had gone and kissed him quickly again before sitting down. I needed to stop thinking and food was the perfect distraction.

When Brock sat down, he didn’t sit across from me like my past boyfriends had. He sat with me, taking my hand in his and squeezing it, silently giving me strength to hold my head up.  I looked up and smiled, “I think I want pancakes.”

We sat and chatted about simple things while we waited for someone to come take our orders. Talking with Brock was easy, natural, like breathing. I liked it. I was sitting firmly on a happy cloud, basking in the warmth that was him, my sun, when the waitress broke in to take our order. Her makeup was too heavy and her eyes too bright and focused on Brock. She spoke to him, running her hands over her curves, flirting outrageously.

“Mornin’” she purred, her voice breathy and heated. She wanted Brock badly. How bold does a woman have to be to hit on a man while he is eating with another? I stared in shock, my face heating with anger. How dare she! Just when it seemed I had made a little progress on my self-esteem issues. Just when I was beginning to feel secure. Just when a few of the old wounds were healing over. It hurt.

“What can I get for you this morning?” she asked, speaking to Brock and only to Brock. “I can get you anything you want….” WHAT THE HELL? Was this a brothel? Brock looked up, shocked I think, at the woman’s bold statement. He smirked and lifted my hand, still held in his, to his mouth and kissed it.

“I don’t think there is anything you can give me that would be worth anything compared to my current choice. So, no, I don’t think we will be needing your ‘services’ this morning. I was hungry for food until you sauntered over, all bones and makeup. Maybe if you walked away, my appetite would come back. Let’s try that. You go away and get another server and I’ll see if I feel like eating again when that person gets here. You do it now and I won’t tell your boss he is paying you for more than serving food.”

The waitress pulled back, shocked. Her face had contorted into something resembling the “Scream” mask.  Had I thought she was pretty? I take that back. She glared at me, as if this was my fault. Turning to Brock she said, “You’re a dick. No wonder you’re with this… slag. I wouldn’t serve you if you were the last man here.” Turning on her heels, she stomped away, presumably to send us another server.

As I watched her stomp her way across the restaurant, looking uncannily like a toddler throwing a fit, I could feel Brock’s body start shaking. He was laughing! I turned to him and looked up. He was trying so hard to not burst.  I smiled then, egged on by his face and his controlled laughter, I started giggling as well. That caused him to lose it. By the time the new waiter had made it to us, both Brock and I were laughing so hard we had tears and I had an ache in my side.

After some work to end the laughing, we turned to the new staff, and nearly lost it again. The new waiter was the most outrageously gay man I had ever seen.  He was slightly effeminate in his looks, but it was his hilarious outfit that got to me. He was wearing a t-shirt that had a rainbow unicorn on it that said “yeah… I am that gay”. Seriously. I decided I needed this guy in my life. If my make-up was my disguise (according to Brock), then this guy would certainly understand that, he had his own disguise.

“I see you met our town bicycle.” He stated with a smirk.

Brock and I lost it again.

“Seriously though, everyone has had a ride on that one. Well… except me. I have standards.”

Brock snorted, “Yeah, that’s why.”

The guy smiled, “I didn’t say my standards applied to her. You on the other hand….” He moaned. Brock snorted and a blush spread up his neck and face. I turned to the guy, “I’m Teagan, this is Brock, and you are my new best friend. Just saying.”

The guy laughed, “I’m Seth, and who would turn down a friendship with you. Besides, if I hang with you, will you bring him around so I can stare?” he had a half smile and one eye-brow lifted, suggesting even though he was joking, it was still a true statement. “Anyways, enough flirting. What can I get you today?”

Laughing, I smiled at him and we placed our orders. He was a truly great guy. Whenever he stopped by to check on us, I struck up a conversation as best I could. He was a riot. Even Brock was laughing and having fun by the end of the meal.   We exchanged numbers so we could hang out after work since it seemed the shop was nearby. I ended up completely forgetting about my lack of makeup and hair and having a blast with my man and my new friend. Who knew?

After breakfast, instead of walking me to the truck, we walked to the shop and straight to the ‘Cuda. “What are we doing with
Phoebe?”
I asked.

He smirked. “Fixing her.”

Chapter Five

Brock

T
he look on her face when I told her that was priceless. I told her to pop the hood and she said the latch didn’t work and to just lift. Well… if that wasn’t a sign I didn’t know what was. “This is the same car as your dad’s ‘Cuda right?” I asked, because if it was, parts just became so much easier. “Yeah... we’re kinda a MOPAR family, so in reality, this is
Christine
junior.” She shrugged.

I leaned onto the hood and reached under and sure enough, the hood just opened right up. No good.  However, after looking over the interior and engine compartment, I changed my mind. She was perfectly clean and primered, ready to be block sanded and smoothed for her top coat.

“Did you do this?” I asked.

She blushed. “I’ve done small things, but nothing I need to get the engine lift for because I can’t use it myself.  I need another, stronger, person for the sanding, and I’m not making my dad rebuild the same car. This one is gonna kick his
Christine’s
pretty yellow ass. I need to finish her body then start from the bottom up.”

I laughed and started planning in my head. “Where does your dad keep the spare ‘Cuda parts?”

She laughed. “Spare? As in, he forgot he had already ordered them and had too many, those parts?”

Smiling at our luck, I nodded. “Over here,” and she took my hand as we walked to the back of the building to a small room filled with new, but technically old, ‘Cuda parts. I was in heaven. She could see it. “Go for it. Look and take what we need.” We. She just said we. She admitted that we were doing this car together.  I don’t think I could smile any wider.

*****

I was knee deep in restoration heaven. This girl had a car out under a carport, just sitting there, almost ready for fucking paint, waiting, and all these parts in here just sitting?  How does that happen? Disguises, that’s how. Someday I was going to figure out what had caused her to hide herself from the world in the first place.

I started to pull out pieces I knew we would need first, until I realized I needed to have a talk with a certain someone who had run and hidden when the door had opened. On my hunt for Teagan, I began to think maybe she only wanted to build it with her dad, and he wasn’t doing that. But then I shot that down because he catered to her every need. So I needed to know why all the parts she needed were there but nothing had ever been done.
Phoebe
was just sitting out there rusting. I was frustrated with this whole situation. I knew that something was holding her back from completing this car, and I had a feeling that something was the same thing that had caused her to retreat into her disguise in the first place. If not, it definitely had something to do with it. I needed answers and I knew she wasn’t going to give them up easily. I was going to have to work to get the answers I needed. She was beginning to open up to me, but even I knew this would be asking a lot awfully fast. After all, we were just starting, and although I knew what I wanted and that was here, I could see she was still struggling with the idea. There was also the distinct possibility that I was the reason for her mask, for her withdrawing and hiding issues, and I didn’t want to have to face that any sooner than I had to.

At the restaurant it was easy to read the insecurity in her face. She felt open and raw and, somehow, unworthy of me. I didn’t get that one bit. I needed answers now and somehow I was going to start getting them. As painful as the truth may be, we needed to start letting it out. I stood, dusting off my pants, and went in hunt of my missing car girl. I had an idea of how to get some answers. She was about to see the real me. Oh no, no sex, but yes… there will be screaming. The good kind.

When I finally found her curled up in the corner I knelt down and started to ask what the problem was but she beat me to it.

Teagan

When he found me curled up in the corner of the back repair room and knelt so lightly to ask me what my problem was, I finally felt the urge, no, need to give a little. I never talked with anyone about my “issues”. Hell, my dad didn’t even know the whole story. In opening up right now, I knew Brock would see the real me.  A piece of that mask, my disguise, as he would say, would crumble away. And as much as it scared me, I knew I needed to do this. I really liked Brock. I wanted this, whatever we had started, to continue and I knew he wouldn’t if I kept hiding from him. He wasn’t the kind of guy to allow his partner to keep secrets from him.  So I told him.

“My dad and I built all our cars together. It was our bonding time. When I was younger and really battling depression, my dad handed me the welder and mask and said “get to work”. When the depression worsened, he added parts and electrical wiring. And eventually, the depression wasn’t so much there as was the enjoyment of working on cars with my dad. He had taught me a distraction technique.  It became a thing that we did together. Moms and daughters shop and chat, I didn’t have that so my dad did the only thing he knew how. He taught me cars.

So, car building in my head is a partner job; a job for two people to do together to bond. 
Phoebe
has just been sitting because the correct partner had not been found.  When I let you look in the engine, and took you to the spare parts room, I realized I had just let someone in. You. Somehow, that small part of me that has been hiding, was willing to see you as a partner for the car and share that with you and it scared the shit out of me.”

He waited patiently and I eventually continued, “It meant that this,” I pointed back and forth between us, “Was real. That scared the shit out of me because I don’t know what you are doing with me. You could have so much more, but you’re hanging with me.  I just don’t get that, I guess, and I want it. Terribly. The fact that I want it scared me, so I ran. Because I do want this Brock. I want you badly, and it is so soon. It scares me,” I stopped and looked at his beautiful face. I could see the banked heat smoldering in his eyes. Deciding to risk it, I leaned forward and kissed him.

Brock quickly decided that wasn’t enough and lifted me from the floor by my arms and held them tightly above my head while he savagely kissed my mouth. He kissed me like he owned me, which, I guess now that I had sorta kinda told him I wanted him, he did. So we kissed, hard, until we were grinding against each other to get closer and more friction. It was impossible but a beautiful impossibility. When we stopped and came up for air he said, “I’m glad that you told me all that on your own because otherwise I was going to have to get inventive and weasel it out of you. Now, I get to get inventive to reward you. So. Much. Better.” His eyes were dark with lust as he spoke to me. His breathing still coming fast from our making out.  “Now, let’s go start with that ‘Cuda. We’ve got to make a list of what we have and what we need.”

Well, I wasn’t expecting that. I think my shock at his change in attitude showed on my face because he reached up to cup my cheek in his hand, gently, and in a quiet voice told me, “Beautiful, you are worth more than a fuck against a wall in a dirty repair room.” My legs almost gave out. He still thinks I am beautiful. He doesn’t know just how fucked up it is inside my head.

*****

Two hours later and covered in dust and grease we had quite the list. It seemed my dad over ordered everything. Basically, I had pretty much everything I would need for this rebuild already sitting here.

I would have thought he had purposefully over ordered all of these parts and changed engines and seats so much for me, if I had not witnessed the “try to return multiple ordered” parts conversations on the phone so many times. By the time we had that list, it was down to where to begin. The bottom up. Well, really, make sure the body is good, then bottom up. Being a weekend, it was hard to want to do anything at work, but being with Brock made it better. So today was a body day. In the short amount of time I have known Brock, the car had gone from sitting and rusting to having a name and a purpose. She had a name. That alone was a huge step.  Together, it seemed, we were going to get
Phoebe
running again.

*****

We stepped back from the car, having spent an entire afternoon off doing what we would be doing again for money on Monday, with huge smiles on our faces. It didn’t feel like work with Brock. It felt like with him around, maybe I could stop and enjoy the job a little now.
Phoebe
was still a mess, yes, but she was my mess, and I had a partner and we would get her done. Then, we would take her to the track and kick some ass. I couldn’t wait for that. The thrill of racing at high speed down the straightaway in a car that I built. Not many people could say or do that.

We walked back to the truck and Brock drove directly to his house instead of stopping at mine.

“Um, hello, still here!? Did you forget something?”

His deep laugh resonated throughout the truck and he looked over at me, smirking while he parked. He got out and walked around to open my door. I went to get out when all the sudden I found myself upside down again staring at his ass. I giggled as he jogged into the house. I guess not. I apparently wasn’t going home today.  I was unreasonably happy with this new direction, it meant I got to look at his ass again.

I let him do as he pleased, carrying me into the house and to the bathroom to run a bath. He set me down on the counter and went to look under the sink, producing a random bottle of bath oil and grease soap. I looked at my hands and laughed. They were nearly black with grease and dirt from our day working. We went to work on our hands while the tub filled up, bubbles and all. Who knew?   Once we had most of the oil and grease off and were left with just dirt, he led me to the tub, stripped us both gently, then got in and pulled me in front of him. I relaxed almost instantly into him, my body tired from last night and working through our whole day. When he started massaging my muscles gently, working out the aches from climbing under cars and in odd positions, I melted further. The combination of him, the warm water, and the bubbles was heavenly. I would fall asleep were it not for the underlying sexual tension in the air. I could feel that he wanted me and I know it wasn’t just water wetting me between my legs. I also knew he was in charge at the moment. If he had wanted to go further, we would. Instead he was allowing me time to relax.

When he had massaged every part of me, thoroughly I might add, and I was still shaking from the thoroughness of his massaging, he let the water out and gently picked me up to wrap me in a massive black towel.  I guess dudes like their towels big. This thing swallowed me. He quickly patted me dry and carried me to his bed. He gently placed me on it and collapsed next to me, pulling the covers up over us as he settled in.

“Got a lot done today,” I heard him mutter with his face in the pillow. “Tomorrow is Sunday, more
Phoebe
or something else? We can do anything. Lady’s choice.”

His voice was gruff and full of sleep. It wrapped around me like a blanket, easing my sore soul. I closed my eyes and snuggled into the comforter a little and smelled him around me while I thought. The idea of more
Phoebe
or a day of anything?  Shyly, I asked, “You mean stay in or work on
Phoebe
, right?”

His head shot up off the pillow. The look on his face was like thunder, “Not that the idea of staying in bed with you all day is a bad one, but what in the hell led you to think that I only want you in those two places? Did we, or did we not, go out to breakfast this morning?  I want to be with you all the time. Once I get behind this mask of yours, I plan on being with you all the time in and out of public. So now, pick, what do YOU want to do?” he reiterated.

I laid back in the bed, smelling him and smiling, giggling and wiggling my toes in his bed. I was happy. I don’t know that I had even felt this happy before. This...free. I leaned over and reached behind me and crawled up him slowly, kissing his chest as I moved.  I kissed his face and lips; his ears and neck were not left alone at all. By the time I had him squirming with want below me, I could feel how much he wanted me, and I am sure there was a trail of evidence of my own desire. Even I could smell myself, my want of him. Just when I had him moaning for me, panting in want, I grabbed the pillow and smacked him straight in the face.

“Gotcha!” I yelled, as he reached for another pillow and I scrambled off the bed and across the room.

“So that’s how it is huh? A pillow fight? I can take that. Bring it Steele, I can take you.”

He was laughing more than I had ever seen, and that was saying something considering our laugh fest at the restaurant this morning. He was really letting loose and letting me see the fun not so serious side of him. He’s always such a man, with his fierce protection of the people who matter and his give everything attitude. He spent so much of the day working so hard. Now, with feathers in the air, our hair, everywhere, we fell to a heap breathing hard and laughing harder. Just lying there and taking the moment in. It was a perfect moment.

In a silent moment, after the feathers landed and we had regained our breath I heard him whisper, “A crack”. I knew what he meant, and he was right, that was the real goofy me. But this time I countered with “You too”. He nodded and gathered me up for a hot kiss. When he finally pulled away, he stared at me, “Where did you come from Beautiful?”

I looked at him, “I never left. I’ve been here since birth and will probably be here until I die.”

He shook his head, “Not what I meant, I meant how did I come out of the shittiest existence and stumble into you. What did I do to deserve you? Nothing. But here you are, and I don’t intend to let you go.”

I looked at him in shock. Here I was thinking I didn’t deserve him, and he was thinking the same thing? Brock got up and started putting on clean clothes. “As tired as I am, and as much as I want to take you to bed, we need to eat and as you learned this morning, there is a severe lack of food in this house. Get up, we’re going out.”

A short time later we were driving to my house again, and I was again in his boxers and shirt. It wasn’t until I was home and getting dressed that I realized I hadn’t even thought about my lack of makeup once since the restaurant.  I threw on some kickass jeans and left his shirt on so I smelled of him. I ran a brush through my hair, making sure it looked glossy and straight, but not styling it. I put on a sheen layer of lip gloss and, grabbing a light jacket, went to meet him by the door. I didn’t even stop to consider putting on makeup because I knew Brock would say something about it. When I was with him I felt beautiful anyway.

When we were ready, we drove to the small downtown area and left the truck to walk the streets. Him and me. Him holding my hand. I was giddy with happiness. I couldn’t stop myself from looking at him the whole time. Finally he turned a corner and threw me against the building, binding my hands above my head with his and my body to the wall with his hips. “If I see you doubt me or us again, I will punish you later. I mean it.” With that, he kissed my nose, took my hand and walked off as if nothing had happened. My panties were soaked. Ruined. That was the single hottest moment in my life.

We walked along the old main street for a while browsing the windows and goofing off in a millinery. We played around and tried on every hat in the shop.  As evening progressed and our legs grew tired, our voices hoarse from hours of laughter, I leaned over, in front of everyone, and kissed him.  I kissed him hard and like he was mine, because he was. I kissed him because I had had a lot of time that day to think about opportunities. So many opportunities pass us up, every day, they fly by and we either don’t notice or care. We don’t take hold. And then later we sit in our same spot complaining that no one ever came to help us and that “poor me” I need more opportunities. Well, I was done being that person. No more missed opportunities. So I took mine and he answered right back. This was an opportunity I was not going to miss out on.