Joy Repair by Angie M Brashears

Author:Angie M Brashears [Brashears, Angie M]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-05-27T16:00:00+00:00

5

Unshouldering a backpack that Mayguyver would envy, he looks around my bungalow. “Okay if I set up at the kitchen table?”

I’m caught staring and attempt to recover. “Sure. It’s out-of-bounds weird to have someone over. Before all this, I wasn’t much of an entertainer.”

“Totally understandable. I just need the ah…tool,” he prods.

“Right away.” Holy shit, I hope there’s a bleach wipe left.

Surrounded by wires and tiny tools, it looks like he’s about to perform surgery. Before he starts, he offers some encouragement. “If it’s any consolation, you picked the top of the line. Even under extreme use, it should’ve lasted longer than a couple months.”

Cringing, I can’t believe we’re talking about this.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that you were a heavy user or anything.”

Is he waiting for an answer?

“My modesty went out the door when I let you in. Just take good care of her. That’s my entire Stimulus check you’re working on.”

“I’ll be gentle.”

Mmmm. “I’m sure you will.”

Hands clasped, I’m not only staring, but micromanaging.

“Where are my manners? I’m going to have a Gatorade. You want one?”

His eyes are huge behind the safety glasses. “No, really. Save the supplies for yourself. Sides, I’ve got a jug of water out in the truck.”

I wave him off. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ve got plenty. Once Disneyland closed, shit got real for me. Something in the air, I don’t know but I started setting a little aside. I wasn’t hoarding, if that’s what you’re thinking. Just enough that I always have enough rations for two.”

He doesn’t need your life story! Let the poor guy work.

“Excuse me.”

The air from the fridge cools my hot cheeks. When did I become such a Chatty Cathy? Feels like I’ve lost the art of socializing, although not sure I had it before.

Hey, this is not social hour. He’s working hard trying to fix your vibrator. Act accordingly.

Wavering, I end up grabbing a drink for him too anyway.

“You sure? Okay thanks.” He chugs the whole thing while I’m still trying to get the cap off mine.

“Here, give it.” One quick twist, but he holds the bottle a second too long.

“You said two. Are you quarantining alone?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Good.” He lets go of the sports drink when I gently tug.

A smile sneaks up on me. Did he say good?

Whistling, he pulls the back panel off. For such big hands, he’s mighty dexterous. I find him more fascinating than any reruns on T.V. “Okay if I sit?”

“Sure.”

Chin propped on my hands, I’m interested. “Wow, what’s that?”

“A screwdriver.” He scoffs.

Shaking his head, the laughter dries up when he looks into my haggard eyes. “Been awhile?”

“Yikes. That’s a little personal. But it’s okay. I haven’t had sex for about six months.”

A whistle escapes between his white teeth. “Not since the lockdown started? That’s rough.” Then it’s him who’s blushing. “Sorry to hear about your troubles. But I meant the vibrator. Has it been broke awhile?”

Oh my God. Embarrassed, I try to recover.

I uncross my legs and open my thighs. “Why, does it show?”

Didn’t think that one through.

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