“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” I shook my head to clear it. “Just…just put me down. I’ll figure something out.”
Cletus deposited my feet on the ground but didn’t move away. “Did your daddy already leave?”
I nodded. My dad and brother would be on duty tonight. I had no desire to call them for a ride.
“That’s too bad. I meant to talk to him about the mail sorter down at the station. It’s due for maintenance. Do you happen to know if they’re having any troubles?”
Non-sequiturs and rapid subject changes weren’t unusual for Cletus, so I shook my head, having no idea what he was talking about. “I’m sorry, I have no idea.”
“Hmm… Well, what about your momma?”
“She’s visiting my aunt Louisa in Texas, who has cancer, so I don’t know how long Momma will be out there.” My teeth chattered and I glared at the monster truck.
Aunt Louisa had no children and had never been married. She’d lived alone in a huge house on a horse farm in Texas for the last fifteen or so years. My momma and I had visited for a few weeks every summer and I’d spent my entire summers during college keeping her company and running errands. Sometimes she’d come to our house for Christmas.
She was the kind of person who kept others at an arm’s length. Even after spending months with her, I never felt like I really knew her. But my momma and aunt were very close.
I heard Cletus sigh. With his arm still around my waist, he walked us both to his banjo case and picked it up. “Well, looks like you’re coming with me. Do you have a sweater or something?”
“Naw, Cletus. I don’t want to be a bother.”
His hand gripped me tighter. “Nonsense. You’re no bother. But I have to make a stop before I take you home. What about that sweater? A coat maybe?”
“I have a wizard cape in the truck,” I offered weakly. “I wouldn’t have driven it tonight if I thought the problem was this serious, I didn’t expect it to break down.”
“They never do.” Cletus grunted and kicked my driver’s side door shut; he then pushed me gently against it. “Hold still,” he said, placing his banjo back on the ground. He took off his red and black flannel jacket and handed it to me.
I thought about pushing it away, but something about his deadpan expression told me not to argue.
“Thanks, Cletus.”
“You’re welcome, Miss James.”
I frowned at the formal salutation. Cletus Winston was the third oldest of the Winston kids and was a full six or seven years older than me. “You can call me Jessica, you know.”
“Nope. You’re my teacher. It wouldn’t be fit.” He grabbed his banjo case in one arm, me with the other, and marched us to his car.
“Wait.” I glanced over my shoulder. “I didn’t lock the truck.”
Cletus shrugged. “I wouldn’t fret too much about it. In order for someone to steal the beast, they’d have to install a new engine.”
***
After the seventeenth switchback I lost count. Cletus was taking me up the mountain to check on a friend’s house before he could take me home.
We fell into a surprisingly companionable silence as he focused on navigating his Geo Prizm. That was also surprising—Cletus’s car choice. Here was a guy who worked on cars for a living. He, Duane, and Beau found old classics and fixed them up to sell at a hefty premium. According to my daddy, the Winston Brothers Auto Shop was doing gangbusters business.
And Cletus was driving a 1990 Geo Prizm painted primer gray.
I tried to use the quiet time to ponder my own car situation, figure out a solution. Instead I spent ninety-nine percent of my brainpower slapping away thoughts of Duane Winston and his tongue. He really did have a lovely tongue. Unlike most of my previous kiss-encounters, Duane seemed to be a man that actually knew what he was doing with his tongue. He used it in the most delightful ways.
I was a little stunned and disoriented when we pulled into a gravel driveway at the very top of the mountain and Cletus put the car in neutral to park.
“We’re here,” he said, engaging the emergency brake, the sound punctuating his words. “You should come with me. I don’t know how long I’ll be, and I don’t like the idea of leaving you in the car by yourself.”
I shrugged and looked around at the inky darkness. I had no idea where we were and couldn’t find my way back if my life and the future of chocolate hung in the balance.
“I’m sure I’ll be fine. Looks like there’s not another person out here for miles.”
“That may be,” he said, his eyes flickering over to mine before he twisted in his seat to pull out a large canvas bag from behind him, “but there are bears out here. This is a reliable car, but it won’t keep out bears.”
My eyes widened at the thought, and I quickly opened my door when he opened his. I followed him to a big house with a wraparound porch. All the lights were off.
“Whose house is this?” I asked, taking in the pretty white trim.