Worship And Other Love Rituals

Chapter 3

I got so exhausted but decided to tackle one more task before calling it a night. Bessie ( Leo gave it a name a long time ago) had been through a lot on the journey. With a sigh, I climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine.

Silence. Not even a cough or a sputter. Just a depressing click from the starter motor.

"Wonderful... Just wonderful," I muttered. This was exactly what I needed on my first night in this spooky old cottage - car trouble. You'd think a minivan would be reliable transportation, but apparently not this one. I patted the dash affectionately. "It's okay Bessie, it's not your fault. You've given me many miles of faithful service."

I glanced around the garage full of dust, taking in all the clutter. Old cans of paint crowded a workbench covered in tool marks. A lawnmower and hedge trimmer leaned forlornly in the corner. Cobwebs draped gracefully from the single dim light bulb dangling on a cord. It was the perfect setting for an Agatha Christie mystery, if the victim was my sanity.

Pushing open the heavy door, I wrestled Bessie into her final resting place. Or maybe just her temporary sick bed until we figured out what was wrong. As I leaned my head glumly on the steering wheel, I imagined myself cozied up on the lumpy couch with a pot of tea, watching the rain patter softly on the windows. A relaxing night indoors while professionals handled whatever the hell was wrong with the vehicle. A girlish fantasy, to be sure.

That's when I heard it. A deep voice like bourbon and smoke, pulling me from my reverie. "Looks like you're having car troubles, miss."

I whirled around so fast- I almost gave myself whiplash. Leaning casually in the open doorway was a tall drink of water the likes of which I'd never seen. Hair the color of wheat, tanned skin stretched taut over rippling biceps. He was like one of those half-naked lumberjack calendars, come to life specifically to torment me. He looked younger than me. But my heart said: this guy was trouble but a hot one!!

"Name's Ethan. Mind if I take a look under the hood?" He flashed a white-toothed grin that should have come with a government health warning. I'm quite sure my throat made an undignified sound somewhere between a squeak and a groan. Get ahold of yourself, Clara! I took a breath.

"Sure, be my guest. I'm Clara. And this car... is called Bessie." I popped the hood to reveal the mechanical carnage within. Ethan leaned over the engine, poking and prodding with practiced precision of a man. The motion caused his t-shirt to ride up ever so slightly, exposing a sliver of tanned lower back. I looked hastily away, feeling like a schoolgirl with a crush. Get it together, woman! There are more constructive things to focus on than a neighbor's physique.

"Aha!" Ethan proclaimed triumphantly. He held up a loose cable end, frayed and spitting sparks. "Battery cable's had it. An easy fix." He dug in the toolbox, biceps flexing deliciously, and retrieved a wrench. As he tightened the connection, our hands brushed past for a mini second. My heart skipped. Pull yourself together, Clara! You're too old for this foolishness.

We climbed into Bessie and tried the ignition. With a satisfying roar, the old girl sputtered to life. "There ya go!" Ethan beamed, wiping grease-stained hands on a red rag. "Good as new."

Ethan gave a modest shrug. "It was just a loose cable. No big deal."

I raised an eyebrow. "Says the man who fixed it in five minutes. You must get calls like this all the time."

"Now and then." His eyes crinkled with amusement. "There's always someone in need of a jumpstart or a spare tire change. Keeps me busy."

"And here I am complaining about being tired," I sighed.

"What a shame. I was looking forward to watching some classic horror movies tonight. Instead, I'll need a new battery cable...and possibly some new batteries. Oh well, can't let them down every year." I shook my head sadly. "You know what they say; when in Rome, do as the romans do."