Hush My Demons (Daryl Dixon Love Story.)

Chapter One: Unexpected Guests

Slowly revving the motorcycle's engine; Anna Rose straddled her legs onto the ripped leather of the ragged seat. Her father laid his hand firmly upon her shoulder, giving his usual cheeky smirk.

"You're turning me into a total grease Monkey, Dad." Anna uttered, frustratingly. She rolled up the sleeves of her jacket as the Georgia heat furiously cooked them. When she peered up, the sunlight emphasized her narrow eyes. They were the color of unvarnished oak, decorated with deep mahogany flecks.

He bellowed out a laugh, scrubbing his sweaty, wrinkled forehead with a shop rag. "You're going to have to learn the inner workings of these things. When I'm gone. Passed away, I expect you to keep our legacy goin'. Eventually you will take over this place," he eyed her, "Greasy or not." He soon kneeled down, examining his 1969 Harley Davidson, carefully polishing it.

Anna twitched the corners of her mouth into a smile and nodded, slightly. "You got oil on my sundress." She rolled her eyes with attitude.

His calloused hands were covered in motor oil with hunks of dirt caked underneath his fingernails. "Oh yeah?!" Her father giggled and rubbed his hands all over her flawless cheeks.

"No! Gross! Don't!" His daughter pleaded. She didn't even hesitate to hop off of the bike. She lunged forward, tackling him as they tumbled with a thud. They occasionally laughed as they played.

Their relationship blossomed ever since her mother passed away, they've grown closer and developed a healthy father-daughter friendship.

Quickly they stood up and shuffled to their feet and giggled. The both of them grabbed their stomachs from the hurt of laughing too hard. Although her sun dress was blackened with grease and soot. He looked to the side with slight discomfort as a few minutes passed. Anna swept her tangled hair behind her ears; a wild mess of ebony black waves. It reminded him of Rosalie, his wife. "You're Mother would be so proud." Sighing he brushed off some dirt.

Crossing her arms, she shifted awkwardly. Anna bit her lower lip, blinking her eyes as they welled up a bit. But, with a finger she swabbed them away almost instantly. Grieving was one thing. Anna never could cry in front of her father.

"I miss her," she whispered. Her mother's death changed their lives. Anna had never seen a bottle of alcohol in her home, until that dreadful call filled the house with despair. Her father found a sense of peacefulness in the liquor he drowned in.

"Aye boss, Uh, Merle and his brother are back again." Theo; an old wise repairman, with a heavy New York accent peered into the room. Pure irritation destroyed his expression.

The father grumbled, but acknowledged him."Alright," he glanced down, grabbing another cloth to cleanse his hands, "tell 'em I'll be-"

"-No, Daddy," she interrupted, "let me handle this one." Immediately, Anna clutched onto his arm wanting to stop him.

He looked slightly concerned, "You sure?"

"Of course," she said pleased. "I need to practice these things, I mean. Like you said, I'll be leading this rusty old shop one day. Let me get my hands dirty!" She pulled her lips into a half smile, twisting up her long ruffled hair into a messy frizzed bun.

"Oh, so now you ain't afraid of a little mud?" He rudely teased.

"Don't even..." Anna scoffed. In her arrogant triumph, she smirked. Just a small pouting of the lips; a narrowing of the eyes and a tilting of the head. It was so subtle and filled with attitude.

"Ugh," Dominic scratched his scraggy greying beard that climbed his face like clumps of moss on a dry rock. He was full of skepticism. But, as a minute passed, he finally came to an understanding.

"Alright, Ms. Rose; Just be cautious of Merle. I wouldn't trust him to easily." He dropped his hands and hunched over his shoulders in defeat, realizing that his 'little' girl was finally taking charge. Her father awarded her with a proud look, "Good luck", he said sarcastically, before handing her the dirtied cloth as he proceeded to his office.

××××××××××××

Merle Dixon. What a bastard, she thought. Sure he was a valued customer. But hell was he bitchy.

She started out for the front of the shop, scanning the room. Her heels clicked loudly at each step, wandering through the loads of boxes and junkyard parts with a clipboard in hand. The shop mimicked a warehouse more than anything Anna had ever seen before. Machines that were ripped apart and dissected had decorated the floor with nuts and bolts. There were row upon row of stainless steel shelving lined with a vast array of tinned and boxed metal goods. They had everything you could want; so long as you wanted to purchase in bulk.

Anna she noticed a couple of men groggily standing beside of their bikes. Must have been brothers. One of 'em chewed relentlessly at a wad of tobacco that filled his bottom lip; the corners of his eyes were crinkled like a paper bag along with his thin, scruffy peppered hair. With his hands propped at his hips, his fiery eyes pierced her soul.

Well, this should be fun, right?

The other man was shorter in height. With a sleeveless shirt torn at the edges, the strands of fabric hung over his husky arms. His tousled murky brown hair; thick and lustrous. It sparsely masked his face.

The man's eyes were a mesmerising deep ocean color. His face was strong and defined, like features molded from pure granite. The brother's dark eye brows, which sloped downwards in a serious expression matched his lips that were drawn into a hard line across his face. Oh, they were ripe for the kissing. And them strong hands, slightly rough from working. She couldn't help but blush.

A fatal attraction; he was.

×××