The Country Duet(31)
“Any reason why?” Frank asks.
“Yes, Dad.” She throws her arms up in the air. “He was oiling my piston while cranking up his drive shaft.”
Son of a bitch. She didn’t just say that. I was feeling guilty for a taking a call on my shift, and now I’m totally busted oiling the boss’s daughter’s piston.
“Get back to work,” he grits out between clenched teeth.
Teale glides right past him with no care in the world, leaving me alone with her pissed off father. I’ll deal with her later. Maybe I'll bend her over my knee and smack her perfect, plump ass. It's not the right time to be thinking of this, man.
“Any reason your phone is shattered in my shop and your hat is stomped to the ground?” The veins in his neck throb.
“I was dealing with Dave’s insurance. Sorry, shouldn’t have taken the call while on the clock.”
He dips his chin, knowing all about Dave. The men around the shop, including Teale, love hearing the latest stories. Most of the time they think I’m bullshitting them with wild tales, but every single thread is honest to God true.
“I can respect that, but you having my daughter locked in the parts room is another thing.”
“I’m sor…”
He cuts me off, holding a hand up. “I’m no fool. Know what you two have been up to, but not in my garage or on my time clock.”
I drop my face, feeling like a toddler who was just caught with his hand in the cookie jar. It’s entirely accurate.
“Teale is just getting her life back together. You’re good for her, but I don’t want to see her broken again.”
“I understand and would never hurt her.”
“There’s things she’ll probably never tell you about her past. Are you going to be okay with that?”
“I’ve come to grips with it, yes.”
“Get back to work.”
I do without hesitation. Teale keeps her beautiful little ass in the office the rest of the afternoon and evening. Going to school until three or four then working until eleven at night is beginning to take its toll on me. When it comes down to money, Dave costs me more than I’m making and the work here at the shop is barely enough to cover the cost of living.
Mom’s still insistent on putting money in my bank account, and I still refuse. The only thing keeping me grounded is Teale. Her father’s warning rolled over in my head while working. Our foundation is shit, and I fear that fact will come back to bite me in the ass. But it’s the one bright spot in my life right now.
Chapter 14
Hunter
“If you talk bad about country music, it's like saying bad things about my momma. Them's fightin' words.” –Dolly Parton
It’s getting worse. Every time I come to Dave’s, there’s shit strung from one side of the house to the other. He’s not making it to the bathroom and doesn’t seem to have a problem with it. I’ve learned not to gag and just get it cleaned up.
Dave was pissed when I packed him out to the shop, claiming it was too damn windy to be outside. I bit my tongue to not argue with him that we would be inside. I’m adamant that getting him up and out is doing good for his spirits. He’s a different man when in the shop even though he sits and watches me work.
He’s held his words back about bossing me around and double checking my work.
“Here.” I toss a box of junk metal in front of him. “Sort this shit.”
He grumbles and growls, shoving the box away. “This isn’t shit. I used to go to every farm auction around.”
“Yeah.” I fire up the welder, laying out my work in front of me.
“That’s where I got all those old wagon wheels then one day decided to spray paint them white and weld them together.”
“You know people are paying good money for that shit now and some of the other antiques on your place.”
“Good for them,” he grunts. “They ain’t getting mine.”
I flip down the shield on my welding helmet and turn my back on the old, grumpy bastard and get lost in my work. Dave gave me the go ahead to start restoring an old Allis Chalmer WD45 John Deere model A. Shockingly, it’s not in that rough of shape, but definitely needs some tender loving care. Inside I cringe in disgust, knowing he’s going to insist on painting it green and yellow even though those aren’t the original colors. It doesn't matter the brand, he paints everything green and yellow.
Dave has a solid theory that anything green or yellow goes for more money. He’s on a mission to ride John Deere’s coattails. The only problem is the gallons and gallons of green and yellow paint are far from John Deere colors. They’re a hideous shade of green and yellow. Shit, he had me spray paint a cattle chute in these colors persistent it would bring more money. The damn thing is so run down it’s only worth the scrap metal left in it.
“Need to take some pain meds.” Dave gets out between coughs.
“Okay, let me pick up real quick.”
Dave’s on hydrocodone constantly to help ease the pain. Since his stay in the nursing home, the pain has been getting worse. He moves slower, if that’s even possible. He groans when I lift him up into my arms. The simple action is inflicting so much pain into his arthritic bones.