Taylor is trying to figure out which lug nuts fit the part he’s working on while I’m busy sweating my ass off. It’s a little after lunch and the afternoon is already getting hot as hell. I don’t mind though. Roman doesn’t seem to either, as he struts around the shop with his shirt off and his little belly protruding proudly. I strip off my shirt and towel some of the sweat and oil from my body. It feels good to work hard. To work with my hands. I spent all morning wrestling the fucking water pump out of a Toyota, and my arms burn with the effort. Old man Hubert ran into his mailbox and jammed the thing into the engine block.

It’s a good exhaustion though. I’d take days like today over lazy days on the couch any time. Besides, I could use the distraction. I keep replaying Sandra’s face when I teased her about having a one night standl. Truth is I have no idea. I can’t fucking remember. I know one thing though, it wasn’t like I was carrying around a pack of condoms. If I fucked her… I rake a hand through my hair and sigh.

I expect to feel a sense of panic at the possibility. Knocking a girl up has never been in my plans. I wouldn’t give Roman up for the world, but he wasn’t in the plans, neither was having to marry his mother. I barely know Sandra. I mean, she was practically Tara’s shadow all those years, but it wasn’t like she and I ever talked alone. I grunted at her and she gave me unreadable looks. End of story.

Now she might be carrying my baby, and I should be fucking terrified. Except I’m not. I’d like to believe it’s just because I know it would solve a lot of my problems. I could probably convince her to marry me if she was having my kid. I’d meet the terms of my grandfather’s will. The shop would be protected from Mark’s efforts to turn this whole town into a strip mall. If that was all I cared about, I could understand it. I could accept that.

All this shit I’m feeling is more complicated though. Something about Sandra is driving me wild. I feel like a dog on a scent. I can’t get her out of my head. I can’t stop thinking about her. Worse, I can’t help feeling good about the idea that I might have gotten her pregnant. Marked her. Claimed her. Every time I think of her as mine, my chest swells with pride and a need to protect her.

Except that’s all just going to cause trouble. We shouldn’t be compatible. It seems like I end up somewhere between pissed off and turned on whenever I’m around her, and she has been driving me wild with the flirty smiles and the way she’s not afraid to mouth off at me. Whether we’re bad for each other or not, our bodies seem to have other plans.

I find Taylor working in a corner of my garage. He’s rubbing oil into a carburetor, looking down his long nose and squinting in concentration. I make sure Roman isn’t within earshot and then nudge Taylor, sitting on an overturned paint bucket beside him.

“Hey, Taylor,” I say quietly.

He quirks a blonde brow up, still focused on his task.

“You see me at the festival last night?”

“Sure,” he says. “I think everyone did.”

My stomach sinks a little. “What does that mean?”

He turns to look at me briefly, grinning. “You dragged Sandra Williams towards the lake and started yelling about skinny dipping.”

I fight the urge to laugh. This isn’t funny. Okay, it’s a little funny, but I probably shouldn’t make light of it. Regardless of what my dick has to say about the matter, getting involved with Sandra Williams is a complication I could probably do without. Even if it’s a complication that would un-complicate other areas of my life.

“Right,” I say. “Thanks.”

I cross the garage and flick Roman on the shoulder. He giggles, reaching to try to get me back, but I put a hand on his forehead. He swings his little arms after me, but doesn’t come close to reaching. I finally let him loose and he starts punching at my legs.

“Got me,” I say.

He smiles up at me.

“You ready for drum lessons?”

His eyebrows shoot up and he sprints toward the house to get his book of sheet music and drum sticks.

“Get that Toyota ready before I’m back, you hear?” I ask.

Taylor grumbles. “Will do.”

I start up the truck and watch as Roman scrambles out, trying to throw on a shirt with one handed while he clutches the drumsticks and book in the other. I help him get his shirt on and then get him strapped into his carseat.

“Daddy,” says Roman when we’ve been driving for a little while.

“What’s up, Bud?” I ask.

“Do you like Sandra?”

“No,” I say.

He makes a thoughtful sound, and like a little psychologist, kills me with his silence.

“A little,” I admit.

“I like her too,” he says quickly. “She’s pretty.”

“Yeah,” I say. “I won’t tell Lyla you were checking out another woman if you don’t tell Sandra I like her.”

Roman takes a second to think over the terms of our agreement. “Okay,” he says. “If you like her, will she be my mommy too?”

“Uh,” I say. “I don’t think it’s going to happen, but if Miss Sandra and I like each other a lot then yeah, she’d be your mommy too.”

He makes another thoughtful sound and then falls silent.

I’m closing up the garage a few days later when I hear raised voices from next door. I had to drop Roman off with Tara for the weekend already, so I decide to head over toward the sound. It’s coming from Sandra’s house, and I recognize one of the voices as hers. When I step up to the front porch I see a man’s figure. He’s gesturing and shouting something I can’t make out. When I hear the word “bitch” come from his mouth though, my blood boils.

I swing the door open and both Sandra and the guy fall silent. The guy is relatively thin. I take him in with one quick glance. Gelled hair combed back, proud features, narrow shoulders, a polo, and jeans rolled up to show boat shoes with no socks. I smirk. He has rich asshole written all over him. Judging from his thin arms, he hasn’t ever spent an honest day working, either.

“Who the fuck are you?” he asks me.

“David,” says Sandra warningly. “Don’t.”

“David?” I ask. I purse my lips. “I’m Sandra’s neighbor, and your shouting was disturbing me.”

He rolls his eyes, flashing white teeth. “Yeah? Well that’s too bad, buddy. I’m sure you probably have to get up and head to the office early tomorrow morning, right?” he asks, gesturing at my oil-stained shirt.

I extend my arm. It thuds into his chest and knocks him back. Anger flashes in his features and he purses his lips, looking like a petulant child who just had his toy snatched away. “That’s assault,” he says.

“You want to see assault?” I ask, advancing on him. “Try raising your voice to Sandra again. Then you’ll see what real assault looks like.”

He glares at me. “Do you have any idea who you’re talking to?”

“David,” I say. “Rich, self-important, scrawny asshole. Did I miss anything?”

“Guys,” says Sandra carefully. “Really--”

“Yeah,” interrupts David. “You missed my family name. David Cumberfield. Yes. The Cumberfields.”

I give him a blank look. “Fields of cum, okay. Got it.”

His face turns red so quickly that I laugh.

“Did I strike a nerve there, cum fields?”

“Mongoloid,” he growls.

I look to Sandra. “Please tell me this guy isn’t an ex or something.”

She rubs the back of her neck. “He’s an ex.”

“I don’t have to be,” he says to her, forgetting his anger at me for a moment.”

“Why don’t you get lost?” I ask, stepping between David and Sandra.

“Will you tell this barbarian to leave?” David asks Sandra.

“Yeah,” I say. “Why don’t you, Sandra? Tell me to leave.”

She looks between us, eyes slightly wide with panic.

“Oh, that’s right. She’s not asking me to leave because she’s fucking me now,” I say.

Sandra opens her mouth to speak, but I silence her with a glare.

“You… Really?” asks David in disbelief. “Alfred and Collette were right. Moving out here was a mistake. People like you and I can’t mingle with people like him.”

I’m surprised by how much that stings. Whether David is a worthless shit or not, I can’t help feeling some of the truth in his words. She is from a different world than me. It’s a world of careless living, idle play, and excess. My life couldn’t be any farther from that. Even if she was carrying my baby, what makes me think she would want me to play any part in it’s life?

I lick my lips, looking to Sandra, who can’t meet my eye. “Message heard. Loud and clear,” I say.

I turn to leave, fists clenched. I pause at the doorway.

“Did you forget how to--” starts David.

His words cut short when I turn and fire my fist into his mouth. His teeth cut my knuckles, but I find comfort knowing it hurts him more than it hurts me. His head kicks back and his legs crumple beneath him. He puts a hand slowly to his mouth, looking at the blood on his fingers.

“You chipped my tooth,” he says.

Sure enough, I see the half-circle missing from the bottom of one of his front teeth.

“Buy a fucking new one, Cum Fields,” I growl.