It's her eighteenth birthday, and we're heading to our favorite spot. Where the hell has the last year gone, anyway?

I can't stop thinking about it as we drive, the roads flanked by beauty, like entering a real life oil painting.

The trees have become a fiery band of red, orange, and yellow between Marquette, Split Harbor, and the surrounding counties. The hues near the Armitage Lighthouse are so beautiful they're almost blinding. It's late August, and autumn has come early to Michigan's Upper Peninsula. Almost like nature decided to give my girl her finest before she leaves for college next week.

Too bad they've got nothing on the hottest woman alive in the seat next to me, clutching the leather purse I worked my ass off to get her close to her chest. It's hunter green – her favorite color – a forest shade that fits her eyes.

“Why doesn't this get old, Ryan?” she whispers, laying her head against my shoulder. “How many times have we been here this year? About a dozen?”

“Not enough,” I say, reaching for her hand while I pull into a parking space at the little park attached to the historic site. “The summer flew by. Think we only came here once between work and graduation.”

She smiles knowingly. “I'm glad I slowed things down. I would've missed a lot leaving for Ann Arbor too soon.”

“Yeah, you would've missed the hell out of hanging with your boyfriend.” I give her the smirk that always makes her cheeks turn red, the same with a magic power to drench her panties. “And I would've hauled my ass down to your college every other week, just to put anybody stupid enough to come sniffing around you in his place.”

“Nice save.” She smiles, just as I cut the engine on my old Ford LTD. I got the car last year on a bargain after her dad helped me fix it up, and it's served me well ever since. “Better do something about the jealous tick. You're going to have to get used to me living on my own.”

“We talked about this already,” I remind her, a low growl rising in my throat. “I'll live with it, I'll support everything you do, but I don't have to like it. You're making room for me in that little dorm whenever I come down.”

She nods, still wearing that kissable smile, squeezing my hand. “Let's go! I want to see the upper deck before the rain blows in.”

Kara isn't kidding. Perfect sun beams highlight the glorious foliage on the way in. They won't last forever, judging by the dark clouds on the horizon. We've got thirty or forty minutes before it leaves Superior and hits the shore, if we're lucky.

Plenty of time for what I've got planned.

She hugs my arm like she always does while I lead her up the narrow metal steps, high into the lighthouse. This place is a hundred years old. It'd be derelict and falling apart without the Drayton's charity, preserving the piece of history that put our town on the map before the railroads and mining left their mark.

“Just beautiful.” She releases a long, wistful breath as soon as we're at the top of the stairs on the observation deck.

The old light at the top was gutted a long time ago, leaving visitors more space to walk around and look out to sea. It's a quiet day, just like I expect. Most families are distracted, rushing their kids to school, changing gear for the seasons, too busy to take one last trip to the lighthouse before they return in a few weeks for peak fall colors.

“It always is,” I tell her, leading us to the huge glass window overlooking Superior. “We're coming back every time there's a few days to spare. Don't think either of us can live too long without these familiar waters.”

She smiles and nods. I'm dead serious about seeing her as much as I can, bringing her home on weekends. I'll drive all seven hours a thousand times if it means making the spark we've lit the last two years burn brighter.

I'm still at Bart's Auto. Earning about two extra bucks an hour than I did when I started. It's a living, enough to afford the one bedroom apartment in the duplex I'm renting on the edge of town.

Half the time, I'm too damned tired to hit my coding as hard I should when I get home after work and the gym. It's a dangerous rut, threatening to spoil my dreams, one lazy evening at a time.

No, I haven't given up. I never will until I've had my day in the sun, and accomplish something great, but I've learned to pace myself. There's another reason wild riches and success don't mean as much anymore, and she's standing right next to me.

“How does it feel to be eighteen, Kara-bou?” I turn, taking her hands and staring into her big green eyes.

The sun hangs lower in the sky, slowly creeping toward the rainy horizon, casting its fragmented light all over us. Perfection, your name is Kara Lilydale. Couldn't be more obvious than it is today.

Sure, she's always beautiful, but right now, in this light, she's fucking radiant.

“It's strange. I've seen you, Matt, and so many of my friends reach the magic number. I always thought I'd be ready. Thought I'd do something special to mark it. Instead, I'm just happy to be here, living in the moment, doing the same things we always do.”

Smirking, I pull her into my arms, holding her close, running my hand slowly down her back. My fingers pass through her long blond locks. They're like silk spun gold in the Michigan sun, as vibrant and alive as the sun beams flickering out on the lake.

She doesn't have a clue what I have planned. Hell, I'm trying to believe it myself, wishing my balls would magically double in size so I can get it out.

I've never been so nervous in my life. Of course, I don't show a damned sign of it. Nothing's ruining the surprise.

“You're just excited for your presents, birthday girl,” I tease, holding her face with my hand. “Your old man's been bringing in a lot of extra business for the big day. Probably gonna buy you a new car packed to the brim with i-Everything.”

“No iPad. He's probably trying to pay for my dorm alone. Ann Arbor isn't cheap. The scholarships and loans will help a little, but there's a lot left for them to cover.” She looks at me slowly, her eyes narrowing a little. “You're the one who should be excited for tonight. It's finally happening, Ryan. Remember?”

My cock twitches hard in my jeans. Yeah, fuck, I'd have to be dead to forget.

I've been counting down the days until she became legal, crushing her beneath me during every make out session we've had the last few months. I had to keep myself on a tight leash every time she dropped another hint. Every raging instinct I have wanted me to take her then and there, but I promised to save this for today, the day I'm going to have her for all the right reasons.

“It's going to be incredible, baby,” I whisper, my hand sinking low, grazing her ass. I lean in closer, pushing my teeth against her earlobe. “You've been waiting for your birthday promise, Kara-bou, so here it is: tonight, I'm going to make you scream.”

She squirms underneath me. My woman knows I don't make empty promises, and that goes double for sex. Plus she wants it just as bad as I do, aching to seal the love we've built the most primal way possible.

After sundown, I'm taking her cherry. What starts with a kiss is going to end with me balls deep inside her, claiming her the way I've wanted since we locked lips in her bedroom years ago.

“Can we check into our room early?” she purrs, wondering about the little place I've made reservations for, just on the other end of Marquette, a short drive down the shore. “I don't know how much longer I can wait, Ryan. Seriously.”

Normally, I'd be all over that. But there's one more thing I have to do before I bring her to bed, strip her naked, and watch every beautiful inch of her moving, rippling, fucking beneath me.

I see it all. Every filthy, incredible movement I've imagined since I started bringing myself off to her several years ago.

Every dirty word. Every vicious kiss. Every moan leaving her throat, every grunt leaving mine, just before she wrings the come straight from my balls.

Fuck. If I graze her nipples now, I know they'll be hard, begging to be sucked soft.

“There's something else,” I say, fighting to control the volcanic hormones raging in my veins for just a few more minutes. “I didn't just bring you up here for a birthday sendoff, Kara.”

Her eyes go big, wondering, especially when I use her name without the pet part tacked on the end. I grab her hands, hold them in mine, so tight it almost hurt.

“Don't care if you go off to college, or Paris, or the friggin' moon. I can't live without you, babe, and I'd be a fool not to do everything I can to show you I'm serious.”

“Oh my God...” Her voice dies as I sink to my knees.

Thankfully, it only takes a second to reach into my pocket, picking out the carefully concealed box I've been carrying all day. It's taken me the entire summer to save up for the modifications with the jeweler, getting it re-sized and inscribed like I want.. As for the ring itself, I had a little help.

My thumb flicks the top open, and holds it out to her. “It's your grandmom's ring. Bart gave it to me this morning, after I told him I was going to marry you, and I wanted his permission first.”

I owe her dad big time, it's true. Especially when he's been like a father to me for years, long before he's becoming my father-in-law.

Those beautiful breasts I can't wait to pillage bob on her chest as her breathing quickens. For a second, I'm afraid I've made a huge mistake, and she's going to say no.

Grabbing her hand, I grip it in mine, bringing it closer to the ring. “Look, I know we're young. I know this is sudden. Most people our age are focused on school, or figuring out what club they're going to hit the next night, and who their next fling is going to be. I don't care about any of that. The day I met you, Kara-bou, I knew you were mine. We're young, and people will bitch, but I don't care what they think. Fuck the crowd. I'm spending my life with you, love, every single day I can. By this time next year, I want to be planning our wedding, assuming you say you'll marry me.” I'm rattling on like a fool, so I shut up and look at her, lacing my fingers tighter in hers. “Will you, baby?”

She answers me by falling down on her knees so hard the bang of bone on metal echoes through the lighthouse. I've seen her speechless before a hundred times, but she always gives me an answer.

This time, it's the best wordless reply I've ever heard. She jumps me, snatching at the ring with her free hand, bringing her hot little mouth to mine.

We kiss for eons, rolling around in the lighthouse, lost in each other for so long it's dark and raining by the time we finally stop for air. If it wasn't for the risk of retirees or oddball travelers popping in, interrupting our privacy, I'd take her here on the floor, having our first time overlooking the cool, choppy waves below.

“I love you, Ryan Caspian. I can't wait to be your wife.”

Shit. She's serious.

The prettiest girl in town just said yes. It's the first time one of my crazy plans worked. Means so much I don't care if it ever happens again.

It's my turn to be speechless. She's just told me the best thing a man can hear. I'm only twenty, not even old enough to drink, but I know it's true. Know it every time my heart beats a little harder, staring at my new fiancee, imagining how hot she's going to look dressed up in white, coming toward me at the altar.

“Love you, Kara-bou, and it's getting stronger every day. I'm never letting go. Don't care if the sky breaks open and spills everything it's got on our heads. We're meant to be together,” I say, my voice deepening an octave, pulling her closer in my arms. “A lot can happen when you get married as young as us. I'm ready, and I know you are too. Long as we remember everything we said here today, everything we promised, we'll make it. No doubt. I promise, babe, you're mine forever.”

“I promise, too.” It's the last little sound she makes before I wipe away the tears rolling down her cheeks with my lips.

“Turn it over. Look inside,” I say, clasping the ring in her hand with mine, bringing it up to our faces.

Always, my love. Always, always, always.

I agonized over the text for weeks. Then I realized there was only one word fit for telling her how I really feel, one that won't ever change, no matter what the universe throws our way.

Overwhelmed, she leans in, kissing me again. Her mouth tastes hot, wet, desperate. I love it, every single brush of her lips on mine, our oneness overflowing in every sticky fusion.

My fingers cup her face, pulling her into me, dancing across the tiny scar she has from a gym class mishap a year ago. They were playing golf, and her friend, Zoe, wound up her swing too much. One blow to the face later, she's marked forever. I remember Bart bringing his little girl home from the emergency room, while Matt and I scrambled to help with ice.

I held the pack against her face while the stitches set. Many months later, it's healed nicely. The kind of perfectly imperfect scar that gives a man one more thing to fall in love with.

We kiss for another five minutes, her on my lap, the sun peeking out one more time through the rain to salute us. Then we're heading downstairs, walking through the cold, wet bullets to my car.

Hand-in-hand, we're engaged. And we're about to make this official at our hotel, loving each other in ways far more exciting than gold and diamonds will ever be.

* * *

Two hours later, she's laid out on top of the sheets. Naked as the day she was born, and goddamned beautiful.

My cock doesn't need more than a second to turn into granite. Never does when her hands or mouth are anywhere near it, really. Except today, a charging bull couldn't knock down the hard-on pulsing between my legs.

I let her undress me before she laid down. Her little hands rolled up my shirt, undid my belt, and pushed down my jeans.

She gasped when she saw the new tattoos lining my shoulders, falling down my back like flaming swords. It's ink I've been slowly expanding whenever I have a little extra money. I love the fire because it reminds me to keep everything I've worked for burning bright on the tinder of my past.

I smiled at her knowingly, told her she could kiss it, scratch it, drag her tongue across the fire any way she liked.

My tattoos mean I don't look back. Not at the abuse that sticks in my head some long, dark nights from my real parents – both of them junkies who left me alone most days in a ratty Detroit apartment. Not at the three sets of assholes who couldn't be bothered to make up for it, three bad foster families who starved me, kicked my ass, and used me as a government ticket to more booze. Not at the orphanage, or the system that failed me, because I turned out pretty good in spite of it.

Greg and Sally did the best, lazy drunks that they are. At least they weren't violent, and that isn't saying much. The last set of boozers to put a roof over my head left me on my own as long as I cleaned their dirty house. They did me a solid by bringing me to Split Harbor, though, because without their shit I wouldn't be standing here today, looking at the most beautiful sight I've ever seen, my cock in my hand.

I'm ready to claim the only woman I've ever loved – only one I ever will.

I move onto the bed and grab her legs, throwing them over my shoulders. She moans softly, closing her eyes. Doesn't take much to get her going today. Nothing except the faintest touch.

It's normally like that with the little things we've done before, yeah, but this is something special. She's shaking. She can't believe it, and neither can I, but the only cure is to fuck right through until it's real.

Nothing will stop me now. Her soft, silky skin feels so fucking hot.

I kiss her skin, inhaling long and hard, filling my lungs with her scent. My eyes shift down to the sweet swollen pussy I'm about to own.

She smells incredible. My tongue burns, instinctively telling me she's going to taste even sweeter.

It'll be my first time sucking her supple little cunt, fucking her with my tongue. Can't hold in the smile when I think how she's going to jerk and scream once I get her going.

“Ryan...please!” she whimpers, her legs shaking gently in my hands, trying to pull apart.

Yes, please, baby girl. Her desperation makes my dick throb harder, and I feel a pearly drop of pre-come oozing out, landing on her thigh.

“What if I want to hear you beg a little longer?” I tease, knowing full well I'm playing with fire. If I don't do something soon, I'm going to shoot off on the bed like a fucking rookie.

My worst nightmare, something I've done everything I can to prevent with all the porn I've watched, my hand, and two girls I had before we met.

They're nothing compared to her. She's immaculate, sexy, her hips and tits calling me like sirens in the soft light.

“Keep your legs open,” I order, grabbing her thighs with my hands, pulling them wider.

She whimpers when my fingers dig in. It's a prelude to the places where my lips land, falling across her sleek inner thighs.

Up, up, heading straight for her wetness, the cherry pink center between that's drawing my tongue like a magnet.

I kiss her pussy once. The sound she makes – a little half-whimper, half-moan – pours kerosene on the fire in my balls.

I need to eat this girl.

I need to fuck her.

One fine day, I really need to put my seed inside her, empty myself deep in her hot, wet cunt. Imagining how she'll look someday with her breasts and belly swollen from my kid sends a jolt down my spine.

Everything inside me turns rough and primal, ready to hijack every single inch of her.

No more teasing. I push my face hard against her steaming center, tasting the sweetness I've been thinking about all night.

“Ryan!' My name comes out like a curse and a prayer on her lips.

Doesn't she know it only makes me want to take her harder? I'm smiling when her whimpers get harsher, louder, turning into screams.

I lick up and down, toying with her virgin cherry, taking her apart with my tongue. My mouth tells me she's insanely tight. My pulse hammers in my cock twice as fast while I lick, suck, and bring my tongue against her clit, painting it with pleasure.

It takes maybe ten strokes there before she comes. My Kara tenses like a spring.

Every fucking muscle in her beautiful body goes taut before she grinds against my face, trembles, and loses herself in my tongue.

Three words hit my ears while I'm growling against her convulsing pussy, licking her as fast and hard as humanly possible. I can't stop. I want to eat her until I'm all that's on her mind; morning, noon, and night.

Her head flips back, and she screams.

“Ryan!”

“Fuck!”

“Yes!”

Those words threaten to blister my ears. My lips and tongue are so busy against her clit I can't smile anymore. Inwardly, I'm glowing. I just heard the last three sounds I want to remember on my deathbed.

Her thighs keep trying to close with the pleasure overwhelming her. I hold them open, digging my fingers harder into her skin, keeping her apart so my tongue can bring her off as long and hard as her body allows.

There's no mercy here. No sweetness.

Not tonight, when I'm about to fuck my lovely wife-to-be for the very first time. Not when it seems like the entire universe is singing our song, from the furious rhythm in our hearts to the fire roaring in our veins.

I don't let up on her delectable cunt until she's breathless, literally gasping for air. Then I have to break myself away, or I'm going to die between her legs, and that would be a tragedy without having my cock there first.

I'm looking down, admiring her while I lick the last of her sweetness from my lips. Kara's eyes are lidded, and her tits roll on her chest, rising and falling in shallow waves as she tries to catch her breath. Reaching down, I cup her chin, bringing my lips to hers.

She tastes so good I want her to share it. Lord knows she's done the same for me many times after sucking me off with those perfect lips – our favorite past time, up until now.

“You come beautiful, babe. Don't know if it's because you're more turned on tonight, or if it's because you're about to be my wife.” I whisper softly in her ear, the first of many sexy, sweet praises I'm going to be singing her until the universe itself goes cold. “I love you, Kara-bou. Are you ready?”

Her green eyes open, their energy returning. It's not really a question. The next word out of her mouth better be yes, or I'm going to stroke myself off and spill my come all over her.

I can't wait to have her pussy wrapped around me anymore.

I can't. Can't. Just fucking can't.

“Yes...” She says the magic word, reaching up to brush my face with her fingertips.

I always try to keep a faint shadow of stubble on my face. She loves it when it brushes her skin.

“Ryan,” she purrs, slowly opening her legs while I reach for the box of condoms on the nightstand. “I've imagined this a thousand times. You don't have a clue.”

I'm smiling because she's flat-out wrong about that. If she's dreamed about sex a thousand times, then I've stroked myself at least double, always thinking about how she'll feel wrapped around me when I blow.

“Yeah? And how's it holding up?” I ask, unsure if I really care about the answer as I tear the foil with my teeth, then roll the latex down my throbbing shaft.

“Fantasies were never this good.” Her eyes go wider, and she looks at me intently, forming her mouth into a seductive little O. There's something wicked coming over her, and I think I like it. “Fuck me, Ryan. Show me what it means to wear your ring.”

Oh, hell.

She doesn't know what she's asking with those words. That look. That perfectly sexy set of lips that doesn't ever need to ask.

“We'll go slow, baby,” I say. My skin tingles when I hear her moan, pressing the full, thick length of my dick against her opening.

She's as ready for me as she'll ever be. I remember to ease her into it, fighting my baser instincts to give her all of me, hard and fast.

She's never done this before. I've only done it a few times. Every woman, including her, tells me I'm big. Judging by how the jealous pricks at Split Harbor High used to stare at me in the locker room after gym, I know it's true.

I take some pride in my size, but nothing boosts my ego more than staring into her eyes, knowing I'm claiming a woman who deserves every inch.

The swollen tip of my cock rubs her slit. I suck her bottom lip between my teeth, savoring the moment before I'm in her. I brush her cheek with one hand, grazing the little scar from her golfing accident.

“Please, Ryan. Please!” She's whimpering now, laying her legs over mine, running her feet down my calves.

Our eyes click. I swear we can see the electricity charting the space between us.

My hips roll forward. I'm pushing in her, one furious inch at a time, and fuck it feels good.

She cries out, locking her legs around me, pulling me deeper. Something gives way around my cock, and I see her scrunch her face up. Uncomfortable, but urging me on.

We don't let hell itself stop us now. Her incredible pussy hugs me so tight I can feel it through the condom, constricting around my cock every second I push just a little deeper.

“Good?” I stop to kiss her again before I let her answer.

I know it has to hurt, stretching around me like this. But the way she's panting, the way her nipple softens when I roll it between my fingertips, tells me there's pleasure waiting for us, and it's going to be like nothing we've had before.

“Don't. Stop.” Two little words leave her mouth, all she can manage, and she hugs me with her legs harder. “Fuck me, Ryan.”

She never swears, except when we're alone. Hearing her curse feeds the inferno in my blood. This side of her is mine.

Mine alone, and hell, do I love it.

My hips go wild, crashing into her like waves. Love and lust collide like a mad scientist's cocktail in my blood, and I'm thrusting into her good and deep, setting a rhythm that's going to carry us to ecstasy. I only pause to put my lips on hers, steal the pleasure from her lungs, and growl while my tongue sweeps hers.

Soon, we've found our pace. We're fucking so good, just like we were always meant to. I won't last long at this rate, fire welling up in my balls.

Kara can't either. Her nails find the flames on my shoulders, using them as targets, sinking into my skin as her pleasure boils over.

Her eyes flutter open just enough for me to see them roll. My woman, my wife, my baby comes on my dick, so hard her pussy squeezes me. The world's softest flesh pulls at my cock, begging me to join her in release.

Who am I to say no? What red blooded man in his right mind would?

I drive down deep, slamming into her with everything I've got, slapping her little ass with my balls. The flames inked on my shoulders come alive, sending energy straight down my back, igniting every nerve.

Pure magma churns at the base of my cock, before erupting a second later. “Kara!”

“Ryan!”

Her name is all I can manage. There's nothing but thunder in my throat the whole time as I spill myself into her, coming in the woman I'm going to marry for the first time, the first and only love of my life.

Everything goes white, the sound of our groans fading from my ears, and there's nothing except my cock heaving fire to the thud-thud-thud of our hearts. I'm coming a hundred times harder than I ever have with my hand. Harder than I ever did with the other chicks I messed with before.

Hell, none of them are in the same universe as this.

Yeah, I'm man enough to admit the touchy-feely shit adds something amazing to the storm. If this sex is mind blowing because my heart bangs my ribs a hundred miles an hour every time I look at her under me, because every voice inside me is howling to claim this girl from the inside out, tonight and forever, then I don't want a damned thing to do with heartless fucking ever again.

I stay in her while I'm coming down from the high, listening to her breathe, subtly matching her tempo. It takes more than a minute before I soften, caressing and kissing her the whole time. I pull out, carefully unroll the condom, and throw it in the little waste bin across the room.

“Well?” she says, propped up on one elbow, bringing her free hand to my chest to draw circles. “Was it everything you expected?”

Just my luck, the little minx has remembered how to speak faster than me. I give her a slow, smiling glance. “No.”

Her eyes go wide, full of horror. I wrap an arm around her, drag her lips to mine, and lay down a kiss before I rest my forehead on hers.

“It was more, Kara-Bou. So much fucking more.” I watch the relieved smile spread across her face. “Best part is, we've got all night to explore.”

“And then the rest of our lives,” she adds, making me grin like a fool.

It only takes me about a hundred seconds to get hard again. Moving my hand to her ass, I cup one cheek and squeeze, pulling her on top of me.

Despite being as young and horny as I should be, I'm grateful for the two minute rest. It's plenty of time to imagine the better days to come.

The day when she says, “I do.”

The day when she's coming home with a degree in her hands, and we take one more anniversary trip to the Armitage Lighthouse, before we leave Split Harbor for her immersion school in France. By then, I'll have the money and success to live like a king with her in Paris, God willing.

Then there's the day when we're coming home, buying a big house on the shore outside Marquette, the first of many kids quickening inside her.

I want it all. I'm going to have the whole package after the hell I've suffered. Family means more to me than the average twenty year old because I've never seen it up close and personal until the Lilydales brought me into their lives. They've given me a taste of what a normal, loving family should be.

It's ambrosia to a starving man, and I'm grabbing life by the balls as soon as she's off to Ann Arbor so I can drink my fill.

I'll die before I let her down, or abandon everything I've worked for. It's been leading up to this moment since the day she slid in the oil at Bart's Auto.

No more games. No delays. No reminders.

Every day, every night, every single second she's wearing my ring and sharing my bed, I see what's ahead. I know what I need to do to make it happen.

When I tangle her blond locks in my fingers again and take her lips with mine, I'm seeing through time and space, straight through our very souls. And damn, I like what I see.

Starting tonight, our future couldn't be more perfect.

* * *

It's Labor Day, roughly a week later, and I'm working overtime for a VIP. Well, the closet thing we have to a Very Important Person at the only auto shop in this podunk town. Nelson Drayton brought his custom Porsche in for a rush job, buffing out a few scratches.

The sun is shining, and I'm alone with the big door open, Cold Play pipes through our sound system, spilling their rich melodies into the garage. It's an awesome contrast to the chill beginning to fill the air, the infamous lake effect blowing in, as it always does the instant the calendar flips to September.

Yesterday, I finished helping load Kara's things into a big white moving truck. She took off with her old man, heading for college, dreams spilling out every inch of her sweet smile. Some of them were mine, the dreams we shared, and they caused me to grin like a goddamned fool.

Her and Bart got a late start on the road. Two days later than they should've thanks to us celebrating our engagement.

Nobody minded the delay. Hearing her parents hammer us with thanks and throw sample wedding plans at us like rocks brought out the truth in the promise we'd made to each other.

This is really happening. I'm about to be the happiest man on God's green Earth because I'm marrying her.

Once we set a wedding date, happiness is in reach. Permanently.

I'll do my damnedest to move down to Ann Arbor while she finishes school, finding work at another shop if my business doesn't spike by then.

I'm buffing the rough lines out of the Porsche when I hear footsteps behind me. “This is taking all day, kid. Are you almost finished, or should I call Bart to do a man's job?”

How this asshole got by for decades in local politics by being a total prick, I have no clue.

He'd been out back alone for the past hour. Smoking his imported cigars like a fucking chimney since the second he rolled up, he threw me his keys, and told me to “hurry the hell up.” For a man in his seventies, freshly retired from public life, there's no humility.

Seems like he's missing sympathy, empathy, and mercy, too.

Nelson Drayton walks, talks, and breathes like he's been chewing the silver spoon his entire life. He's also bitter about something, and ready to take it out on anyone who doesn't drop to their knees to make his worries disappear.

I do a slow turn, forcing my lips to form a smile so it doesn't look like I'm baring my teeth. “Five or ten more minutes, Mr. Drayton. That's all I need. I'll have her good as new in no time, we're just wrapping up now.”

He wrinkles his nose. His weathered face sticks out of his suit, making him look ten years older than he truly is. Or maybe it just makes him look like he's been marinated in a high end whiskey barrel for several years and then run over by the pretentious car I'm working my ass off for.

“If we're going to waste the entire evening, why don't you clean my interior too?” he says. It isn't really a question.

I nod politely, anger churning in my guts when I see him put another big stogie between his lips and fish out his gold plated lighter. “Absolutely, sir. My pleasure. We have a rule about smoking in the garages,” I tell him, motioning to the safety sign on the wall, several feet from where he's standing.

He doesn't say a word. Just looks at me, narrows his eyes, and brings a flame to his cigar, drawing in a long pull of rich tobacco before he turns.

“I'll be back in an hour. You better be done with this shit by then.”

I bite my tongue, grateful he's going for a walk. Last thing I need is the town's most entitled prick eyeballing me while I give his baby the sweetest skin she's had since the day she rolled off the lot.

I'm serious. Bart wouldn't have called me in today over Mickey, Jack, and the other guys if I weren't the best. I put my pride, sweat, and soul into this because it's given me everything.

No, I won't be a mechanic forever. It's good, honest work that's given me a whole hell of a lot, brought me my woman and introduced me to the Lilydales, the only folks who say they're family, and mean it.

I grit my teeth while I lean over the car, moving my hands across its sleek body with precision. I'm going to be as rich as Nelson someday, and I'll never be a prick about it. I'll have earned it, and I'll be grateful, too happy and fulfilled to stomp around with the sour scowl permanently plastered to his face.

It takes a little longer than I told him to finish the body work. Then I grab a vacuum and some polish for the leather seats, eager to wrap up this job.

I want to get out of here, maybe lay down some code at home this evening for a few hours before Kara calls to tell me how she's settling into her dorm. Lately, I've been studying auto components, searching for opportunities in the only field I know.

One minute, working on his car, the future seems like it can't get any brighter.

In the years ahead, I'll wish like hell I never opened the Porsche's door, reached under the driver's seat, and ruined my life.

Sweet, merciful Christ. If only I'd known what would happen as soon as I climbed in that car, I would have dropped my tools and ran, as far from this crazy town as my boots could carry me.

If I hadn't found that bastard's dirty little secret, I never would've blown my life to shit.