Chapter Ten
"Tess?"
I stopped abruptly, before I spun to see a navy Ford crawling along beside me. I tilted my head slightly and found a mystified expression peering out at me through the open window.
"What are you doing out here?" said Toby.
Toby? Toby was behind the wheel. It wasn't a serial killer, it was Toby.
I inhaled a deep breath of relief. "Oh, thank God it's you! I thought you were a murderer."
His brows raised in surprise.
"Are you alright?"
No, I wanted to pout, I am suffering from sunstroke, dehydration, starvation. And I was all of a sudden keenly aware of how sweaty and awful I must have looked. I discreetly pushed my fingers through my hair and smiled in good humour, my eyes flicking to my bike.
"I'm afraid she has given up the ghost."
Ugh! That would be something my dad would say.
Toby pulled over and got out of his vehicle in one fluid movement. He was in his work pants and work shirt that had Tobias embroidered in yellow on his pocket. The little detail made me smile. I had only ever heard Sean call him that, and I was pretty sure it was to deliberately hit a nerve.
He gave me a coy smile as he made a direct line to crouch and examine my bike. I was mesmerised by his swiftly moving hands; he had beautiful hands. I had often wondered how they always seemed so amazingly clean, considering his job was to be covered in grease and oil all day, every day. He must have some heavy duty industrial cleaner to wash his hands with every night. This thought led me to visions of him at home, showering, getting ready for a night out with the boys at the Onslow for dinner and pool. His hair was always slightly damp, with just the slightest touch of hair product. He wouldn't do much more than that, he didn't need to; he was naturally perfect. Whenever I brushed past him in the crowded poolroom, there was always a hint of a fresh, clean, crisp aftershave. It made me want to be close to him, to bask in all that was Toby.
I snapped myself out of my daydream when he looked back up at me.
"This chain's history. Where are you headed?"
I didn't want to confess I was just goofing around on my summer holidays, giving little thought to much else. That was the beauty of it. It was meant to be a voyage to forget all my troubles, all thoughts of him and Angela last night. And then here he was straightening up in front of me, looking down at me with those questioning brown eyes.
"Oh, I should be getting home, I hadn't planned on being out so long."
Ugh! God, that sounded like I had a curfew; that I would be in trouble if I didn't scurry home to Mum and Dad. Why didn't I just say I was headed to the Onslow to pick up my pay, because I was a responsible working woman? I could have even asked if he wanted to join me for a drink? Like grownups do. Have a friendly chat.
About what exactly? Cars? School? His girlfriend?
"If you want, I can give you a lift home," he said.
I tried not to look so overjoyed, but the thought of being rescued by Toby was an even better outcome than I could have ever hoped for.
"Yes, please! I don't want to die out here, not like this."
He smirked. "Murderers, death; you have a dark mind, Tess."
And before I could hide my smile, he grabbed my bike and lifted it onto the bed of his ute. The very same one I saw parked in his drive, or occasionally at the Onslow Hotel. Deep navy, big and bulky, this was a man's vehicle. A vehicle I was about to climb into.
I fought to overcome my nerves as I opened the passenger door. I hoisted myself up inside. Toby was busy securing my bike in the back. On the passenger floor was a lunch box and thermos. I slid my feet away from the items, which wasn't difficult considering the ample room inside. There weren't individual seats but a light cream bench seat, with nothing dividing me from Toby. I leaned my arm on the open windowsill and pondered. You could fit three bodies in for a ride with ease if someone was pressed up next to the driver. I wondered who had ridden in this car with him. Sean? Stan? Angela?
Okay, let's not think about that.
Toby pulled open the driver's door, and he filled the rest of the cab's interior. He fired up the beast of an engine and pulled into gear, gloriously tearing up the bitumen. I stole a quick glance in the side view mirror and grabbed my hair that was flailing around from the open window. I held it back at the base of my neck, and my wispy fringe momentarily blinded me. I stole a sideways glance at Toby. He met my eyes briefly and smiled. I looked quickly out the window. In my peripheral vision, I watched as Toby's suntanned arm rested on top of the wheel, his other arm leaning casually on the open window. He was relaxed and confident behind the wheel. It was of little wonder; if he got his learner's at sixteen he would have been driving for six years by now. I calculated it in my mind. I would have been 11 when he started driving. I tried not to think too much about that.
An awkward silence swept over us, only to be broken by Toby's cough before he spoke.
"So, where did you go last night?"
I tried not to shift in my seat at his question. I was hoping that my sudden disappearance after the glass-breaking episode would go unnoticed. I guess not.
"Oh, you know, kitchen duties beckoned."
"Oh?" He seemed surprised.
"Yeah, whenever a crisis breaks out they shine a giant K in the sky, and I hightail it."
"So you head to the phone booth and change into your apron and rubber gloves?" Toby's mouth turned up at the corners. Just a little.
"Isn't that Superman?"
"Oh right, sorry. My bad, giant K in the sky: you're rocking it Batman style."
"Exactly. Except if I was Batman, I wouldn't be needed in the kitchen full stop. Bruce Wayne doesn't do kitchens."
"You could serve customers like the speed of a bullet."
I laughed, shaking my head. "Again, Superman. Why don't you know this stuff? What did you do as a kid, spend it outdoors or something?"
"Misspent youth, clearly. I obviously don't know my superheroes at all." He frowned as if deeply distressed. "I must look into that."
"I would if I were you, that's kind of embarrassing."
He flashed a smile my way, before turning his gaze back to the road. There was more silence, but this time it wasn't uncomfortable. I turned to peer at my bike rattling away in the back.
"So, the old girl," I tilted my head backwards, "will she ride again?"
Toby glanced at me then back to the road; that elusive upward tilt of his lips reappeared as if he was fighting not to smile.
"Let me put it this way. I thought I'd have to surround it with some sheets and bring out the 22 to put it out of its misery."
My eyebrows rose. "You carry a 22?"
"You think carrying sheets isn't weird?"
"Yeah, but sheets aren't deadly."
"You haven't been to an all-boys boarding school."
"Ew! Okay, give me a gun."
There it was, that smile. He made no effort to hide it now. It shone brightly, lighting up his entire face.
"Are we talking about guns and dirty boys' sheets?" Toby frowned.
"You started it," I said. "Sheets aside, which I really don't want to know about, did you really go to boarding school?"
"Yep, my parents shipped me off in Year 7. The longest year of my life. I ended up just mucking up until they had no choice but to bring me home."
I stared at him for the longest time. Trying to imagine Toby ever being bad, I just couldn't picture it.
"So the sheets were that bad, huh?"
He burst out laughing; it was a wonderful sound, rich and warm. It made my skin tingle.
He shook his head as he refocused on the road.
"You have no idea!"
It was a bizarre conversation, our first formed sentences alone together. Well, there was the party but that doesn't count. How would I tell Ellie about my bonding session in Toby's ute?
She would squeal and insist that I tell her everything, and she'd ask the most obvious question. "S
o what did you talk about?"
Umm, guns and dirty sheets?
It would probably be better to go all cryptic and tell her: 'stuff'.
We pulled into my driveway; Toby killed the engine and jumped out, rounding the back of the ute to untie my bike. While I climbed slowly from the cab, I watched as he lifted my bike like it weighed nothing, his flexed, bronzed biceps the only proof of any strain.
"Where do you want it?"
In my bedroom.
I mentally slapped myself and fought not to blush.
He waited for me to answer.
"Umm, I just keep it in the garage."
He nodded and walked it over, leaning it against the far wall.
"Just there's fine," I said, "thanks, Toby." His name sounded so strange, so intimate on my tongue. I wanted to say it again.
He looked at the bike, in deep thought.
"You'll be out of action until you get a new chain."
"Yeah, I'll go and buy one tomorrow."
Because I was now a responsible working woman who could buy things like that. I would forgo the cute little skirt from Carters and buy a bike chain.
So depressing.
"Well, if you need someone to fit it ?"
"Oh, that's okay, my dad will do it."
And as soon as the words came out, I wanted to kick myself, preferably with steel-capped boots. Had he just offered to fix my bike? And I had blurted out that no, my daddy would do it?
IDIOT!!
"Cool, well, they're not that dear so you should pick one up down at Mac's store."
I started to walk him to the car, but he paused, head tilted as he looked at my leg.
"You're bleeding."
"Oh, it's nothing, just had an up-close-and-personal encounter with the bitumen," I said. "It doesn't hurt."
Like hell it doesn't!
His brows creased with concern and he crouched to examine it closer. My breath hitched in my throat as he lightly touched the skin around my knee. I fought to keep my breathing steady with the intimacy of it. He straightened, his look still serious.
"I have a first aid kit in my glove box; come on, let's clean you up."
We had a first aid kit in the house, but I wasn't blowing it a second time. I followed him to his ute.
"Jump up on the tray," he called over his shoulder as he headed to flip open the glove box and retrieve a small, blue zip-up case. I had planned to follow his advice when I noticed, due to my five-foot-nothing stature and the height of the tray, there was no way I could master it gracefully. Before I could even voice the issue, Toby had read the troubled look on my face. Without a word, he was by my side. With a small smile, he placed the first aid kit and a bottle of water on the tray.
"Here." Before I had time to think, his hands were on my waist and, as if I weighed nothing more than a feather, he boosted me up to perch on the tray. I fought not to squeal in surprise and my hands grabbed onto his shoulders for leverage.
"You okay?" he asked, his hands still on my sides, as if securing me in place.
I nodded all too quickly. He smiled at the affirmation and let me go. I could still feel the pressure of his hands, the feel and flex of his muscles as I was suddenly airborne. I could tell I was blushing profusely and hoped it might pass as sunburn.
I straightened my leg for his attention, as he rummaged through the first aid kit.
I arched a brow. "Rescue many damsels in distress?"
A crooked grin formed on his lips, but he didn't meet my eyes. "Every day! It's a tireless job."
My skin tingled from his touch as his hand clasped under my knee to hold my leg steady.
"Looks like you're the Superman then? Coming to the rescue and all."
He grabbed a bottle of water, popping the top with his teeth.
"This might sting a bit, okay, Tess? But I need to clean it."
My heart fluttered every time he said my name, I liked the sound of him saying it. I had never, in all my life of pining over Toby Morrison, heard it from his mouth before today. It had stopped me in my tracks when I had heard it through the open window earlier; I had suspected, but couldn't quite believe it to be true.
"It's okay." I smiled down at him and then he tipped a slow stream of water on my grazed knee.
SON-OF-A-BITCH!!
My entire frame locked up with the flash of pain; Toby's eyes darted upwards to watch my face.
"Sorry." He grimaced.
I tried my hardest to maintain my dignity as I clenched my jaw and forced a smile.
"It's okay."
Toby worked methodically, gently dabbing at the cut with cotton wool and Bettadine. I came to believe this was how Toby approached all things in life. Not to say just because he was ludicrously handsome that he must be a perfectionist in everyday life. It doesn't work like that. But everything he did was carefully thought out. Planned. Whether it be choosing a song on the jukebox, taking a shot at pool, or cleaning a clumsy girl's scraped knee, everything he did, it seemed, everything he touched, he did with great care.
The sting ebbed as I concentrated on the pressure of his fingers placed intimately under my knee, his butterfly touches of dabbing on the ointment. Once satisfied, he tore the package for the plaster and with intense concentration slowly placed it on my knee. Oh, he was a perfectionist alright. And he was damn good with his hands.
"Done." He stood back to eye his handiwork.
"Thanks, Doc!" I said. "Will I dance again?"
"You will dance, ride and serve meals better than ever before."
I arched my brow and examined my knee.
"Bionic leg ointment?" I teased.
I loved to make his face change, his smile was so transforming, it was the thing I loved about him the most.
I held my breath when he reached to help me down from the bed of the ute. He placed me gently onto the ground.
"Thanks," I managed to breathe. We stood there a moment. I realised I was still gripping his upper arms and quickly let go, trying not to blush deeper in the process.
'You good?" he asked.
"Yeah, thanks!"
I pushed my hands into my back pockets. Toby lifted the back tray with a thud, locking it in place, and moved towards the driver's door.
Say something, Tess, say something funny, bring back that smile, give him something to take away and make him remember you.
Instead, I said, "Thanks again."
Brilliant.
He grinned, exposing all of those perfect teeth.
"You're welcome." He fired his ute to life, leaning his arm on the open window as he checked the view behind him. He looked at me.
"When are you working next?"
I was startled by the question. I must have sported an idiotic expression because he just stared with an amused look on his face.
"Oh! Uh ? Saturday! I work again on Saturday, 12 till 2 and then 6 till 9, depending on how busy we are, and then again on Sunday, same hours."
Was that too much information? It was. Shut up, Tess. It was a simple question, you babbling idiot.
He nodded thoughtfully as if trying to take it all in. I'd overloaded him, I knew it.
"Well, might see ya there?" He began to slowly edge back out of the drive.
"Unless there's a giant K shining in the sky," I threw back.
He let out that wonderful laugh again and looked at me, really looked at me, and smiled that smile.
"Well, then I'll know."
As I stood for what felt like the longest time, staring out into the distance where his car had disappeared, there were some things I knew for certain.
I really wanted to hear that laugh again, and I couldn't wait for Saturday.