At your service. Now go on, take the wheel in your hands.”
A long sigh had her unfurling her fingers and slowly gripping the wheel.
Jesse reached over and moved her hands to the right position. “You’re ready.”
She shook her head and long blonde hair flew around her. “No, I’m not.”
Jesse grinned. “You are.”
“What if I crash?” she pleaded.
“You won’t.”
“I’m sure I will.”
“I’ll sit next to you.” Jesse slid over on the seat. “That way I can grab the wheel if anything goes wrong?”
“Okay.” She nodded.
As soon as he was beside her, he smelled flowers. Her perfume or shampoo or some such girly thing. Mm, she smelled good. He lifted an arm around her and placed a foot alongside hers resting his leg against her thigh. She was wearing shorts and, whew, those tanned legs. He wished he had on shorts too, but he’d dressed in his Sunday jeans to impress her. He wondered what her skin against his would feel like.
“Jesse, I asked if I should start the motor. Are you having second thoughts?”
“No. No, I’m not. If anything goes wrong, just get your right foot out of the way. I’ll hit the brake and steer. Okay?”
She swallowed. “We’re going to die.”
They’d had three real dates and that didn’t even count the noontime surf walks to quell Olivia’s fear of the ocean. Jesse splashed the new aftershave on his freshly shaved face. His reflection in the small bathroom mirror caused an unwarranted chuckle. He had to admit, he’d bought the All Man scent hoping Olivia would like it. Usually, he smelled like engine oil and gasoline. Although, he had to question if they were real dates. To him, yes. But to her maybe he was teaching her how to drive and that’s all.
He shook his head to clear it and headed toward the kitchen in search of food. He was always hungry.
In the living room he stopped and planted a kiss on the top of his mama’s head. She was bent over the desk that stood in the corner of the living room doing the books for the Henderson Fishing Company. Mama was Grace Henderson before she married Jesse’s father, Joseph Malone. The only girl amongst five brothers. It was a given that her part in the fourth-generation family business would be just that, taking care of business. Jesse himself had never been much for fishing. But he could make an engine purr. He’d never planned to follow in the family footsteps and that had been just fine with his mama. She loved the business but had always wanted something more for him. Something different. Something special.
“You smell like a gigolo. Where you off to?” she asked without looking up.
He laughed and went on into the kitchen. He’d barely lifted the towel covering the pan of rolls resting on the counter when Mama’s voice stopped him.
“Those are for dinner,” she called from the living room. “There are leftovers in the icebox.”
He dropped the towel. How does she do that? Mama could see through walls.
He turned to go to the fridge when she appeared in the doorway. She was 5’4” to his 6’ and fifty pounds lighter but his mother could stop him with a look.
She could also coerce a confession with little more than a raised brow and her fists on her slim hips. “What’s that look for, Mama? I ain’t done nothing wrong.”
“You haven’t done anything wrong,” she corrected.
“That’s what I just said.” He gave her a crooked smile.
She hmphed. “In the past couple weeks, you ain’t done a lot right.”
He feigned hurt. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Usually, Mama saved the scolding for Jesse’s older brother, Joseph Junior. He found trouble everywhere while Jesse kept his nose clean.
“Jesse, I talked to Mr. Caruthers. He says you’ve been skipping work.”
“I have, some.” He sighed. “I’ve had stuff to take care of.”
“Look, I know how it is when you’re nineteen.”
“Almost twenty,” Jesse interjected.
“I want you to have fun.” She took him by the arm. “Jesse, this is a real break Mr. Caruthers is giving you. He wants to turn the shop over to you one day. And I have to be honest, knowing your feet are on solid land and not out there dragging fish from the ocean …” As she said that, she threw a hand to the window where the bay lay beyond their small manicured lawn. “I just want you to be happy.”
“I’m happy, Mama.”
“But you can’t cut work. You’ve done so well up to now. One more