Slip Out the Back, Jack

            Jack never understood the term frozen with fear until he experienced the hot mess sitting across the table. In fact, it took a moment to register the Pumpkinhead Ale soaking into his lap after his date leaned across the table, manic smile on her face, to take a selfie with him.

“Take that, Evan!” She mashed her finger onto the send button as if it would faster spirit the photo to her ex’s inbox. “I’m having such a great time, Jack! I’m so glad your sister set us up. It was time for me to get back on that horse, back in the saddle—hiccup—back on the beam.” She downed her third class of mulled wine in the twenty minutes they’d been at the restaurant.

“I’m going to wash up.” Jack pushed back from the table and tossed his sodden cocktail napkin next to his empty glass. “If our meal comes, start without me.” Lord knew she needed something to soak up all that alcohol. He was going to kill his sister.

In the restroom he patted himself with brown trifold towels then aimed his crotch under the blower. He would be uncomfortable until he could change, but at least his dark wash jeans hid the wet area, and the liquid had missed his flannel shirt altogether.

Jack emerged from the restroom hall and stopped short. Across the room, his date was wrapped around another man like a kudzu and attached to his face like a leach. The infamous Evan, he presumed.

He snagged his passing waiter. “Cancel my steak.” Jack pulled a ten from his wallet. “This should cover my ale. Keep the change. My date’s new companion can pay for her.” The man nodded and moved on.

An exit lay down the hall beyond the restrooms, an option preferable to walking back through the dining area. As he slipped out the back, the aroma of ripe trash greeted him on the crisp fall air. He turned and came face to face with a well-rounded derriere. He dodged as a foot kicked out, then grabbed the leg attached to it before it disappeared into the dumpster.

The leg’s owner squealed. Jack almost released her. When she started wriggling in earnest, he hauled her out.

“Hey!” She took a wary step back and pierced him with a glare. She was a compact little thing with several ear piercings and a loosely spiked pixie cut Jack didn’t usually find attractive. Usually. Several locks of hair shone bright pink in the iridescent light; the rest appeared dark brown or black. She was remarkably clean, considering where he found her.

“Dumpster diving isn’t safe. If you need food, I’ll buy you a meal,” Jack said in what he hoped was a placating tone. No need to incite a crazy trash picker.

“I work here, you idiot.”

“Okay?”

She sighed. “A customer vomited on me last night, so I just trashed my apron. Today I realized my driver’s license was in the pocket.”

Jack cast a skeptical glance at the dumpster. “You can get a new one for like thirty bucks at the DMV.”

“And half a day out of my life. I already thought of that,” she grumbled. “My license is still good for three years. I just moved from Arkansas and can’t find my birth certificate. I don’t have a choice.”

Jack gripped the back of his neck. The woman’s gaze flicked to his raised bicep. “Yeah, that’s a problem. At least let me help you.” One glance of appreciation and he was willing to fish through vomit. He’d been single far too long. “Let me get gloves from my truck. I’m Jack, by the way.”

“What are you doing back here anyway? I’m not interrupting a dine and dash, am I?”

“More like a date and dash.” Jack frowned.

“You ditched your date?” Disgust flashed across her face.

“Other way around. It was a blind date. I’m not broken up about it.” He jogged to the truck and retrieve two pair of work gloves. When he returned, she was back up on the edge of the dumpster peering in. “It should only be one layer down.”

Jack climbed up and handed her a pair of gloves. “If I’m going to dive for you, I should at least know your name.”

“Diedre,” she answered. She looked at the proffered gloves. “I’ll get the inside of your gloves dirty.”

He shrugged. “I work construction. I have dozens in my truck.”

She slipped them on and pressed her fingers together to keep them from slipping off.

Jack used his longer arms to shift the top layer of bags. Diedre held them to the side as he worked.

“Those two with the whipped cream on the side.” She pointed.

Jack grimaced and tossed the two bags onto the ground. He and Diedre hopped down.

“My chivalry ends here. You can paw through them, and I’ll toss them back in when you’re done.”

Diedre nodded and untied the first bag. Jack had to hand it to her; she wasn’t squeamish. Maybe her determination overrode her gag reflex. He shuddered.

“It’s not this one.” She retied the bag and moved over to the next one, offering Jack another view of her shapely ass. “I can feel you staring at me. Knock it off. It’s creepy.”

Jack cleared his throat, feeling his face burn. “Sorry.” He picked up the bag and returned it to the dumpster.

She snorted. “Whatever. I’m used to it.”

She’d succeeded in making him feel worse.

“I am sorry. It’s not something you should be used to. I don’t want to be that guy. I apologize.” He made sure not to stand behind her.

She glanced up at him. “Those are pretty words. You might be redeemable. It’s hard for most men to behave contrary to their baser natures.” It almost sounded like a pardon.

“You’re fascinating,” Jack blurted and immediately wished he could snatch back his words.

She paused and frowned at him. “Like a circus side show? Thanks.”

“No. That came out wrong. I’ve never met a woman willing to weed through vomit for anything.”

“It’s not something I do for fun in my spare time. Normally I prefer scraping roadkill or snaking drains at college dorms.” Sarcasm dripped from her words like, well, vomit.

“Listen. I hang out with building crews and all my hobbies involve solitary work with my hands—”

Diedre snorted again but her brown eyes sparked with amusement.

“—like fishing and woodworking. I’m not a great conversationalist and obviously my thoughts aren’t translating to words very well.” He raked a hand through his hair, realizing he was overdue for a cut on top of the other black marks he’d accumulated.

“Found it!” She pulled a black string from the bag until the rest of the apron followed it. She pulled off a glove and gingerly slipped her hand in the pocket, then held up the plastic card in triumph. She started to put it in her pocket but handed it to Jack instead. After retying the bag, she tossed it back in the dumpster herself.

Diedre turned to face him. “So, carpenter Jack of the bad date and worse words, what exactly are you trying to say? If you embarrass yourself, it’s not like you’ll ever see me again.”

Jack took a breath. He’d never tried being completely honest with a woman he just met. “I think you’re…interesting. I find your blatant honesty…a relief, and to be perfectly blunt, I think you’re sexy as hell despite being covered in vomit and smelling like trash. I’m considering asking you out, but I’m afraid I haven’t made a very good impression.”

The corner of her mouth kicked up in a brief smirk. “You don’t smell so wonderful yourself, mister.” She walked to him and retrieved her I.D. from his grasp. “You’re not as far off the mark as you think. Not many people would offer to help a stranger pick trash.”

Ch.2

            It was a risk, baiting this man, to her person and to her heart. The testosterone rolled off him in waves, and Diedre’s traitorous body reacted to it. His date was an idiot. She could let herself have one night of fun while still guarding her heart. Her fresh start in a new town didn’t include a new man. She’d have to keep her feelings on strict lockdown. “What would you do if I gave you one night to show me a good time?”

“Shower.” He blinked then reddened. “I mean, I’d shower first. Unless you’re up for that.”

She pretended not to consider it. “Smooth. Don’t ruin your stellar first impression. If I let you leave, the spell will be broken. What can we do after a thorough handwashing in the restroom?”

Jack’s face blanked and Diedre could almost see his wheels turning before he smiled. “I have just the thing. Trust me?”

****

Twenty minutes later and against her better judgement, Diedre sat buckled into the passenger side of Jack’s truck. Dinner was takeout from a drive thru, but he let her choose the restaurant so she couldn’t hold it against him. She’d sent a text to her roommate, sharing her location, just in case. As they drove further out of town and into a rural, woodsy area, she worried that precaution might come in handy.

“Are you taking me this far out to make it easier to dump my body?”

Jack’s chiseled features were barely illuminated by the dash; they’d left streetlights behind fifteen minutes before. “No. You only gave me one night to wow you. I wouldn’t waste it trying to pick a new dumping spot.” The corner of his mouth creased as he struggled to keep a straight face.

She smiled, relieved. Serial killers didn’t joke about serial killing. “Glad you have your priorities straight. Where are we going?”

“Here.” Jack slowed and turned down a dirt road. One dirty bulb hung over a weathered road sign, but Diedre missed the words.

They pulled into a muddy parking lot filled with more pickup trucks than she’d ever seen in one place before. Good ol’ boys were hanging around, chatting, and a few women mingled among them. They all carried guns.

She spun to Jack, wrapping her hands around the belt across her chest in case he thought to forcibly remove her. “You know, this looks like a great time and all, but I just remembered I have an early appointment tomorrow.”

Jack unbuckled and gave her a confused look. “Are you afraid of paintball? It was the only place I could think of we could show up already dirty.” He frowned. “I can take you back if you want.”

Diedre looked out her window again. The assemblage started moving toward a small warehouse at the corner of the lot as another group, more brightly colored than the first, trudged from the building to the parking lot.

“Come on. If we can get registered quick, we can join this group. Otherwise, we’ll have to wait a while for the next one.” His gaze searched hers and she nodded.

One hour and a thousand or so rounds later, mud, paint, and pumpkin guts covered all traces of dumpster residue and Diedre was glad Jack was on her team. Jack thumped to the ground next to where she hid behind a plywood barricade. “Having fun?” he asked.

She smiled. “You certainly have a funny idea about what constitutes as a good time. Why the pumpkins?” She joked, but she was having a blast. Broken pumpkins and innards littered the ground. Players couldn’t throw pumpkins or shells at others, but slime and seeds were fair game and added a slippery element to an already challenging activity.

“It’s called Smashing Pumpkins. They buy all the leftover fundraiser pumpkins from the church we passed.” Jack’s eyes sparkled. “Are you wowed?”

She laughed. “I am. But what about the mess?”

“They close for the season after this week and critters eat the mess all winter. The paint is nontoxic,” he added.

They were shoulder to shoulder on the ground. The overhead lights scattered throughout the playing field cast shadows, and hid enemies. Suddenly, Diedre was aware of everywhere their bodies touched; shoulders, hips, legs. The warzone around them fell away as their gazes caught and held. Jack leaned in. Diedre closed the distance. Her lips met his tentatively until he took over the kiss.

Jack’s mouth demanded all her attention. Thoughts of avoiding relationships fled. She’d been kissed before, lots of times. Never had a kiss held such promise of more. More what? She wasn’t sure, but she didn’t think it was simply more casual fun.

“Ah!” Jack rolled away. “Someone just shot me in the ass.”

She rose and he joined her, positioning himself between her and possibly more enemy fire. “Stay low. It may have been a lucky shot. We’re in the shadows.”

“Get a room!” A yell came from somewhere to their left. “You’re fogging up my night vision goggles.” Laughter came from elsewhere on the grounds.

Jack grinned. “Want to make a run for it? I’m out of ammo. Switch guns with me so I can cover us.”

“I’ve got this. I’ll protect you.”

They made a mad dash for the warehouse, both taking a hit or two to their backsides. Diedre fired aimlessly but hit nothing of note. They made it to the safe zone and collapsed in a laughing heap.

“What now?” she asked.

Jack’s brows rose. “You want more wowing? I don’t know if I can top this.”

“I’m not ready for the night to end. My adrenaline’s pumping.” She wanted to explore kissing again and figure out what it meant.

“Is the shower suggestion back on the table?” Jack’s voice murmured close to her ear.

“Ask me again in a week.”

He leaned back, surprise evident on his face. “You want to continue this for a week?”

She hesitated. “I thought that’s what that kiss back there was about.”

“It was, but I didn’t think it would work that fast.” He grinned.

“It won’t hurt to try it again.” She angled her chin.

Jack caught her lips in another searing kiss. At this rate it wouldn’t take him a week to get her in the shower.

Diedre pulled away. “I moved here for a fresh start. Men and dating weren’t part of my plan.”

He touched his forehead to hers. “Not men, man. Just me. And we don’t have to call what we’re doing dating. Don’t let a bad experience with someone else make you miss out on something that could be amazing.”

Her ex had already taken so much, why was she letting him steal this possibility from her, too? What were the odds of their serendipitous meeting? Slim. “Okay. Take me to dinner and I promise to give you a chance.”

Jack grinned. “And I promise not to slip out the back.”