Chapter 2
Shorts had shed his T-shirt and pulled it over his head, wrapping part over his nose and mouth to repel the dust as he started sanding down the rough spots. Wow, did he have a bod—six-pack abs and sleek muscles under a deep tan gleaming with sweat as he worked in the midday sun. Camo pants seemed to be the carpenter of the pair. His sure, economical moves with hammer, jigsaw and a small pry bar gave Keely shocking images of such confident work-roughened hands on her skin. Sparkling energies danced along her nerves at the idea.
In the fifteen months since Mike’s sudden death from a ruptured aneurism, she really had hardly thought of sex. The aching gap in her life didn’t leave room for memories of pleasure, for longing or lust. Her other emotions and needs had been absorbed into a black hole of despair. Now her big change seemed to have blasted her free at last.
I feel like the princess awakened from her long slumber. An imp of guilt nibbled at her, but she shoved it aside. Shoot, Mike’s gone, and I’m still here. Anyway, a few secret lusty notions won’t hurt anybody. It all feels good, though. So did the tingles of awareness that had her nipples stiffening and moist heat itching between her legs.
About one o’clock, they knocked off and got sack lunches out of the car, before sitting down cross-legged under a straggly tree in the back yard to eat. Acting on an impulse, Keely whipped up a big pitcher of lemonade, dumped a tray of ice cubes into it and grabbed a couple of plastic glasses. Then she walked out with as much studied nonchalance as she could summon.
“Hey, guys, how does a cold drink sound?”
“Like a piece of heaven,” Shorts said. “By the way, I guess we ought to introduce ourselves. We’ll be hanging around here for several days. This big galoot’s Tim Calhoun, and I’m Jerry Alioso.”
Keely gave each man a smile before she set the pitcher down on the low cement wall and then proceeded to fill the two glasses. “I’m glad to meet you both. My name’s Keely Sandoval. I just moved in last week so I’m still trying to get settled. When I stopped unpacking to grab some lunch, I saw you guys looked awfully hot. It must be a hundred in the shade today. I’ve had the cooler running since about nine, but it doesn’t seem to be doing much good.”
Jerry shrugged. “We’re used to the heat. I guess the LA basin is about as close to home for us as any place, but we’ve been working in this area all summer. Sure do thank you for thinking of us, though, don’t we, Tim?”
“You betcha.” Tim nodded, grinning. He took one glass and drained it in about three swallows. Keely poured him a refill before he could ask.
Although she felt like a silly teenager, hanging around to watch the guy she had a crush on as if she had nothing better to do, Keely could not make herself go back indoors. If she did anything, it would be to dig out her paints and a mid-sized canvas and try to capture a pair of brown male torsos in an appropriate setting. She tended to do more landscapes and still life than figures, but with inspiration like these two, normal themes did not appeal. They were both beautiful in the manner of a famous sculpture or similar classic pieces. Their faces might be rougher and they might both be far from the current boy toy models, but those work-honed bodies were totally appealing and utterly sexy!
Not long after she finally forced herself to go back indoors, the two painters collected their equipment, stashed it in the open shed in the back yard and quit for the day. With a strong reluctance, Keely went back to the now-dull job of trying to put her new home in order.
* * * *
“One hot-looking babe, eh?” Tim made the observation as he slid into the passenger seat of the old Subaru when they loaded up to leave for the day.
Jerry shrugged. “Yeah, for around here, I’d have to agree. I’ve seen better on the beaches back home in sunny Cal, but this is Podunk, New Mexico. Seems like all the gals here are either fat, dragging a passel of kids, about seventy-five, looking for a meal ticket or some combo of the above.”
After flashing his partner a quick look, Tim guffawed. “Aw, come on, you’re just sour about the latest shit your ex is trying to pull. She might’ve looked hot in a bikini at one time, but that’s not doing you any good now.”
Jerry scowled at that comment, although he did agree. Ex-wives were bad news, almost always. “You can say that again. The hot looking ones are the worst in the long run. Fuck a plain woman and she’ll be so grateful she’ll let ya spend the night and feed you the next morning. In the dark, all women are sisters anyway. Most of ‘em have the same standard equipment.”
“This gal seems nice enough, anyway. That lemonade sure hit the spot.”
Jamming on the brakes that he suspected were starting to fail, Jerry pulled in behind the rundown apartment complex where they had found temporary accommodations. He’d been an itinerant painter and handyman for some years now, ever since divorce had put him out of house and home. A guy could live pretty cheap if his tastes were simple, he’d found.