My Man Pendleton(42)
Author: Elizabeth Bevarly

“Probably building a guillotine,” she muttered to herself. Ah, well. Only one way to find out.

It took her almost no time to take a bath and change clothes. She opted for blue jeans and a bright purple turtleneck that fell to mid-thigh. Maury began to bark incessantly the moment she hit the bottom step outside, and the clamor in the shed-thing abruptly halted.

“Pendleton?” she called out as she approached, thinking that, if this were a Wes Craven movie, the spooky ax-murderer music would start kicking in right about now. “Everything okay in there?”

Not much to her surprise, she received no reply. Except for the constant Awr-awr!…Awr-awr-awr! from Maury as he ran in maddening circles around her feet.

“Down, boy,” she instructed the dog, wondering why she bothered. He was about as obedient as Pendleton was. Sure enough, Maury only increased his frenzied movements in response. Kit rolled her eyes and drew cautiously closer to the shed-thing. “Pendleton?” she tried again. “Sweetie? Is that you in there?”

“Go away.”

Yep, it was Pendleton in there, all right. “What are you doing?”

“Go…away.”

Dissuaded by neither a surly attitude nor the potential for becoming a homicide victim, Kit continued valiantly, “When I woke up alone this morning, I was worried about you.”

He still didn’t emerge from the shed-thing, but Kit still wasn’t quite brave enough to chance a look inside.

“Why would you be worried?” his voice came from the other side of the open door. “Unless maybe you thought I might have hanged myself in the stairwell during the night. Which, as we both know, is a definite possibility.”

“Would that be that you were hanged or you were hung?” she asked. “I never did know the difference between the two.”

That, at last, roused him from inside. When he poked his head through the door, Kit had to catch her breath at the sight of him, because he was really… very… quite… well …breathtaking. His dark hair was tousled all over his head, though whether blown there by the cold wind or because he hadn’t bothered to comb it since rising, she had no idea. Nor did it matter. Even tousled, Pendleton was way too handsome. Worse, he had on a chocolate-brown sweater almost the same color as his eyes, one that did absolutely nothing to hide what she knew were a phenomenal chest and spectacular shoulders. Worse still, he was wearing a pair of those faded 501s, and she realized that they were worn and snug in all the right places.

His breath left his mouth in a rush of white steam, as if he were breathing very hard in an effort to contain himself. “Go. Away.”

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

He dipped his head in defeat. “No, you didn’t. You wanted to do something to bother me. Admit it.”

She gasped at him. “That’s not true.” Much to her surprise, Kit discovered that it really wasn’t true. What an interesting development. She tucked her hands into her armpits. Man, it was cold out here. And not just because of Pendleton’s reception, either. “What are you doing in there?” she asked him again.

For a moment, she didn’t think he was going to answer. Then, out of nowhere, he smiled, the way a man would smile if he were doing something he really enjoyed. So Kit felt pretty certain the smile wasn’t for her, but for whatever he was doing before she intruded.

“Building the perfect beast,” he told her.

She smiled back. “Oooh, sounds neato. Can I help?”

He glanced over his shoulder, then back at Kit. “There are those who might argue that you’re the design for the perfect beast, you know.”

Her smile fell. How nice of him to remind her.

“You should know, since you’re one of them,” she said, not quite able to keep the hurt from her voice.

He seemed to give the suggestion weighty consideration before replying, “Not necessarily.’

“Look, can I come in or not?”

“Why would you want to?”

She shrugged. “Just to visit. I’ve missed you, Pendleton. You haven’t been home much.” She told herself she did not sound petulant when she said that.

“I’ve been home every night,” he objected.

“Oh, sure, your body has.”

Now his smile turned into something else, something that was decidedly—uh-oh—playful. “Been noticing my body have you?” he asked.

“Only its absence.”

“You just said it was here.”

“You know what I meant.”

“No, I don’t. Enlighten me.”

Yeah, she’d enlighten him, all right. She’d enlighten him all the way back to New Jersey if he didn’t knock off the boyish flirtation bit. Like she was dumb enough to fall for that.

“Look, can I come in or not?” she repeated. He actually seemed disappointed that she put a stop to their repartee. Like he was really the type of man to go for repartee. But he jerked his head back toward the interior in silent invitation, then disappeared inside himself. Before he had a chance to rescind the offer, Kit followed, only to find the dirt-packed floor of the shed-thing covered with lots of car part-things. Or rather, she decided upon closer inspection, what appeared to be…bike-part things?

“What on earth are you doing?”

“I’m working on my bike,” he replied, verifying her suspicions.

“Like a Schwinn bike?” she asked.

He shook his head and thrust a thumb over his shoulder. “Like a Harley-Davidson bike.”

She looked in the direction he’d indicated and, sure enough, saw a big ol’ Harley hog—well, most of a big ol’ Harley hog, anyway—leaning against the side of the shed-thing. One wheel was off, and the chain was drooping, but all in all, the big black monstrosity looked very scary.

“Oh,” she said.

He glanced over at her with a curious gaze. “Oh?”

She scrunched up her shoulders. “Well, it’s just that you don’t much seem like the Harley-Davidson type.”

“But I do seem like the Schwinn type?”

“Well, no…”

“Then why the look of disbelief?”

Good question, she thought. Too bad she didn’t have a good answer to go with. “I don’t know. It’s just unexpected, that’s all. Does it run?”

He laughed as he stooped beside the collection of oily, greasy guy things scattered on the dirt floor, and she realized then that his hands were streaked and smudged black in places with the remnants of his labor. For some reason, the sight of his dirty hands skimming so carefully over the odds and ends sent a thrill of heat crashing through her body. With no small effort, she shook the sensation off.