Bastard(11)

“I used to spend hours helping my dad work on his car when I was a teenager. If you ever need a hand with anything, I’d love to help out.” His offer makes me smile. Why couldn’t my mum have married someone like Ross Montgomery?

“I’d like that,” I tell him honestly, because I would. With my track record, I usually have my guard up around strangers, especially older males, but for some reason with him I don’t. After all, my father never wanted me, my grandfather rejected me, and my stepfather hates me with a passion. Ross seems like a genuine guy though.

I like him already.

“Can I have a look under the hood?” he asks.

“Sure.” I reach inside and pull the lever and follow him around to the front of the car.

“Do you know much about the mechanics of the car?” he asks as he waits for me to open the hood. I watch as he runs his hand over the paintwork. A small smile plays on his lips. I love that he appreciates this car as much as I do.

“I was lucky the guy I bought the car off still had the manual, but no, not much. I’m learning fast though.”

“Well, when you’ve got some spare time, I’d be happy to show you what I know.”

“I’m free now,” I say way too eagerly. The thought of working on the car with him excites me for some reason. Not sure why. Maybe it’s because no one has ever taken time out to help me in the past. Except my mum of course, but she knows shit about cars.

“Okay. I’m working the night shift later, but I can spare an hour or so. Give me a few minutes to change and we can get started.”

Stepping away from the car, I reach for his hand again. “Thank you, Mr. Montgomery. I really appreciate your offer.”

“Don’t sweat it, son. I’m happy to help. And please, call me Ross. I’m going to enjoy this,” he says smoothing his hand over the hood when I close it. “I haven’t worked on a car for years. These days they’re all computerised.”

As we stand there chatting, Indi walks across the front lawn. She must have caught the bus home. “Pumpkin,” her father says when she wraps her tiny arms around his waist. He leans down and kisses the top of her head. “How was school, baby girl?”

“School was okay.” She looks my way and narrows her eyes. I feel the smile on my face grow. I may not think much of her, but I like her spunk. I love that my antics get under her skin. I also admire the fact she gives as good as she gets. Most girls in her position would cry.

“Have you met Carter yet?” her father asks.

“Yes, we’ve met,” she replies dryly. “I’m gonna go and do my homework. Did you get the meat out of the freezer?”

“I sure did,” he says.

“Okay, I’ll get started on dinner soon.” When she walks away we both stare after her. My eyes are glued to her arse. I’m pretty sure her father’s aren’t.

“She’s such a good kid,” he says. “I’m lucky to have her.” I don’t reply. How can I? My feelings for her are all over the place. I hate and lust over her all at the same time. It’s totally fucking with my head.



After I’ve changed I head back to the car where Ross is already waiting. He’s laid out some tools on the ground. Apparently they belonged to his father. He seems really keen to help me. I can already tell I’m going to enjoy spending time with him. I hope he will feel the same about me too.

He reminisces while we work and has some funny stories. Time goes by pretty fast. I’m really enjoying hanging with him. He’s not only a nice guy, but he’s taught me a lot already.

“What do you think about your daughter dating?” I ask out of the blue.

“Why?” he answers frowning at me. “Do you want to date her?”

“Me? Fu … Ummm no.” I can’t believe I almost drop the F bomb in front of him.

Cocking his head he asks, “Why wouldn’t you want to date her?” He says it like he’s offended I don’t want to. Jesus. Why did I even bring this up?

“I just heard something today at school.” I know that it’s low of me to tell her father what Brad said, but there’s no way I’m letting her go to that cocksucker’s place on the weekend. Especially now I know what his intentions are. I’m not jealous or anything. Well that’s what I’m telling myself. It just doesn’t sit well with me.

“What did you hear?” he asks turning his head in my direction while we’re both bent over the hood of the car. I see his grip tighten around the wrench in his hand. His knuckles have turned white. Maybe pissing him off while he’s holding that bludgeoning tool in his hand wasn’t my smartest move.