Torn

Chapter Two - Nate Hudson

"Hey beautiful, what's your name?" I called, cocking my head to watch her sexy ass swaying as she headed outside.

"Sky, Sky Torres," she replied as she looked back over her shoulder, those gorgeous brown eyes smiling back at me before she looked away. Jesus, that soft sultry voice had made my cock perk up the second I heard it.

I grinned, my eyes not leaving her curvy body as she crossed the road. It made a refreshing change to find a girl that didn't faint or go all giggly when she met me, or ask me to autograph something for them, including their tits or ass. I was kind of bored with having my pick of women in this town, and when this girl had told me she'd recently moved here, I'd been happier about that news than I'd expected to be for a girl I'd only just met. I reached up and rubbed my cheek where her small palm had touched it as she'd tended to my cut. I was used to getting some feeling from touching up women, usually centered on the favorite part of my anatomy between my legs, but I'd never felt anything like I just had when she'd touched me. A crackle so intense it had probably been audible. Fuck, it had taken all of my self-restraint not to grab her and kiss her as she'd stood so close, looking up at me as she bit her lower lip in concentration.

I wheeled her bike to the back of the shop and quickly repaired it, then checked my watch. I still had thirty-five minutes of my break left. If I could shower and get changed in under ten, that left me twenty-odd minutes to go and get to know her a bit better. Find out why she was here and for how long, and more importantly, if she wanted to go on a date with me. I was so damn busy with college, baseball, and trying to cram in as many hours as possible here at the shop for some extra cash, I'd barely even had time to make out with a girl lately, let alone fuck one. My balls were turning blue.

I closed up and headed to the small restroom at the back of the shop, where we had one toilet, two urinals, a sink, some lockers, and a freezing cold shower. Why JT didn't just get the boiler fixed was beyond me, but I seemed to be the only guy who ever showered here. My first job every time I came in was to scrub the damn toilet clean, since none of JT's regular guys had any concept of hygiene. I coated my hands in GOJO from the wall dispenser, quickly getting rid of any signs of dirt trapped under my nails, then hastily stripped off and set a record-breaking time for a shower and rub down before opening my locker and getting back into my clean clothes from this morning. I took a second to send a text to my ma to check she was ok. My dad's death two years ago had been a shock to us all. She and Josh had fallen apart, but as the new man of the house at the tender age of eighteen, it had been up to me to step up and take his place. I hadn't had time to grieve his loss yet. Ma had been too distraught to return to work after the funeral and had taken unpaid leave, but had never gone back. The funeral had been left to me to organize, as well as trying to work out the finances and pay the bills. I'd juggled college and training with as many hours here as I could, just to keep us afloat until the life insurance paid out, which had taken some time.

Dad had been a helicopter pilot, usually taking tourists out over the Vegas Strip and Grand Canyon. When he'd crashed, his co-pilot and two tourists on board had been killed as well. There'd been a massive investigation as to whether he was at fault or not, or if he could have been suicidal. That had been the insurance company's main focus, anything to get out of paying up. Thankfully the crash investigators pieced together enough evidence to prove that it had been unavoidable. There had been an electrical systems failure and they never stood a chance. So we received a payout from both the life insurance company and the company that had failed to service the helicopter correctly, resulting in wrongful death. We had enough money to pay off the mortgage, to make up the shortfall on my college scholarship for my four-year degree, and to pay for my brother's degree too. We were left with a small nest egg that was invested in mine and Ma's names, which just about gave us enough of an income for food and bills, after her daily alcohol allowance, which had become her only priority in life. To this day she hadn't recovered from losing him. Drinking was her way of coping with the pain, and she was rarely sober.