Page 7 of Miles. Alton & The 9:04 (Modern Mail Order Brides #19)

T HOM STOOD ON THE BACK porch of the small empire he was attempting to build.

He took offense to Petr Qwill gnawing away at months of planning, measuring, and carefully crafting the chair as a metaphor for his life.

He had carefully crafted a plan to get himself a wife, a little woman to work alongside him to build his vision.

At this point, he wanted to fly to New York and thump that Coraline woman in her neck.

In his heart, he wanted to request a refund for the services unrendered, but he didn't pay the fee. Mateo paid it for him.

“Maybe I'm asking for the wrong thing,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Maybe I'm ugly and nobody told me. They liked me on the phone and enjoyed talking to me, and I sexualized none of it. Maybe that was the problem. I'm not sexually appealing?”

Doubts crept into his mind after being physically and mentally rejected in person by two women who’d anxiously awaited his calls each week. Tomorrow was the last of the three he'd chosen, and if it didn't work out, he wasn't putting himself through the process again to start over.

“They all made it seem so simple. Macalister, Adriano, Kimbrae, Mateo, Jeremy, but not for me,” he said aloud, watching Jiminy pull into the drive space.

“Hey!” Jiminy called out as he unloaded the red wagon from the back of the pickup.

“Hey nothing,” Thom said. “You live ten miles down the road. How did Petr even get here?”

Jiminy shrugged his shoulders like a kid when asked who broke Mom's favorite lamp. “Maybe his porcupine balls are dropping.”

“What?”

“Petr is becoming mature and has begun spraying urine. I think he's ready to find him a porcupette to love on,” Jiminy said. “Could be why he's traveled so far from home, making him hungry like this. He's looking for porcupine love. Hey, speaking of love, I thought number two was going to be here.”

Thom didn't want to discuss it with Jiminy or anyone. He simply had nothing to say on the matter. However, Jiminy had plenty to say.

“Hey, speaking of balls dropping,” Jiminy said, cutting his eyes at Thom.

“George Carter was at the Hunt and Peck when you came in with the mousy little ghost hunting, beekeeping, stamp-collecting lady.

She sure has a lot of hobbies, which won't leave a lot of time for loving on you. Is that what happened?”

“I'm beginning to wonder if George Carter is stalking me,” Thom countered.

“No, people like you. They want to see you in a relationship with a little oddball woman who gets you, plus you're weird in a non-threatening way,” he explained.

“Jiminy, I'm tired. The last two days have taken a chunk out of me, and I have one more to go,” he said.

“Hey. I'm here. I know you took down something to throw on the grill. You need some company and Petr is enjoying that chair,” he said. “I'll replace the wood and even work with you to rebuild the chair, but I'm more worried about you.”

“You need to be worried about your horny porcupine.”

Jiminy’s bushy eyebrows shot up on his wide forehead. “Hey. Do you ever wonder how they do it?”

Thom didn't know if he liked Jiminy or not. The man was odd and started nearly every sentence with hey, as if he needed to get your attention before speaking. Maybe he was having an off day and didn't want to handle any nonsense.

“Jiminy, what are you talking about?”

“Porcupines. How do they mate? I mean, I don't want to go searching for videos or anything like I'm searching for porcupine porn, but do you think the sow, that's the girl porcupine, flattens her quills for the hog right before he's about to climb on and do his business?”

“I honestly think I don't like you,” Thom said.

“Hey. I was trying to do some research on it and found they can do it in a tree,” Jiminy explained. “I'm thinking, she raises her tail, like a porcupine skirt, and covers the quills to give him access to the love hole.”

“Go home. Please, just go home.”

Jiminy was quiet. He watched Petr gnawing on the plywood Thom had used to make the chairs. It was the resin in the plywood that Petr was enjoying. It reminded him of his wife when she first learned there were sexual techniques she enjoyed more than others.

“I never talked about Sophia, my wife, and what happened,” Jiminy said.

“She liked raising her skirt, too. I mean, hey, since I worked nights, she didn't want to disturb my sleep, so I got her the She-shed for the backyard.

I installed a camera system, you know, just in case, with her offering private yoga sessions back there, something would go awry.

I didn't install it to spy on her, but my cousin Milbert don't know nuffin' bout no yoga, and he was coming back there every day, especially after I went to work.”

“Jiminy, I'm sorry that happened to you.”

“Hey. Don't be,” he said. “I have learned in my life that not everything that happens is happening to you, but sometimes for you.

See, Sophia was a good girl. She didn't have a hoe phase in college because she never went to college or traveled or did anything until she met me.

I showed her a different life with yearly vacations and weekend getaways, but then she discovered yoga.

Something in her opened up and her hoe phase kicked in.

Being able to put her right toe behind her ear must have realigned her love hole or something, because that thing was constantly damp.

I couldn't keep up with the demand and honestly, I felt like a slab of meat with how often she rode me.

After a while, it turned me off instead of on.

That's why she turned to Milbert. He's a hoe and nothing phases that dude.”

“Dear Lord, stop talking,” Thom whispered.

“Hey. I'm opening up here, starting our bromance.”

“You don't have to do that for me. I'm okay.”

“You're not, but hey, I just need you to know, that sometimes, as men we get it wrong too,” Jiminy said.

“What you think you want in a woman isn't what you need in a life partner. I thought having a little lady at home to start and raise a family was what I wanted, but all she got was bored. She started yoga, I tried to do the stretches, and it opened my hole too. I got a helluva lot of gas, and all that farting made her put me out of the little She-shed. I mean, I got my toe behind my ear and it must have relaxed my sphincter because it came out like a bunch of raspberries from kids on the playground blowing spit bubbles.”

Jiminy proceeded to demonstrate the move.

He removed a leather loafer flexing his toes.

In a swift motion, he kicked his leg into the air, as if he were doing a forward-facing axe kick, then he shifted his butt cheek, bringing his toe to his ear.

Jiminy inhaled slowly and when he exhaled, a loud raspberry swoosh of stinky air emanated from his bottom.

The man blushed, and said, “see there. Every single time.”

“Please go home and take your wood-molesting quill pig with you,” Thom said.

“Thom, hey. Man. Seriously. My momma told me to pray on it and ask the universe for what I needed,” Jiminy said bring down his leg and putting his shoe on.

“I prayed for clarity, and then I took an early lunch and came home to find Sophia doing the nasty with Milbert.

You know he suggested I should join in with the two of them?

When I refused, he honestly offered to go home and get his sister.

I was like, man, you do realize she's also my cousin, and that fool said you know she's cute with that big ol’ camel toe. He even asked me if I fantasized about licking it, then admitted he often did. I was disgusted.”

“Pretty much like I am now,” Thom said.

“Hey, Thom. I prayed on it, and the next day, Lucy Roberts, who is a divorce attorney and Milbert's former fiancé, took my case pro-bono. I got away from Sophia without having to pay her alimony or care or upkeep,” he said.

“I'm thinking about renting out the She-shed, which is actually a mini one-bedroom house with a kitchen and bathroom. I could be making money with it.”

It was then that Thom Brown actually smiled.

As ludicrous as the conversation was, buried in one of the damp holes Jiminy referenced was a bout of wisdom.

Tonight, before he went to bed, he planned to have a little talk with Jesus to see if He could help make it right.

His stomach growled loudly. He had really eaten little breakfast, the company for lunch had killed his appetite, and now he was really and truly hungry.

“I tell you what. I have a few chicken cutlets I was planning to place on the grill with a bit of asparagus and some corn on the cob. Let me get that going and we can eat some dinner,” he told Jiminy.

“Hey, thank you, man. I get tired of eating alone,” Jiminy said.

“I'm not tired enough to get another woman, but now and then, coming home to a body to talk to would be nice.

I share my day; she tells me about hers.

Hell, at this point, I'd settle for hearing about your train dusting schedule. Seriously, though, is there a dusting schedule for that museum? That shit looks like a lot of work.”

“Anything worthwhile requires work, Jiminy,” Thom said, not realizing that the words he spoke into the universe would return to haunt him.