The one upside to this entire mess? Now she had the resources and the motivation to hire some painters. She’d planned to do all the painting herself to save a few dollars, but maybe this was a sign from the universe telling her to go with some professionals.
And then she did the next best thing. She called Renee. This kind of mess was right up her alley.
Chapter 17
Ben was trimming back the sadly overgrown and misshapen bushes in the front of his house when Carli’s white SUV pulled into the garage next door. Moments later she appeared outside with Gus on a leash, and after he did his doggie business, she slowly walked with him around the perimeter of her yard, where just a few of the electric-fencing flags remained. Ben had seen her doing this a couple of times a day, and the dog seemed to be catching on. From the looks of things, Ben’s future dinners were safe.
“Good boy, Gus,” Carli said, patting his head. Her hair was loose today, and she wore the same formfitting, sleeveless red dress she’d been wearing on TV that morning. He knew because he’d watched her show for the past week. He wasn’t sure exactly why he’d watched her show, because he was more of a breaking-news, stock-market-report, daily-weather-update kind of viewer, but Addie had ridden home from school with Mia a few days ago and had heard all about it, so he’d decided to tune in just to satisfy his curiosity.
Watching Glenville in the Morning, he’d discovered a much different Carli Lancaster staring back at him through the TV screen. Gone was the typically flustered woman who lived next door. This Carli was polished and poised without being the least bit artificial. She seemed remarkably adept at making conversation with that asshat she shared the anchor desk with, and that guy was a complete tool. Ben knew him from the Glenville Estates Country Club, where everyone jokingly referred to him as Troy Fuckman because he always cheated at golf.
Carli seemed to have a nice, easygoing camaraderie with the blonde, too, but aside from being a savvy cohost, Carli was damn easy on the eyes. He’d determined that a couple of weeks ago, of course, but seeing her on camera made it even more obvious. Something was different about TV Carli. Something basic and biological that continued to trigger familiar cravings deep inside and tug at him in inconvenient ways.
He took a hearty chop at the branches of his shrub, a physical nipping it in the bud sort of gesture that made him laugh at himself. Yes, Carli was attractive, but he had the good sense to recognize that the stirring in his gut had less to do with her and more to do with the fact that he missed sex. Sophia, for all her complaints and avoidance, had at least been around enough to fill that void. Maybe he needed a night out with friends. Or a booty call. With someone other than his next-door neighbor. There’d been a handful of women who’d reached out to him after hearing of his impending divorce. How they knew about it, he couldn’t imagine. But they’d homed in as if he’d sent out a bat signal. He could call one of them, right? Certainly, that’s why they’d called. Right? Maybe a little no-strings sex was what he needed.
“Hi.” Carli’s voice cut through his thoughts, and his skin burned, as if she could tell he was standing there in his front yard trying to figure out how to get laid.
“Hi,” he said, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat.
“Do you mind if I ask for a favor?” she said.
Sweet Jesus. If she asked him for a booty call right now, this was going to be the best day ever.
Gus was sitting patiently beside her, his tongue wagging as he panted in the afternoon sun, and Ben quickly realized her favor was going to be far less fun that what he hoped for.
“Um, sure.” He dropped the gardening shears onto the grass and walked her way. “Please tell me you’re not locked out.”
Her smile was warm, and that tug in his gut gave another yank. “I’m not locked out. I’m trying to test Gus on the fence, but I need someone to hold his leash so he doesn’t run through. He needs to learn that I can leave the yard, but he can’t. Mrs. Stern says that every time I let him fail, it takes ten times as many successes, so would you mind just holding on to him for a minute?”
“Mrs. Stern?”
“The dog trainer. She scares me.”
“Ah, yes. I remember you mentioning her before. Is that the woman in the tweed jacket?” He’d seen her in the yard with Carli and the dog. She was scary.
“Yes. And I’m paying her one hundred million dollars to help me turn Gus into a useful member of society.”
“Rehabilitation from his meat-stealing days?”
“Exactly.”
“In that case, I’d be glad to assist.” This would not be as fun as a couple of hours of afternoon delight, but it was also far less fraught with potential complications. Ben crossed over to where she stood, and Gus began to shimmy with the joy of having someone to say hello to. He petted the dog with both hands, getting a smattering of doggie kisses in return.
“Thanks a bunch,” Carli said. “I appreciate it. The kids are supposed to help me with training him, and yet they’re always scarce when I need them.”
“I can relate. I asked Ethan three days ago to unload the dishwasher. He’s still warming up to the idea.”
“Sounds very familiar. How’s he handling everything? Does he like the new house?”
Ben straightened up from his stance over the dog and brushed dirt from his shirt. He was grimy from yard work and wished he wasn’t. Not that Carli would care one way or the other, but Ben had been brought up by a man who wore suits every day, including Sunday.
“He likes the house all right. I mean, it’s not quite what he’s used to, but now that the refrigerator is fully stocked and the internet works, he’s satisfied.” Ben was tempted to add that Addie still hadn’t slept over but thought it might seem odd, or too personal. Or that maybe it wasn’t a great reflection on him. The furniture they’d ordered for her was scheduled to arrive tomorrow, and he hoped to get her bedroom set up by the weekend. The flooring was in the process of being installed, and the upstairs bedrooms were carpeted. There were couches and some chairs, and the new kitchen cabinets were also installed. Every day something happened to make the place a bit more livable. He’d even invited Kenzie and her husband and kids over for dinner on Friday night, thinking that might give his place more of a family feel. That was another thing he now realized he’d taken for granted—that sense of belonging to a family unit. It took some time becoming a party of three.
“How about Addie?” Carli asked, as if she really could read his thoughts. “Mia gave her a ride home the other day and said she’s very sweet.”
“Thanks. I think so, too, but it’s always nice to hear someone else confirm. And please tell Mia she appreciated the ride. She hates taking the school bus, and I was in a meeting that day.”
Carli nodded and stroked the dog’s fur. “Of course. Anytime. And if you ever, you know, need to talk about the whole single-parenting thing, I’m available. It’s a whole new world out here.”
Ben paused, thinking it might be nice to confide in someone other than his sister. “You’re telling me. I’ve had conversations with my kids over the past couple of months that I never thought I’d be having.”
“Yep. Every day is an adventure. Anyway, thanks for giving me a hand with the dog.”
“No problem. It’s in my best interest to keep him on this side of the fence.”
Carli handed Ben the leash, and they walked around for a minute before she stepped into his yard. Gus twitched and most definitely wanted to follow her, but his collar gave off a high-pitched tone every time he got too close to the edge of the yard. After a couple of minutes, he just sat down and waited. The three of them went through the motions a few more times, and each time, the dog seemed less agitated by the fact that she wasn’t next to him.
“Hey, good job this morning, by the way,” Ben said as she stepped back and forth from her yard to his.
“This morning?”
“Yeah, on TV. You did a good job.”
Her brows rose in surprise
. “You saw that?”
“Um, it was on TV. I think a lot of people probably saw it.”
“Right. Of course. I mean, I hope a lot of people saw it, I just . . . Well, thanks. I’m a little green. It’s my first on-air job. I’ve been pretty nervous.”
“Really? You didn’t seem nervous at all.”
“I breathe into a paper bag during every commercial break.”
“If that’s true, you cover it well. I’m totally impressed. I had no idea I’d moved in next door to a celebrity.”
Carli’s laughter burst forth like confetti, and he found himself laughing with her, although he wasn’t sure why. He wasn’t sure why it was such an appealing sight, either. But it was, and he decided to quickly change the subject. “Hey, by the way, did I see painters here the other day? I need someone to paint all my interiors.”
Carli’s laughter dwindled away, but her smile remained. “I had someone here to paint my living room and kitchen. They have to come back to finish the rest. I’m doing a few rooms at a time but started there because this guy”—she thumped Gus on the head—“demolished a couple of houseplants one day and did the doggie equivalent of finger painting all over my floors and my walls.”
“Bad dog.”
“Uh-huh. And all over my couch and kitchen cabinets. Plus, he’s been pooping out sofa-cushion stuffing for days.”
“Very bad dog.”
“But at least he’s catching on to the electric fence, and he did give me an excuse to do the painting that I’d been wanting to do.”
“In that case, I guess good dog?”
“Jury’s still out, but if you’d like the number for the painters, I can give it to you.”
“That would be great. Thanks.”
“My phone’s in the kitchen. Come inside and I’ll find their contact information.” Then she chuckled again as she turned away. “A celebrity,” she muttered under her breath and shook her head.
“That is the biggest frickin’ dog crate I have ever seen in my life,” Ben said as he followed Carli into her house. He kicked off his shoes and nudged them onto the new rug she’d left by the front door. It was bright yellow with a big butterfly on it. Steve would’ve hated it, which made her like it that much more. She’d bought it the day after the houseplant incident, along with some new pillows and a few other things, since it seemed like the universe, by way of Gus, was telling her to get some new stuff.
Gus ambled into his pen without being asked and settled down on his bed with a satisfied sigh. A couple of jolts from an electric fence were bound to tire a boy out.
“I know,” she said to Ben. “I should’ve checked the measurements more carefully before I bought it, but once I’d put it up, it was too much trouble to return. Let’s just hope he doesn’t grow into it.”
Gus’s crate took up one full corner of her front living room, and next to it sat a laundry basket full of gigantic chew toys and plush stuffies. “I’m trying to train him to put his toys away at the end of each day, but so far all he does is take more toys out. It’s like having a toddler.”
She walked into the kitchen with Ben right behind her, and she wondered what he thought of her place. The new paint colors were a combination of soft pastels and ivories with not an effing earth tone in sight. She’d found cream-colored slipcovers for her sofa and love seat, and they looked like brand-new pieces. You couldn’t even tell that one of the cushions had a huge tear down the middle. There were now half a dozen soft and fluffy decorative pillows in robin’s-egg blue and pale pinks along with a soft gray cable-knit throw blanket. The place was currently barren of wall art or knickknacks—or houseplants—but it was still a much better reflection of her just by changing the palette. Maybe that’s why she was nervous about what Ben thought. Because now the house was her, and the codependent people pleaser inside her really wanted him to like it. To like her. Not in a romantic way, because, in spite of how attractive he was, that was a nonstarter, but just as a good neighbor. Maybe as a friend.
“Is this all new?” he asked, looking around, and after she nodded, he said, “I like it. It’s very relaxing.”
“Thanks. That’s what I was going for. The color in here is called Tranquility Base.”
Ben nodded. “That explains it. I’m suddenly feeling very tranquil.”
Carli chuckled and picked her phone up from the table. “What’s your cell phone number? I can just share the contact for the painters.”
After they exchanged numbers, he said again, “I really like the colors in here. Do you think . . . would you be willing to come over to my place and look at the colors I’m thinking about and tell me if they look good? Honestly, I thought I’d picked out some okay shades, but Addie says the samples I brought home look like bean dip and baby poop.”
“Is that what you were going for?” She quirked an eyebrow.
He chuckled. “Oddly enough, no. And I wasn’t going for baby poop after eating bean dip, either. I could really use an objective opinion. And besides, don’t you owe me a favor or two?”
“Well, when you put it that way. When would you like me to come look?”
“Um, can you come over right now?” His voice had that same optimistic, expectant tone as it had the night he’d wanted her to look at his new grill. It was cute and almost boyish, although little else about him was. There were a lot of overgrown man-child husbands in the neighborhood, but Ben seemed like the rare grown-up.
“Sure, just give me a couple minutes to change my clothes. I’ve had this dress on since five o’clock this morning, and I’m dying to take it off.”
He smiled as he turned suddenly to look at her fireplace, clearing his throat. “Okay. Want to just come over after you’ve changed?”
“Sure. Give me fifteen minutes.”
She raced upstairs as soon as he left and peeled off her dress, taking only a second to enjoy the Spanx-free moment before pulling on blue shorts and a polka-dotted top. She brushed her teeth and freshened her makeup because, yes, she was just going over there to look at paint colors for him, but she still wanted to look nice. He’d seen her looking like a mess often enough. She was just trying to balance out the ratio.
When she arrived at his place, he opened the door before she could knock. He’d changed, too, switching from basketball shorts and a plain white T-shirt with dirt smudges on it to khaki shorts and a blue shirt that made his eyes seem an even deeper sapphire. They were distractingly blue. But she’d just have to get used to them. She’d just have to get used to the fact that he was handsome, too. There were certainly worse problems to suffer through than having a good-looking next-door neighbor.
“Wow, this place looks better already,” she said as she stepped inside. “There’s actually sunlight in here now.”
The Mortons’ style had been traditional geriatric with thick, paisley-patterned curtains and big, elaborate valances on every window. All the woodwork was dark walnut, and every overhead light fixture had come straight from the bargain bin at the local lighting store. But standing inside what was now Ben’s house, she saw that all the window treatments were gone, and so was the stained Berber carpet that their poor old incontinent dog had befouled in ways too numerous to list.
“And it doesn’t smell,” she said, then blushed with embarrassment, because that was a seriously tacky thing to say.
“What kind of dog did they have?” Ben asked, not seeming bothered by her comment about the smell. “Because judging from the carpet and pad I pulled out, this place housed a kennel of dysenteric hyenas.”
Carli shook her head. “Just one little dog, but he was about a hundred years old, and once Mrs. Morton started using a walker, I’m not sure she ever brought him outside. And his name was Mr. Piddles, so that should give you some idea.”
“Awesome. Well, as you can see, the carpet is gone, and the paint samples are over here.”
He led her farther into the family room just off the kitchen, where a variety of legitimately awful colors had been painted
on the wall in sloppy squares.
“Hmm,” she said. “What kind of mood are you going for?”
“Mood?”
“Yes, like, my colors are all about relaxation and peace of mind, and to me, honestly, these colors you’ve got here say . . . mudslide.”
“Mudslide?”
“Yes, tragic, demolishing mudslide. Lives were lost. Homes destroyed.”
Ben’s initial chuckle was hesitant, then built to full-on laughter. “That’s terrible.”
“I know, and so are these colors.” She pointed to the various splotches on his wall. “Here you’ve got Tragic Mudslide. This one is Puddle on a Cloudy Day. And over here you’ve got Michigan Road Slush in March. This must be the bean-dip color Addie was talking about. Oh, and this one is Dead Skin. I’m sorry, Ben, but these are really bad colors.” Maybe she should’ve been a little kinder, but he had asked for her opinion. His smile suggested he could take it.
“Okay, fair enough, but in my defense, the actual names of these colors are stuff like Morning Latte and Desert Sand. None of them are called Dead Skin. Even I would’ve known that was a bad choice.”
“Do you have any other samples?”
“Nope.”
“Well, some of the shades I ended up with at my house might be a little too feminine over here, but I have about ten other samples that I brought home. Do you want to see them? There are some grays and peaches and lots of blues.”
Ben stared at the wall of horror for a moment. “You really think these are that bad?”
She nodded. “I do, but you’re the one who lives here, so if you like them, that’s all that matters.”
He shook his head. “Maybe I should try a few more colors, if you don’t mind sharing your samples. I’d like to pick something that doesn’t make Addie cringe.”
The front door opened as he spoke, and in walked a younger, taller, skinnier version of Ben, and suddenly Carli understood why Tess was so flustered by Ethan Chase. He was movie-heartthrob cute with that teenage-boy swagger of utter nonchalance and strategically messy hair. He strolled into the kitchen and dropped his backpack on the floor.
The New Normal Page 14