Because he was working on her repair during the week when he watched Margie, he’d had to bring her with him on the job.
The eight-year-old smiled and said in her most polite voice, “Good morning, Miss Joseph.”
“Good morning. And of course I don’t mind.” Her face broke into a pleasant smile and the dimples appeared, transforming her face and making the muscles in his abdomen contract.
Tools in hand, Clive followed her to the back of the house where the doorway was boarded up. “First, I’m going to remove this and then get the new doors. They’re sitting on my truck.”
“Do you need me to do anything?” Renee asked.
“Just stay out of the way.”
“I can do that.” Renee lowered her head to engage his granddaughter. “How about you, Margie? Can I get you something to drink or a snack?”
Margie shook her head, black pigtails swinging on the sides of her head. “Grandpa gave me cereal, blueberries, and orange juice for breakfast. I’m full!”
Renee laughed. “Well if you change your mind, you let me know, okay?”
“Okay,” his granddaughter said with a vigorous nod.
Renee straightened and for the first time, he paid close attention to her eyes. They were a rich, earthy brown. Captivating. Lovely, like her.
“I’ll be in my office in the back, down that hall to the right. Call if you need anything.”
“I will.”
Clive watched her walk away and liked how the white shorts hugged her curvaceous behind and made her hips look wider. “Very nice,” he murmured.
“What, Grandpa?”
Startled, Clive cleared his throat. “Nothing. Let’s get to work.”
“Okay!” Margie said with excitement.
Clive didn’t often take her with him on jobs. It depended on the job and the length of time it would take to complete. Whenever he did, she was very excited, taking the role of helper very seriously.
He spent the morning on the door, with Margie helping intermittently. When she wasn’t, she played with her dolls. Midway through the morning, Renee came out to check on them and provided glasses of iced tea, which he and Margie gratefully drank. At lunchtime, they took a break and went home to make hotdogs and then returned to Renee’s house. It was early afternoon when he finished painting and then called Renee to take a look at the final product.
She stood back with her hands on her hips. “Wow. You did a great job. I’m impressed.”
“I’m not sure if I should be flattered or insulted. I’ve worked in construction for almost forty years—since I was practically a kid and started going on jobs with my father and older brother.”
“Take my reaction as a compliment. I’m truly impressed. There aren’t a lot of men who are good with their hands.”
Mind immediately going to the gutter, Clive raised an eyebrow and smirked. “I have been told many times how good I am.”
“I-I mean, able to do this kind of work,” Renee said, randomly waving her hand in the direction of the door.
He almost laughed out loud. He’d never see her flustered, and her reaction was adorable. Miss Grumpy might not be as tough as she pretended to be.
“I know what you meant.”
She cleared her throat and briefly turned away before facing him again. “Are you sure I can’t pay you? I almost feel as if I’m taking advantage.”
“You don’t owe me anything. I like keeping busy, and I hadn’t done one of these doors in a while.”
“Well, as long as you don’t feel like you’re being taken advantage of…”
“I offered to help, remember? By the way, I inserted a screw right here at the flush bolt, so no one should be able to slip the door open.”
She stepped in front of him and raised on her tiptoes. Clive got a good whiff of her perfume again, and his breathing became a bit shallow as he let his gaze roam over her body. He was even more tempted to press his face to her skin with her standing directly in front of him, pushing up on her toes as if offering up her body.
“Oh, I see. Is that the little trick you were telling me about?” She turned to face him, and as if suddenly noticing their closeness, her eyes widened and she stepped back.
Neither took their eyes from the other. Her breasts lifted up and down rapidly as her breathing turned as abnormal as his.
“Yes,” Clive said thickly.
She’d felt what he felt. A surge of excitement—a sudden uptick in the temperature as the attraction between them intensified and crackled.
“I…um…” She smoothed a hand down her short hair in the back. “I appreciate you doing that.”
“Well, we have to be safe out here.”
“Absolutely.” Her fingers crawled up the front of her throat.
She had pretty hands with short fingernails painted a champagne-brown color. He wanted those hands exploring his chest, running down his thighs, scraping his back.
“Any word from the police regarding the burglars?” Clive asked, voice sounding unnaturally tight.
“Nothing. The detective assigned to my case was very candid and said the chances of catching them was small, but they’d keep working on it.” She edged farther away. “Other homes nearby have been broken into in a similar fashion—in broad daylight, kicking in the back door and grabbing whatever they could in a rush, so they think it’s the same men.”
“Hope they catch them.”
“Me, too.” Renee rubbed her hands together.
“You know, I noticed there are a few other things that needed to be done around the house. A couple of your siding boards are loose. I could fix those for you and seal them to make sure they don’t leak. One of the planks on your deck doesn’t seem quite sturdy, and I could replace that too. You know, if you like. If there’s anything else you need fixing, I could take care of that, as well.”
“You’ve done enough already. I wouldn’t feel right bothering you with more tasks.”
“It’s no bother. The work will keep me busy, to be honest. Now that I’m retired, I don’t have much to do except the occasional odd job.”
“How much would that cost?” she asked.
“On the house.”
“I should pay you,” she insisted.
He didn’t want her money, but he did have an idea. “How about you pay me in a different way?” Her eyebrows flew higher and he laughed. “No, nothing like that.” Though he wouldn’t be opposed if she offered. “I happen to love chocolate chip cookies.”
Margie gasped, looking up from playing with her dolls. “I love chocolate chip cookies! Grandma used to make the best ones.”
Clive grinned, remembering how the entire house would be filled with the scent of the sweets whenever his wife baked. “She’s right. My late wife loved to bake, and her chocolate chip cookies were the best. They never lasted more than a couple of days—sometimes not even that long.” He laughed.
“How long has she been gone?” Renee asked gently.
“Four years.” Clive brushed away the sympathy in her eyes with a wave of his hand. “We had twenty-six wonderful years together, and I’ve had plenty of time to grieve and accept that she’s gone.”
He’d had a hard time at first—a very hard time. The love and perseverance of good friends and his daughter had helped him out of a two-year depression that had sucked the life out of him. Finally, he’d made the difficult decision to sell the house he and his wife had lived in and buy the one next to Renee, allowing himself to start over and heal in the process. He still missed Margaret, but he’d learned to accept her death and cherish the time they’d spent together.
“So, about those chocolate chip cookies—think you can manage that? There’s a bakery not too far from here that has some really good ones.” He gave her the name of the place.
“Chocolate chip cookies in exchange for home repairs? That’s quite a deal. I can handle that,” Renee said.
“Excellent. Anything else you need done around here?”
�
�One little thing. I bought two fans, and they’ve been sitting in the garage the past couple of weeks. I was going to hire someone to install one in my bedroom and the other in here. If you could take care of that for me…”
“Consider it done. I’ll come back on Saturday morning and install them both and work on the other items. I have to meet a friend for lunch, but let me know if there’s anything else you need. I don’t mind.” His voice dropped lower at the end.
Renee licked her lips and his dick jumped. “I will, and I’ll do my part and have those cookies for you.”
Clive looked down at his granddaughter. “All right, Margie, our work here is done. Let’s head home.”
“Okay, Grandpa.”
She gathered up her dolls in a little carrying case and then Renee escorted them to the front.
“Do you like scrambled eggs?” Renee asked at the door.
“Excuse me?”
“Do the two of you like scrambled eggs?”
Clive studied her for a minute. “Scrambled or over easy.”
“Get here at eight on Saturday and I’ll have breakfast waiting for you both. Bring your appetites. Toast okay?”
“Eggs and toast are okay with me.”
“Me too,” Margie piped up with enthusiasm.
“And orange juice for you, right?” she asked his granddaughter.
Margie nodded.
“Okay. You two have a good evening.”
She shut the door and Clive and Margie started the walk back to the house.
“Grandpa, your voice sounded funny when you were talking to Miss Joseph.”
“Did it?”
“Yes.”
“You notice everything, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do. Mommy said I should be a detective.”
Chuckling, Clive said, “I think your mommy’s right.”
At the front door, he paused before entering, casting a quick glance at Renee’s place.
He was looking forward to Saturday.
5
“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Renee stood at the counter in her best friend Adelaide’s kitchen, folding chocolate chips into cookie dough.
Instead of going to the bakery, she’d had the idea of preparing a homemade batch and asked Adelaide for help.
Adelaide had dark gold skin and hazel eyes. She was taller than Renee and today wore her long brown hair secured into a bun using hairpins. Six months post-divorce from her husband of twenty-five years, she now had a lot more time on her hands and gladly agreed to help. In addition to being the Mama Bear of their friendship trio, she was also the best cook, whipping up the tastiest dishes with seemingly little to no effort. So far she’d done all of the work on the cookies until Renee, feeling guilty, offered to fold in the chips.
“I can’t believe it, either,” Jackie said from her perch on a stool at the counter. She sipped lemonade.
She was the tallest of the trio, a full-figured woman, and wearing her short natural today instead of one of her many wigs. She was always talking about financial security and ways to make more money, focused behavior which had served her well as the owner of lingerie and sleepwear stores for plus-size women.
“I’m not as bad as you,” Renee said pointedly.
No one expected Jackie to help because, though she could cook, she didn’t like to and had a housekeeper who took care of her grocery-shopping and cooking needs.
Renee stopped stirring. “All done, I think.”
Adelaide peeped into the bowl. “Looks good. We’ll use this scoop so the cookies will be uniform sizes, and we’ll place them onto the SILPAT.” She held up a small ice cream scoop.
“You are so fancy,” Renee teased.
“I can’t wait until she starts catering. She’s going to make so much money,” Jackie said.
“I’m not sure I’m doing that yet. It’s just a thought for now,” Adelaide said.
“You should,” Renee said firmly.
“What if I fail?”
“But what if you succeed?”
Jackie nodded her agreement.
“We’ll see.” Adelaide placed four equal-sized balls onto the silicone mat spaced evenly apart. “Like that.”
“Got it.” Renee duplicated what her friend did with the next row.
“Look at you, baking cookies for your man,” Jackie teased.
Renee glared at her. “Don’t start. Honestly, it’s the least I could do. He not only fixed the door, he’s hanging my fans and doing some other little things around the house.”
Jackie perked up and arched an eyebrow. “Wait a minute, you never mentioned that.”
“I didn’t?” Renee asked, knowing good and well she hadn’t.
Resting a hand on one hip, Adelaide asked, “You have him completing your honey-do list? This sounds serious.”
“It’s not serious in the least. You guys know how much I can’t stand that guy. I’ve complained about him constantly because he’s the worst kind of neighbor, but he’s being nice, so I figured it wouldn’t kill me to get the cookies he wanted.”
“Are you trying to be wife number two?” Jackie asked.
“No. Because that would make him husband number four, and I’m absolutely not interested in getting married again.”
“Right, because you’ve sworn off men.” There was no missing the sarcasm in her voice.
Renee stopped working and stared at her friend. “Yes, Jackie, I’ve sworn off men. I know that’s hard to believe, but it’s possible.”
“Forever?” Adelaide asked skeptically.
“I don’t know if it’s forever and ever, but certainly for the foreseeable future. I’m fine the way I am and don’t need a man in my life right now. Remember what happened with the last man I slept with? The poet, who left me that scathing voice mail about my intimacy issues?”
“That’s because you wouldn’t let him spend the night after you had sex,” Adelaide pointed out.
“You treated him like a whore,” Jackie said.
“I did not!”
Jackie raised an eyebrow in rebuttal.
Shaking her head, Renee laughed and continued scooping.
“I was impressed with all the words he used to rhyme with bitch. He’s quite talented,” Adelaide mused.
Renee shot her a dark look and Adelaide shrugged.
“Did you keep the voice mail? If he’s ever famous, that poem could be worth some money,” Jackie said.
“No, Jackie, I didn’t keep the voice mail,” Renee said with a roll of her eyes.
“Too bad. But tell me this, don’t you want someone for companionship?”
“That’s what you ladies are for.”
Fifteen years ago, Renee and Jackie met through mutual friends and became close. Adelaide joined their friendship circle when her daughter was a student in Renee’s English class. Adelaide had been an involved parent and the two of them eventually became close friends. The trio shared everything during their get-togethers, squeezing in time for each other between kids, work, hobbies, and other activities to gossip and find out what was going on in each other’s lives. At their age—she and Adelaide were forty-seven and Jackie turned fifty-six in the fall—she didn’t expect to find anyone else she could connect with as well as she did these women.
Renee looked down at the completed product. “All done.”
“Perfect. Now into the oven.” Adelaide opened the door and Renee slipped in the baking sheet.
“I give it two weeks,” Jackie said with confidence, lifting her glass to her lips again.
“You give what two weeks?” Renee asked.
“Two weeks until Mr. Handyman gets in those panties.”
Renee laughed out loud. “And why would I let him in my panties when there hasn’t been anyone near this area”—she made a circle in front of her pelvis—“in almost a year?”
If she were going to succumb, it wouldn’t be to her neighbor. They were tolerating each other for now, but who knew how long that would last?
<
br /> “Because, my dear, you can pretend all you want that you’re just being nice to the neighborhood handyman, but I’ve known you too long and I can see right through you. You’ve been without for a while, and Clive is an attractive man. He’s in your house, being all manly and helpful.” Jackie shivered. “And he has you baking cookies.”
“He doesn’t have me doing anything,” Renee shot back, annoyed. “It’s a payment for services rendered. Can you believe her?” She turned to Adelaide, who silently watched the exchange with a faint smile on her face. “Not you, too, Adelaide?”
Her friend shrugged. “I have to agree, I think you’re going to give in. I’m not saying you’re going to marry him, but Jackie’s right—you’re baking him cookies, for goodness’ sake.”
“They’re not just for him. His granddaughter likes chocolate chip cookies, too.”
“Mmm-hmm. But you’re not baking them for her, now are you?” Jackie arched a brow.
Warmth heated Renee’s chest and cheeks. She didn’t want to admit it, but her friends were right. There was something about Clive that made this baking exercise seem not only like a nice thing to do, but something she simply wanted to do.
Seated at the breakfast table in the kitchen, Clive rewound the tape.
“I’d prefer for you to do it, to be honest. I’m not knowledgeable about that kind of thing, and if you don’t mind…”
Renee’s voice was pleasant to listen to, and the smile she’d given him after speaking those words had tightened his stomach muscles and he’d had to fight the urge to kiss her. Bonus, she kept a clean house. Cleanliness was a big deal for him, and Renee didn’t seem to have any problem with that.
“Morning, Dad.”
Clive started guiltily and shut off the recorder.
Chelsea yawned as she entered the room, having clearly rolled out of bed only moments before. Her dirty-blonde hair was a rumpled mess with the wavy curls going in every direction, and she still wore her striped pajamas.
“Good morning, hon.”
She poured herself a cup of coffee. “Last night was rough. After closing, we had to stock the shelves with the shipment that came in earlier during the day that the first shift hadn’t completed. I swear, I don’t know why they’re on payroll. They never complete their work and then we have to do it.” She rolled her shoulders and grimaced.
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