My memories are jam-packed with all the fun my grandparents and I use to have those summers.
Swallowing my bite, I ask. “If I promise not to chew with my mouth open can I go?”
He manages to look pleased and put out at the same time. “If you must.”
Score!
“Any chance I can borrow your car later?”
He finishes his cup. “I don’t need it for the rest of the day. Just put gas in it before you come home.”
A memory hits me. “Do you still write down your mileage every time you fill up?”
He nods. “A notebook and a pen are in the glove box. Make sure you don’t forget.”
One thing my grandpa isn’t, is wasteful. “I’ll remember.”
Pushing away from the table, he stands. With one hand bracing himself on the back of his chair, he shuffles to the sink.
Once there, he keeps his eyes downcast as he rinses his mug. “You need money?”
Best grandpa ever. “No, I don’t need money.” He turns back to me and doesn’t look away so I add, “I swear. I’m good.”
That seems to appease him. “Where are you going?”
“I plan to scope out some online car ads. Hopefully I’ll find something I want to see in person.”
He frowns, no trace of a smile to it. “Will the boyfriend go with you?”
Someday he will call Derek by his name. Until then, he is your boyfriend or the boyfriend. “I think so.”
“Does he know cars?”
I may have to rescind that best grandpa ever thought. “He knows enough.”
Grandpa humpfs and looks away.
I tap the tabletop to pull his attention back to me. “Even if he doesn’t, you taught your granddaughter everything you know about cars so I’m sure she’ll be fine.”
The smile comes back. “It’s good to know how things work.”
I stand to refill my mug. “So I’ve been told.” In case he’d like another as well, I ask, “Want some more?”
Derek pops his head around the corner. “I’ll take a cup.”
Grandpa looks him up and down before saying, “It appears sleeping beauty has decided to join us.”
Derek’s expression shifts from sleepy to annoyed.
Time to defuse this.
Crossing the kitchen, I press a kiss to his cheek before looking back at my grandpa. “I don’t blame him. Your guest mattress is awesome. If it weren’t for your law—, I mean Gideon, I’d probably still be asleep too.”
3
Gideon
The annoying ding of my alarm wakes me. I’ve never had a problem waking up in the morning when I had work to do. Or, I never used to have a problem. That was before a certain red-haired woman invaded my thoughts, both conscious and un.
This dream had been a re-enactment of our meeting with one glaring difference; there had been no boyfriend. No, in my dream she had coyly beckoned me over and kissed me.
She may have started the kiss, but I quickly took it over. Just picturing her standing in the doorway, sleep-mussed hair and those ridiculous peach ring pajamas turned me on. It was hard to think of anything other than peeling that yellow T-shirt off her so I could feel her skin.
Too bad she has a boyfriend, and funny how when Mr. Olson mentioned his granddaughter Lucy was moving to Woodlake, he left out the part that she wasn’t doing it alone. Real shame, I saw the attraction in her eyes.
The boyfriend moving cross country with her has to mean they’re serious. If she were dating, I’d have no qualms about making a move on her. A boyfriend though? Not going there.
Dragging my hand over my face, I get out of bed. If I’m late, I’ll only waste the time of my guys. That, and nothing else has me moving with some urgency.
It’s a lesson I learned working in my family’s hardware store. My dad held every employee to the same standards he held himself.
He worked as hard, if not harder, than anyone there, and he passed that work ethic on to us.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m out the door. There are a couple of cars parked outside the storage yard when I pull up. Glancing at my dash, I worry I’m late until I see I’m still ten minutes early.
After locking eyes with Hank, I lift my hands before tapping my watch in confusion. He steps out of his car as I park.
“What’re you doing here so early?”
He shrugs. “My niece needed a ride to school. She’s taking her behind the wheel classes before it starts.”
That makes sense. “Here I figured you were trying to show me up.”
As we talk, more cars park around us.
Our schedule is still the same from when I emailed it at the start of the week. “You guys good?”
Everyone nods and breaks off into work groups, Zach coming to stand with me. “Want me to drive?”
The guys all love driving the new trucks. I can’t blame them, they’re sweet rides.
“Sure.”
We hit a quick mart for gas and breakfast. How Zach can eat two hot dogs and a bag of chips almost every day is a mystery to me. I settle for a Danish and a microwave breakfast burrito.
He’s downed one dog before I’m done heating my food up. “Those things will kill you.”
He pulls out the second one. “Life will kill me.”
“It’s too early to be philosophical about gas station hot dogs.”
He grins, showing me most of his teeth in response.
We spend the morning blowing leaves from the walkways of a large commercial business park I have a contract with. The bulk of the blower’s weight is strapped to my back but that doesn’t stop my arm from going numb after a couple hours of holding the nozzle.
I’m grateful for the ache, for the reminder that without the guys who work for me, I couldn’t run my business alone. I’ve been getting soft focusing all of my attention on the design and clerical aspects of my company. Bookkeeping may guarantee the bills get paid but it doesn’t light me up the way designing and maintaining a space I created does.
I kill my blower when I see Zach walk toward me.
Clipping the nozzle to a hook I then shift my noise canceling headphones to around my neck. “You done?”
When he nods his head, I ask, “Leaves up and everything?”
His expression turns cocky since he beat me. “Yep, came over to help with yours.”
When I start grumbling no one likes a bragger, he bursts out laughing. I ignore him and put my headphones back on. It takes another hour before we can call it quits there.
Taking back the driver’s seat, my gaze moves to how heavy with leaves all of the trees still are. Fall in New Hampshire can be a pain in the ass. Even I can concede the foliage is beautiful when the leaves change colors. It’s cleaning them all up that sucks whether it’s job security or not.
My phone buzzes before I shift into drive. When I see the message, I grin.
Tapping out my reply, I say, “The other guys are going to be jealous of you.”
“Why’s that?”
I slide my phone back into my pocket. “You get to tag along and have lunch with Finley.”
Married, with a girlfriend, or single, all of my guys have crushes on Finley. My brother Noah is lucky as hell to have found a woman as awesome as her.
She’s got it all; she’s gorgeous, a sweetheart, can cook better than my mom and that’s no small feat, and isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty working on their house.
Her ex is the biggest idiot on the planet for leaving her. But, if he hadn’t left her, she never would have moved to Woodlake.
Zach rubs his hands together. “I wonder what she’s cooking.”
“Won’t matter. Anything she’ll make will be good.”
He hums his agreement. Her invitation will help me kill two birds with one stone. We’ll get lunch, and I can knock out Mr. Olson’s yard.
I haven’t had a chance to swing back by since I met his granddaughter. My pulse quickens and I frown. She’s not the first beautiful woman I’ve
exchanged words with. She’s already taken, that alone should be enough. Why I can’t get her out of my head is unnerving.
I look for the used Ford Finley offhandedly mentioned Lucy and her boyfriend bought but there isn’t anything parked either behind Mr. Olson’s familiar tan sedan in the drive or on the street.
Does that mean she isn’t here?
“There a reason we’re stopped?”
My neck twists as I look at Zach. Shit.
Was I really just stopped in the middle of the street?
I take my foot off the brake. “No reason. I just need to remember to finish that yard before we leave.”
If he buys it, I can’t tell. Either way, he’s silent as I park in front of Noah and Finley’s house.
Her office is in one of the front rooms. She does some remote customer service something or other. I’m not sure if she saw my truck through the window or heard it.
Whichever one it was, it gave her enough notice of our arrival to open the door and wave. Finley is one of those women who can look beautiful in anything, and I’ve seen her caked in drywall dust and decked out for a fancy dinner.
“Hiya,” she greets as we climb out of the truck.
I catch a whiff of myself and glance down. No one ever claimed landscaping was tidy work. My boots are heavy with mud and I’m sporting a good amount of dirt.
“You sure you want us to come inside, we’ll track shit in.”
Her mouth twists to one side as she contemplates my words.
Pointing to her driveway, she says, “Walk around back. We’ll eat on the patio.”
I was hoping she’d say that. Their patio might be the prettiest one in Woodlake and I’m not just saying that because I designed it.
We pass the side entrance to the kitchen on our trek to the back patio.
One step past it, I rock to a halt throwing my hand out to stop Zach as well. “Do you smell that?”
His brows pinch before he inhales deeply, then he looks at me with wide eyes. “I smell cookies fresh out of the oven.”
Thoughts of performing an elaborate touchdown dance cross my mind. “Life is good.”
He chuckles. “The other guys are going to be pissed they missed out.”
“Should we bring them some?”
My question is a joke and we both throw our heads back and laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Finley steps into view.
“We’re not going to share any cookies,” I reply.
She tips her head to the side. “Those cookies aren’t for you.”
Zach’s face goes blank and for a second he looks like he might cry. This is a man who got stung twenty times after stepping on a yellow jacket nest and proof of how good Finley’s cookies are.
My lower lip comes out. “They’re not for us?”
She makes an exasperated face. “No, they’re to welcome our new neighbors.”
I look over my shoulder and hook my thumb in the direction of Mr. Olson’s place. “I thought they were only visiting.”
She waves for us to follow her.
“It’s more like they’re long-term guests while they look for a place of their own.”
Mr. Olson said she’s moving here, and Finley had said they’re so I’m assuming the boyfriend is moving as well.
“Have you met Lucy and Derek?” Finley asks.
I have a sudden craving for peach rings. “Briefly. Neither of them struck me as people who like cookies. I think you should let me and Zach take them off your hands to avoid offending them.”
There’s a tray of plates, silverware, glasses, and napkins on their patio table.
Ignoring my cookie remarks, she says, “I like them.” Finley pauses, and then amends, “I’ve only really spoken to her though. It’s so sweet of her to move out here to be closer to Mr. Olson.”
She points to the tray. “Will you set the table while I grab the food? There’re a couple steamed towels for you both to clean your hands with.”
She’s gone before I reply.
Zach is staring after her. “When did she have time to steam towels?”
I shrug. “Don’t know, and I don’t care, I’m only happy she did.”
He nods his agreement and I try not to sigh with pleasure as the soft warmth envelops my worn hands. When I see she’s given each of us two, I almost weep with joy and use my extra towel to wipe my face and neck.
Feeling more refreshed than I would have thought possible, I quickly set the table.
“I’m ready for a nap,” Zach says, dropping into his chair.
“That means you’ll be comatose after you’re done eating whatever she’s made.”
Movement to our right catches my attention and I hurry over to open the back door for Finley. She’s got another tray, this one loaded with food and a drink pitcher. My mouth waters at the spread.
Zach inhales deeply. “Goodness that smells good.”
She beams. “It’s a new to me recipe so I hope you’re okay being my guinea pigs.”
I see three French dip sandwiches, some homemade red potato salad, and little bowls of fresh blackberries with cream. “I’m thrilled to be a guinea pig.”
I take the tray from her and set it on an outdoor serving table. Once it’s plated, and the sweet tea in the pitcher is poured, I sit. Before Finley, I never drank sweet tea, never liking the sugary flavor. She doesn’t make it that way and has converted me.
I take a sip, and then freeze.
She doesn’t miss my reaction. “Do you not like the peach flavor? I added some fresh ones in for fun.”
My mind wanders across the street while I school my expression and take another drink. “I like it. I like it a lot.”
While we eat, I avoid thinking about a certain red-haired woman and instead take in Finley and Noah’s backyard design.
It’s a habit to catalog the ways a space I created evolves into something different with time. Now, above the table are strands of fairy lights that run into the trees beyond the patio.
“I like the lights.”
Finley’s brows wrinkle and I point up in explanation.
Her face lights up with both understanding and excitement. “Thanks. They were a pain to put up but so worth it. Just wait until you see them at night.”
It likely won’t be long before that happens since Finley and Noah entertain frequently. “When’s the next party?”
She taps her chin. “We could throw something together to celebrate Abby and Spencer’s engagement.”
I laugh and her eyes widen in surprise. “You’ll have to find another reason for it. I know my little sister and I bet she’s planning some sort of housewarming slash she’s getting hitched party as we speak.”
“You’re probably right. In that case, who needs a reason to have friends over? I’ll see what everyone’s calendars look like and pick a date.”
After lunch, Zach and I help clear the table, loading plates and glasses back onto one of the trays.
“Thanks for having us over. That was the best sandwich I’ve had this year.”
She smiles sweetly at us. “You are so welcome and thanks for coming to keep me company.”
That reminds me, as much as she loves cooking, Noah is her normal lunch date. “Where’s No?”
“Way out past your folks’ place.”
Ah, clear on the other side of Woodlake. “Big job?”
She shakes her head and smiles brightly. “Just a roof.”
My brother is a contractor, his company is busy year-round with work. While a new roof might sound like a big job to whoever is paying for it, it takes no time to install compared to a kitchen or basement remodel.
“I was going to do a once over on your yard before we go.”
The reason I mention it is on the off chance she has some important call scheduled and the noise from our equipment would disrupt it.
“Now’s good. Besides, I’m going to run the cookies over to Lucy.”
My face falls. I had forgotten about the coo
kies.
She covers her laugh with the back of her hand. “All right, I’ll give you each a couple.”
“Thank you. You’re the best.” I lift my hand to Zach and he high fives it.
Finley shakes her head with an indulgent smile. “Want them now or after you do the yard?”
I meet Zach’s gaze. “How about after?”
He presses his hand to his middle. “That’ll give me time to make room for them.”
“Sounds good. I’ll go run a plate across the street and be right back,” Finley replies before walking away.
Zach waits until she’s out of earshot to say, “Her food is so good she could have one of those TV cooking shows.”
He is not lying. I’ve been a happy guinea pig plenty of times for her new recipes and they’ve always turned out delicious.
We split up, him going to start the back while I knock out the front. Their front yard is easily half the size of Mr. Olson’s, a good chunk of it taken up by an elaborate walkway.
The landscaping is minimal so it doesn’t distract from the elegant symmetry of the house’s federal architecture.
Stunning as their house is, the only feature of their front yard I’m currently interested in is its view of Mr. Olson’s front porch. In fact, there’s not one spot of their front yard that doesn’t have a view of it.
For the first time in my adult life, I make a point to appear like my attention is solely focused on the grass I’m mowing, and not the woman across the street. The last time I did something like this was when I was in middle school and pretended to read while I secretly watched a girl I liked on the bus.
Since then, my confidence has grown. These days, I take a more direct route when flirting with someone.
She’s off limits.
What concerns me, is this isn’t the first time I’ve had to remind myself of that fact.
The reminder is of little help. At each row turn, my eyes stray to where Finley and Lucy stand.
Lucy now holds the plate Finley carried over. It’s pressed to her stomach with both hands hugging it to her as they talk.
I want to hear her again. There was an appealing warmth to the tone of her voice. Now that I’ve heard her sleepy and annoyed, I want to know what she sounds like when she’s excited, laughing, or God help me, turned on.
My Perfect Fix (The Fix Book 4) Page 3