by Jewel E. Ann
“No! Not that.” She shoved his shoulder.
He wanted to shove her back—as in up against the wall. Swallowing hard, he blinked to erase the vision from his mind. That wasn’t him. Those thoughts weren’t his. Yet, he let them in his mind, and they felt real as they spurred parts of him to life in unwanted ways.
“I’m talking about moving the outlets, not rewiring my house. I don’t want to feel like I owe you.”
“That’s fair.” He turned back to the fuse panel. “I’m going to flip the switch to all the electricity while I do this. It will be easiest. Are you good for a little bit without it?”
“Yes.” She headed up the stairs. “But let me open this door. Otherwise, it’s going to be pitch black down here when you flip it.”
The door hinges groaned when she opened it. “Okay.”
He flipped it and navigated the creaky stairs.
“Just don’t forget to turn me on before you leave.”
The toe of Gus’s boot snagged on the edge of the stair, and he caught himself with the rail. Had she been reading his mind?
“Sorry.” Parker cupped a hand over her mouth, muffling her laugh. “Gah! That sounded so wrong.”
“Nah … the switch.” He cleared his throat. “I got what you meant.” The perfect chance to give her shit presented itself, and he choked because his dick began to have an involuntary response to her.
“Brady? Let’s get this done before your game.”
Brady, having taken a seat on a chair in the kitchen, jumped to attention.
“So, Mr. Brady, why are you hanging out with Uncle Gus today?” She grabbed a cookie from an old ceramic cookie jar shaped like a chicken and held it up as if to ask Gus permission to offer it to Brady.
Gus nodded.
“Thank you.” Brady took the cookie and shoved half of it in his mouth.
Parker led them up the stairs.
“My sister got called into work, and Brady’s dad is out of town.”
“Grandpa’s sick. A pain in his ass,” Brady said matter-of-factly through his mouthful of cookie.
“Brady!” Gus tugged on the little boy’s ear until he giggled.
“Grandma said so. She said until he got better, he was a pain in her ass too.”
Halfway down the hall, Parker glanced over her shoulder; a smile tugged the corner of her mouth upward. Gus pinched his upper lip between his teeth and rolled his eyes.
“My dad’s hemorrhoids have flared up. My dear sister needs to refrain from using speaker phone when they call. Innocent ears.”
“It’s okay. My mom talks like an uncensored child all the time.” She winked at Brady then pointed to the outlet by the window. “Can you move that about five feet to the right?” Then she pointed to an outlet below her television mounted to the wall opposite her bed. “Can you move that one so it’s hidden behind the TV?”
“Yes and yes.” Gus inspected the outlets.
“You can watch my baseball game today.”
“Oh …” Parker looked between Gus and Brady.
“Um … I’m sure Parker is busy, buddy.”
“Yeah, I’ve got like a bunch of stuff … to do …” She shook her head. “Not busy at all actually.”
Gus looked up from his tool bag. “Well, if Brady invited you and you want to go, then …” He shrugged. That was his excuse if anyone asked. He didn’t invite the neighbor lady, Brady did. Who was he to say she couldn’t go to a little league game open to the public? Parker would be there; other men and women would be there. No big deal.
“Sure. I love baseball.”
Of course she loved baseball. Gus loved baseball. His absent wife did not like baseball. Gus questioned if his wife still liked him.
“Great … just … great.” His enthusiasm faded after the first great, settling into an uneasy pang of guilt in his gut.
Chapter Three
Parker needed a life. The endless tailspin had to end. Step one: shake off her past, gather her bearings, and stop being totally available at the last minute for a little league game.
Plans on a Saturday? Nope.
Just moved out of my trundle bed.
If Amazon Prime offered a life, she would have one-clicked the hell out of it and selected recurring monthly delivery.
However, Parker couldn’t resist Brady’s cuteness, and she found herself looking forward to watching him. Life or no life. In a way she couldn’t comprehend, she looked forward to hanging out with Gus as well. He was married. That wasn’t a problem. Parker was the victim of cheating. She could never be a homewrecker.
Friends. Maybe they could be friends, the kind of friends who teased each other about stupid shit like shearing dogs, karaoke, and old age. It had been quite a while since she’d had a friend.
“You made it.” Gus scooted over. “Here, you can sit in my spot, so you don’t burn your legs on these hot-as-hell metal bleachers.”
Parker tugged at the legs of her shorts, but they were way too short to protect her skin from the metal. “Thanks.” She sat next to him. “So no other family came to watch Brady today?”
“Not today. Usually, everyone is here.”
“Well, good thing I came to cheer him on too.”
Gus grunted a small laugh. Parker couldn’t decipher its meaning, so she focused on the game.
“The back of their shirts say Westman Electric. Someone sprang for some serious sponsorship.”
Gus rubbed his hand over his mouth, trying to hide his grin. “Brady’s up to bat.” He pointed to number eight in his batter’s helmet, tapping the bottom of his cleats with the bat like a pro.
“Let’s go, Brady!” Parker clapped and bounced up and down.
Gus shot her a look with a single peaked brow.
“What? Don’t you know how to cheer on your guy?”
With a soft chuckle, he shook his head.
Brady knocked it deep into left field on the first pitch.
“Attaboy! Woo hoo! Nice hit, Brady!” The bleachers shook beneath Parker jumping up and down.
Brady stopped at third base.
“Jeez, old man, how’d you even climb this high in the bleachers? Look alive!” Parker tugged on the bill of Gus’s Cubs cap.
“August? Who’s your friend?”
They both turned to the couple up behind them a few rows. The tan blonde kept her head down, focused on her phone while the equally tan man beside her dragged his hawkish gaze over Parker. He had a nearly-bald head with patchy peeling skin and crooked teeth peeking out between cracked lips. That weirded Parker out a bit.
“Matt, this is Parker.” Gus let her name hang in the air.
She waited to see if he would define her role in his life—neighbor, fake sister, cousin, friend. Nope. Just Parker, said in a way that did funny things to certain parts of her body in a very un-friend-like way.
“Nice to meet you, Matt.” She shook his hand and turned back to the game. “Go, Brady, go!”
Brady slid into home right as the catcher caught the ball from the first baseman.
“Out!” the ump yelled.
“What?” Parker shot to her feet, hands in the air and then they dropped to her head, and she tugged her hair. “Are you kidding me? Are you blind?”
“Parker,” Gus tried to interrupt.
“Get this guy some glasses! Brady was there like … a week before that ball hit the catcher’s glove. What the—”
“Ma’am?” A middle-aged gentleman with jeans and a red polo shirt crooked his finger at Parker.
“Me?” She pointed to herself.
He nodded.
Parker climbed down the bleachers and hopped off the last one, standing an inch taller than the man with Brady’s team’s logo on his baseball cap.
“Do you have a child on this team?” he asked.
“No. Why?”
The man nodded toward the back of the bleachers. She followed him.
“We have a good conduct policy for these games. Parents are expected to follow the
rules of good sportsmanship same as the kids.”
“Well, thank goodness I’m not a parent, huh?”
He sighed. “While we cannot penalize the child for the actions of a non-family member, we can ask that you leave the ballpark.”
“You’re kicking me out? For what? Being a spectator? I’m pretty sure yelling at referees and umpires in sports dates back many years. It’s part of the game.”
“These are nine and ten-year-old boys. This isn’t an MLB game with a crowd of drunk spectators. We expect the people in the bleachers to be role models for our young players.”
“Is there a problem?” Gus walked around the corner, hands in the pockets of his shorts.
“No, sir.” The spectator police gave Gus a reassuring smile. “Just informing this young lady of our good conduct rules.”
“Do you know who this man is?” Parker jabbed her thumb in Gus’s direction. “He’s Gus Westman as in Westman Electric, the man who sponsored the shirts for the team. And I’m his friend. So if you kick me out it’s like you’re kicking him out, and who kicks their top sponsor out of the game?”
Gus leaned close to Parker’s ear. “See the name of the orthodontist office on the scoreboard? I think they are the top sponsor.”
“Listen, I’m only trying to keep everyone happy and a positive environment for the kids. If you can keep your comments to encouraging ones, then I’ll let you stay.”
“She’ll obey the rules.” Gus eyed Parker, daring her to say another word.
She blinked a few times. “Whatever.”
“Come on.” Gus turned. “Brady’s pitching.”
Mr. Rules nodded at Parker as she walked past him with a scowl on her face. She climbed the bleachers and sat next to Gus, who tugged on the bill of his hat as if the shadow cast by it could hide the amusement curling his lips.
“Let’s go, Brady!” Gus yelled as if to shove his positivity in her face.
“So … I got thrown out of three volleyball games in high school for arguing with the ref.” She watched Brady pitch.
“Ya don’t say?” Gus chuckled.
“I know. Shocking. Jerky?”
Gus turned, eyeing the turkey jerky she pulled out of her pocket. “You have jerky in your pocket again?”
Parker shrugged as she ripped open the top of it with her teeth. “Smell it.” She held it to his nose. “Would you rather have a bite of this or a stick of gum?”
Like a dog grabbing a treat, Gus snatched it with his teeth. Parker giggled and tore it away from him.
“Mmm, pretty good.” He nodded, chewing it slowly.
“See, told ya.” She nudged his knee with hers.
He stiffened. They were friends, that’s all. Nudging came with playful banter. A man and a woman could be friends without it being sexual. Parker knew her limits and they were hard, uncrossable limits branded into her conscience since the day she walked in on her sister and Caleb.
“So you didn’t splurge on advertising on the scoreboard. What’s up with that?” Taking a bite of the jerky, Parker leaned in to nudge him with her shoulder but stopped short, thinking of the people behind them who only knew her as “Parker.”
“Brady wanted the name on his shirt.”
“You’re a pretty cool uncle.”
“The coolest.” An impish smile twisted his lips as his gaze remained on the field.
Parker found his coyness adorable—in a platonic way.
“So … how is it you had no other plans today?”
She sighed a small laugh. “Well, when you’re twenty-six with no job and no boyfriend, it leaves the old social calendar pretty bare. My friends are all getting married, having babies, or adulting with real jobs.”
“What’s your problem?”
“Wow!” She couldn’t hold back. Her elbow landed in his ribs.
He shook with silent laughter.
“We’ve known each other for twenty-four hours and you’re making assumptions that something is wrong with me?”
“Hey, you started it. The gloves came off when you started in on my age.”
Twisting her lips, she nodded slowly. “I see. Oh, Gus Gus Gus … I haven’t smiled this much in a long time.” She winked at him. “I’m glad we’re neighbors. You’re so much more fun than my parents.”
“And younger.” He narrowed an eye at her. “Right?”
“A bit.”
They returned their attention to the game as sparse claps accompanied hoots and “You’ve got this, Lance,” and “Run, Simon!”
“Sooo … tell me about your wife.”
Gus stiffened again the way he did when she nudged him with her knee. “She works a lot. Travels a lot.”
Parker waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t.
“That’s great. I guess. Must mean she’s successful.”
Gus grunted. “Yeah, she’s definitely that.”
“Is she out of town now?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
Parker swatted at a fly probably detecting her jerky stash. “When does she return?”
“Tomorrow. I think.” His reply lacked all enthusiasm.
Parker pointed to the dugout. “Brady’s up to bat next.” And that’s all she said to Gus for the rest of the game.
Chapter Four
Humidity and ninety-degree temperatures usually didn’t suffocate Des Moines, Iowa until late July. That summer, a week of mid-nineties and no rain blindsided June. Relief would eventually come in the form of severe thunderstorms leaving farmers thanking God for the rain and cursing him for the wind and tornado damage.
“You must be Parker?”
Parker turned toward the woman’s voice and jumped up, brushing off the dirt plastered to her sweaty legs like a second skin. Her de-weeding expedition began at six that morning. The sun hovered around the noonish area in the clear sky.
“Hi. Yes, I am.”
The petite woman with blond curls pulled into a bun—makeup flawless—held out her hand. Parker turned her hands palm side up, frowning at her soiled gloves. The woman’s stark-white, sleeveless blouse and pleated dress shorts didn’t stand a chance. Parker’s wide-eyed stare tried to tell her as much.
“I’m Sabrina Westman. You met my husband and dog last week.” Her awaiting hand held firm in the space between them.
“Yes! Pleasure to meet you.” Parker peeled off her old gloves, revealing sweaty hands with dirt embedded under her fingernails. She shook Sabrina’s hand. The last time she talked to Gus was at Brady’s ballgame.
Sabrina may have tried to hide her flinch, but Parker saw it. After six hours in what felt like one hundred percent humidity, how could her hands be anything but disgustingly moist?
Sabrina held her sweat and dirt-smudged hand stiffly from her body like a cast. “I appreciate you taking care of Rags’s bur issue.”
“Oh, no problem. I felt really bad about it. The cockleburs are gone. I removed all of them early this morning. Not that it can erase what happened last week, but …” She shrugged.
“It’s fine. Not your fault. I’ve been telling Gus to fix the fence gate for months. Obviously, he doesn’t listen to me.”
Parker nodded. Sabrina’s husband had seen a complete stranger in her panties and bra. He heard Parker’s fake orgasm charade. And they had had a few uncomfortable moments in her basement and at the baseball game. Asking Sabrina if he mentioned any of that didn’t seem like a good idea, but she wanted to know how much confidence and dignity she could justify in Sabrina’s presence.
“Anyway … he mentioned you were between jobs.”
“Oh … he did?”
“Yes. He said you’ve been doing some temp work. Is that not correct?”
“Um … yeah. I’m waiting to hear back from a chiropractor in Waukee. She’s looking for a full-time receptionist. I think I stand a good chance.” Parker dreamed of using her four-year degree to secure a minimum-wage job with no degree or experience necessary and no chance for promotion.
“Gus said Ra
gs took an instant liking to you.”
Parker laughed, brushing more dirt off her legs. “It was the turkey jerky. I had to find a way to keep him occupied while fixing the cocklebur situation. I’m certain most dogs would take a liking to me if I had dried meat in my pocket.”
“Gus also mentioned you have a lot of energy and that shed of yours is organized to … and I quote, ‘my wife’s perfectionist standards.’” Sabrina smirked.
“I like things tidied up. I’m far from a perfectionist. I just like things … neat.”
Gus talked about her. She wondered if he’d mentioned her legs as well. Doubtful. A few harmless glances meant nothing. Had he nailed her to the barn door with his cock, Caleb and Piper style, that would have been another story. Parker had thought about him … a little too much. The playful banter about his age had been more for her benefit. Finding the married neighbor guy attractive was not allowed, especially for Parker, president of the “I Hate Cheaters Club.” Thinking of him as old, gray, and balding became her survival. And the platonic friendship? That was still in question.
“I’ll get to the point.” Sabrina glanced at her Apple Watch. “I need help. I had hoped Gus could be that help, but he’s too busy.” Her exaggerated eye roll contradicted her words. “I recently took over a large engineering firm, and I travel a lot. Thankfully, we don’t have kids, but recently I’ve found it nearly impossible to keep up with certain things in my life.”
“I get it.” Parker didn’t really get it. Twenty-six-year-olds having just left the nest for the second time couldn’t possibly comprehend the demands of a job with experience necessary, demands beyond answering a phone, and traveling for a reason other than a getaway with friends. “Can I ask how old you are?”
Sabrina’s brow pulled into an unspoken question.
“Sorry, I’m just curious how long it took you to…” Move out of your parents’ house. Get a real job. Find a man who’s not a lying, cheating, bastard. “…achieve such success.”
Sabrina’s shoulders pulled back as confidence curled her lips revealing her bleached teeth. No one naturally had teeth that white. “Thirty-eight.”