by Conley, Anne
“Yes?” she finally said, after waiting for him to speak.
“I’m sorry. I wanted to re-introduce myself. I could tell you were embarrassed by yesterday, and I wanted to come by and try to start fresh. We can pretend nothing happened.”
He watched a blush creep from the top of her tank top straight up her neck and across her face before she spoke. “Okay.”
He held out his hand. “I’m Max. I live next door.” He tried to throw her his most charming smile.
“Um…I’m Claire.” She shook his hand before rubbing it across her forehead, either to remove sweat, or as a gesture of confusion, Max wasn’t sure.
“So, uh…Can I come in?” Max asked.
“I don’t have anyplace to sit, yet. Sorry.” She gestured towards the porch steps, reluctantly. He sat, and patted the step next to him.
After waiting for her to sit, which she managed to do as far away from him as she could, he said, “So, what are you working on?”
“I’m cutting plywood to put over the broken windows.”
“Oh yeah, you said that yesterday. Do you need help?”
“No thank you.” she said quietly.
“Hey, I’m a contractor. I remodel and build homes. If you need anything done, you can call me. I have references.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” She stood. “If that’s all? I have a lot to do today.”
“Um, actually, there was something else.” He figured he might as well ask. She didn’t seem as flirty as she did yesterday. “I had offered to buy this house from the previous owner. I didn’t realize he was going to sell it to you. I just wanted to let you know I’m willing to pay to get this house.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve always wanted it, you know. I’d offered a lot. I don’t know how much you bought it for, but…” He trailed off, realizing her face was turning red, and this time, it didn’t seem to be from embarrassment.
“I didn’t buy it. I inherited it from my uncle, and it’s not for sale.” Her voice was low, but her anger was palpable.
Max suddenly felt awful, and didn’t know what to do to fix her anger. “I-I’m terribly sorry. My condolences. I didn’t realize he had died…” Feeling the hollowness of his words, he stopped speaking, unsure of whether to go on or not.
“He did. It wasn’t unexpected, but it wasn’t pretty, either. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She turned to go back inside.
“Wait!” Claire stopped at the door, and turned to face him. “I’m sorry, this didn’t go the way I planned for it to. Just keep my offer in mind okay?”
Her face seemed to soften, a little. “Okay. I will.” With that, she stepped inside and shut the door.
He turned to walk home, muttering under his breath. “Shit.” Once he got there, he realized that he’d forgotten to tell her she needed drapes for her bedroom window.
Chapter 3:Claire had spent the last three days getting the house ready to work on. She had cleaned, scrubbed, patched windows, and basically done all the crap that she hated. But it was done, and today, she was ready to get down and dirty with the treasure hunt. She spent a couple of hours with a rubber mallet pounding on all the walls, looking for possible hollow panels. Then she searched the attic, which was completely empty. She was climbing the ladder down from the small hole, when she heard a knock at the door.
Claire was surprised to see Summer, the girl from next door, holding a giant basket. “Hey! I brought some housewarming stuff! Are you busy?”
“Um, not right now, but I don’t have any chairs, yet.” She motioned to the porch steps, where she had sat with Max the day before. “Thanks. You didn’t have to, you know.” She told Summer, after taking the basket from her.
Almost as soon as they sat down, the delivery truck from Lowe’s pulled into the driveway. Finally, she was going to have some appliances!
“I need to get them started. Can you hang out for a bit?” she asked Summer.
“Sure.”
“Ms. Dunlap?” A man in his late forties, with stringy black hair way too long to be professional, was standing on the porch. Two younger men, in their twenties stood behind him. One looked like a skinhead, bald with gobs of blue tattoos on his arms: spider webs and skulls and swastikas and other disturbing stuff. The other had really long blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail, and a tattoo on his neck that said, “Frenchie.” Claire noticed Frenchie and Skinhead staring at her.
“Yes, let me show you guys what needs to be taken out, and where to put everything.”
They followed her into the kitchen, and she showed them what needed to be removed, and where to put the washer and dryer. They got busy.
Claire went back onto the porch to find Summer fiddling with the basket.
“Okay, gimme. I love presents.” Summer laughed as she handed over the basket. As Claire opened it, she was astounded at the generosity of the woman from next door. She pulled out a bottle of wine, a packet of goat cheese, some crackers, a couple of really good looking books, and a bottle of bubble bath.
“I’m sorry, I don’t bake, or I would have brought cookies or something.” Summer shrugged in a gesture of helplessness.
Claire was overwhelmed with the thoughtfulness of the gifts. “No. This is perfect. Thank you.”
Frenchie and Skinhead brought the old stove out and put it in front of the truck, then got the new stove out and took it inside the house. The girls silently watched them work, each in their own thoughts. Finally, when they had gone back inside the house, Summer broke the silence.
“So, have you talked to Max much?” she enquired.
“Not really. He just helped me out the other day, and then yesterday he came over to tell me he’s a contractor and wants to buy my house.” She tried not to sound bitter, but honestly. She had thought he was coming back over to flirt a little bit, not offer business propositions. Not that she was interested in his flirting, she reminded herself.
“Yeah, well, he has had his eye on this house forever.”
“You know him well?” Claire suddenly hoped she hadn’t offended Summer. She had been so nice today, and thought that she might be a good friend to have. If she had made her mad by being critical of Max, then…
“We’ve known each other for ages. He’s pretty handy to have in the neighborhood.”
“Yeah, well, I’m pretty handy too, and I only have living expenses, so I don’t think I’ll be able to hire him.”
“He’s pretty good with the barter system, if money’s an issue.” She offered helpfully.
Before Claire could ask for clarification, Frenchie and Skinhead came back out to get the washing machine and took it inside the house. Claire thought she saw Skinhead wink at her, and it gave her the heebie jeebies.
Tearing her gaze away from the creepy guy, “Barter system?” Claire looked at Summer quizzically. Her mind immediately turned towards erotic favors that would be pleasurable to both parties, and she ducked her head to hide the blush suddenly flaming her cheeks. She wasn’t sure if the other woman realized where exactly her mind had gone.
“Trade stuff. I do his laundry.”
Claire laughed at the unexpectedness of the other woman’s answer. “Laundry?”
“Yeah, he comes over and unstops my toilet, I do his wash for a week or two. It depends. Sometimes I cook, sometimes I’ll weed his flowerbeds. Once, I did all his dishes for a month. That was for a roofing job.” Summer said pensively.
“So, he’ll work for chores?” Claire was astounded. “Does he not know how to clean his own stuff?”
“Of course he does, but he’ll let someone else do it, if they don’t have any money. And he says he likes the way my detergent makes his shirts smell, so there you go.”
“That’s just plain weird.”
“Hey, it works.” Both girls laughed together, and Claire realized she was enjoying Summer’s company. It seemed like so long since she had laughed like this with another person.
Frenchie and Skinhead come to get the dryer. Frenchie smiled
at Claire. She wondered what it was about these guys that made her skin crawl. They were really creeping her out.
“So, what’s his story?”
“Story?” Summer looked amused.
“Yeah, why does he want this house so bad?”
“I don’t know, exactly. It’s just he’s always talked about what he would do to it, if he could ever buy it. He wants to run a bed and breakfast out of it.”
“That’s my plan.” Claire said simply.
“Really?”
“Yeah, if I can get enough money to fix it up. I’d like to open a bed and breakfast. I have no idea if I can do it, though. Like I said, no resources.”
“How did you buy the house?” Summer asked.
Claire looked at Summer. Something about the openness of her face encouraged her to be honest. She didn’t seem like the kind of woman to gossip much. Plus, Claire had to admit, she liked her. “I inherited it from my uncle. I suppose if worse comes to worse, I could take out a mortgage against it to fix it up, but I’m trying not to go that route, yet. I’ve got something else I want to try, first.”
“Looking for the treasure?” Summer nudged her, gently.
Frenchie came for the sink, Skinhead came for the vent hood, and the nice older man came to get the microwave.
“So, you’ve heard the rumor too?” Claire asked, curious as to what the woman knew about the gold.
“Yeah, the source of the treasure varies, anywhere from Confederate gold, to stolen pirate bootie, but everybody says it’s still here somewhere.”
“Well, I haven’t found it, yet.” Claire said, laughing.
Summer stood. “I hate to leave, but I’ve got to go open my store. I run a bookstore called A Summer Place, downtown. You should stop by if you get bored.”
Claire stood with her. “Thanks for coming by, Summer. And thanks for the goodies.”
“Welcome to the neighborhood. I’ll see you around.” Summer waved as she walked back next door.
Claire went inside to check the progress of the appliance movers. Back in the kitchen, they were installing the sink. It was looking good. Claire thought briefly about hiring Max to remodel the kitchen, thinking she had stuff to trade. Then she blushed, realizing what she was thinking about trading for a kitchen remodel.
Chapter 4: Max had seen Bob and Charlie at Claire’s house yesterday, and as much as he knew it was none of his business, he still had a hard time not going over there to check on her. He knew those guys, though not well. He had heard plenty of stories about them, though. They were meth-heads, and would do just about anything for money for drugs. He was honestly amazed they were holding a job, although it was probably the perfect job for them. All day long, they made deliveries and cased houses for possible break-ins. He felt the need to warn Claire.
And he wanted to see her again.
He was coping with the window thing, managing to stay downstairs until he knew her light would be out. But he couldn’t stop himself from imagining her, there, in her room, right across the hedge from him.
He parted the azalea hedge separating their houses, and heard her humming to herself. Her voice was soft and sweet sounding, as she hummed what sounded like an old Glen Miller ballad.
Interesting. He thought to himself, as he walked to the back of the house, where he found her pruning the rose bushes back, almost to the ground.
“You are supposed to wait until Valentine’s Day to prune your roses.” He said softly as he walked up behind her.
She didn’t even look at him, just continued with her task. He wouldn’t have known she had noticed him, except she’d quit humming.
“String of Pearls?” he asked her.
“Yeah.” she said simply, still not turning to him.
“You’re cutting too much off. They’ll never grow back.”
Finally, she stopped, and turned to look at him, standing with her dainty little hand on her hip, eyes full of fire that sent a spark to Max’s groin. He had been right, they were hazel.
“Did you come back to make another offer on the house?”
“Um…No. I just stopped by to check on you.”
“Why would I need checking on?”
“Well, you let a bunch of strange men inside your house yesterday, and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
She stomped directly to him, and stuck out her finger, poking at his chest. “I had stuff delivered by professionals. Women do that everyday in this lovely country of ours. What the hell is your problem?”
He grabbed her finger, before it could poke through to his spine. “My problem is, I know those guys, and they’re bad news. That’s all. Just make sure you lock up your house when you leave, now that they know where you live. Jees, woman. What is your problem?” He hadn’t meant to, but he was in her face, and talking louder than necessary. Something about Claire got under his skin..
“My problem is guys like you, who think that women are all helpless little simpletons, who can’t do anything without the help of big strong men.”
He released her hand, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Claire. I never meant to give that impression. I believe you are capable. Of a lot of things. That’s obvious to me.” He had quieted his voice, but was still in her face. He couldn’t bring himself to take a step back, as he should. He knew he was invading her space, but something she was emitting, some sort of radar, pheromones, whatever, was humming to him.
She was angry with him. Her chest was rising and falling with heavy breaths, and her cheeks were flushed. Her eyes flashed dangerously, a vivid green that melted into brown pools around the dilated pupils. Beautiful.
“Why are you here, then? Checking on me? Sounds like you don’t think I’m capable, certainly not capable of handling deliveries.”
Of its own accord, Max’s hand brushed a wisp of hair off her cheek, and tucked it behind her ear. “You’re right. It doesn’t seem like it, does it?”
He heard her breath hitch, and wondered if she was as attracted to him, as he was to her. She answered his question with a stinging slap across his cheek.
“Please don’t touch me again, Max. In fact, please don’t come back over here without an invitation.”
Stung, he mumbled a curse before turning to leave. Before reaching the hedges, he stopped and tossed over his shoulder, “Get some fucking curtains on your bedroom window.”
He didn’t have to turn around to see the blush climb over her cheeks.
Back at his own house, Max decided he would quit with her. He needed to go out and get drunk, maybe bring home a strange woman, if he could find one.
Anything to get Claire off his mind.
Chapter 5:
After Max left, Claire stomped around her house, trying to decide what to do about her arrogant next-door neighbor. She couldn’t believe his nerve, insinuating she couldn’t fix up her own house, trying to buy it from her, correcting her pruning methods, checking up on her after strange men delivered stuff. What the hell? It was as if she was incapable of doing anything because she was a woman.
The fact he wanted this house himself for a bed and breakfast made her blood boil. This was her house. Who did he think he was, trying to buy it? Did he think he could do a better job making a bed and breakfast out of it? Well, she would show him. She had a few tricks up her sleeve. She just had to figure out what they were.
Right now, though, all she could do was stomp around the house. Everywhere she looked was a job that needed to be done, and she was feeling a little overwhelmed. Not that she would admit it to anyone, but she was wondering what she had gotten herself into. This wasn’t really something she could learn to do by herself, just from watching a whole bunch of HGTV.
A knock at the door interrupted her brooding, and she answered it, cautiously, afraid it was Max. But it was Summer, wearing an eager look on her face.
“Hey girl. Have you managed to get out of the house since you’ve moved in?”
“Um…no.”
“You want to go ou
t tonight? For a few drinks?”
Relieved to have something to do, Claire answered, “Yes, please.”
“Cool, I’ll be back in a couple of hours to pick you up. We’re going to the Gin. It’s nothing fancy, but the drinks are cheap.”
“Awesome. I think I need this. Thanks for thinking about me.”
“No problem. See you in a little bit.” And Summer was gone.
Shutting the door, Claire wondered briefly what someone wore to a bar called the Gin, but decided she had enough things to worry about without creating drama about clothes.
Forty-five minutes later, she was stepping out of the shower, when she remembered Max’s comment about drapes for her bedroom window. Realizing she had been walking around practically nude in that room, she peaked out of the bathroom door, and looked toward the window. Sure enough, outside, twenty feet away from her bedroom window, was his bedroom window. The light was on, and she could see him sitting in a chair by his window, drinking a beer. When he saw her peek out, he raised his beer in a gesture of cheers, and gave her a look that clearly said, “I told you so.” Without taking his eyes off her, he shot her a mischievous grin, reached over, and turned off his lamp, plunging himself into darkness.
Well, fuck. Claire thought to herself. She was in the habit of getting her clothes after her shower, and she hadn’t remembered Max’s warning about her lack of drapes when she got in. Now here she was, finished with her shower and no clothes with her, except for the filthy things she had been gardening in.
Realizing he’d probably been watching her this whole time anyway, Claire boldly stepped from behind the door, looked directly at the window, raised her eyebrows, and dropped her towel.
Remembering her body’s reaction to him earlier in the day made her bolder. She remembered the warm, tingly feel of his hand wrapped around her fingers, the warmth of his angry breath on her face, and the way his chocolatey eyes shone with concern.
Her nipples hardened with excitement, as she stood there, deciding what to do. Should she just hurry and find clothes? Or since she was already standing here naked, with an unbelievably attractive man watching her, should she do something? Hell, she’d already sucked on the man’s thumb...