"That doesn't leave us with much to talk about." He takes the last bite of his pie.
"I can't believe Cat. He's nice to a total stranger but not me? That doesn't make sense."
"You want a brownie?" Nash asks, getting up.
"A brownie? I'm not even done with my pie."
"I'll bring them out anyway in case you want one." He returns with a large plastic container.
"You made brownies?" I ask. "I thought your oven didn't work."
"I didn't make these. Some woman made them and brought them over."
"What woman?"
"I met her after lunch today, just outside of Lou's. She was on her phone and almost got hit by a car. I yanked her out of the street just in time." He lifts off the top of the container. "She made me these as a thank you." He takes one out and sets it on his plate. It looks like one of Lou's brownies. I pick it up and take a bite.
Nash's brows lift. "I didn't know we were sharing."
"We're not." I set the brownie down. "I just wanted to taste it." I point at it. "That woman didn't make those. Lou did. Those are from the bakery."
"That doesn't surprise me. I figured she'd bought them. She didn't look like someone who bakes."
An image of Katie pops in my head. It had to be her. She ordered a dozen brownies.
"What was her name?" I ask.
"Who?" He stuffs half the brownie in his mouth.
"The girl who gave you the brownies."
He pauses to think. "Carrie? Kelsie? Shit, for some reason I keep forgetting her name."
"Was it Katie?"
He nods. "Yeah. That was it. Katie. Do you know her?"
"Sort of. She comes into Lou's now and then for lunch. Her dad owns the country club."
"She mentioned that. She offered to get me a membership."
"Don't take it," I blurt out, then wonder why I care. If Nash wants to hang out there, or with Katie, I don't care. It's none of my business.
"I wasn't planning to," he says finishing his brownie in another huge bite.
"I didn't mean to tell you what to do. Actually, you should take her up on the offer. It's a really nice country club with a pool and a really nice golf course. A membership is worth thousands of dollars."
He wipes his hands on his napkin. "I've been to country clubs in Chicago. It's not my scene."
"So Katie came over here? To the house?"
"Yeah. I'm surprised she knew which one it was. I told her I was working on Freeson's house but I didn't think anyone knew who he was or where he lived."
"She probably asked her dad about him. Her dad's on city council. He knows everyone in town. Lou's scared to death of him. He thinks if he makes Katie upset in any way that her dad will do something to harm his business, so Lou does whatever she asks. He stayed at work late today in order to make those brownies because he didn't want to tell Katie no, even though she knew we were closed when she ordered them."
He shoves the container aside. "Shit, I'm sorry. I didn't know she'd done that. Did you have to stay late?"
"No. Lou sent me home. And don't feel bad about it. It's not your fault. That's just how Katie is. She's spoiled. She expects people to do whatever she says."
"I had a feeling she was like that. She didn't seem too happy when I turned her down earlier."
"She wanted to go out with you?" I hear the anger in my tone. Katie doesn't date guys like Nash. She only dates rich guys, so if she was showing interest in Nash, it's for some ulterior motive.
"She invited me to a cocktail party her dad was hosting. I immediately turned her down. I knew what she was doing. Showing up with a construction worker? It was just a ploy to piss off her dad. I don't play those games. My brothers do because they know they'll get sex out of the deal but I'm not that desperate. They're not either, so I don't know why they do it."
So he doesn't want to have sex with Katie? Most guys would. She's gorgeous. And she obviously wants him if she showed up here. Wait—was he the guy she was talking about today on the phone?
"I think you're right," I say.
"About what?"
"Katie wanting to piss off her dad. I overheard her talking on her phone at Lou's when I was cleaning tables. She was telling her friend about some guy and said her dad would hate him and then she laughed."
"What else did she say?"
"Something about how she thought the guy would be good in bed. Well, she said that, but I assume 'that' is sex because she said she hoped to find out later tonight."
"Well, she's not going to find out." He looks at me, a slight smile on his face. "But her assumptions are correct. I am good at that."
I roll my eyes. "All guys think that. Doesn't mean it's true."
"Guess there's only one way to prove it." He laughs when he sees the shocked look on my face. "Anyway, tell Lou I'm sorry he had to stay late. I'll have a talk with Katie next time I see her."
"No, don't. She'll run and tell her dad and Lou will get in trouble."
"I probably won't see her again anyways." He smiles. "I told her to go hang out at the new strip mall that's under construction near the highway."
I laugh. "You really said that?"
"Yeah, but I don't think she got what I meant."
He told Katie off. And turned her down. I'm starting to really like this guy.
"So do you have a girlfriend?" I ask. Wait, did that seriously just come out of my mouth? I didn't intend for it to but the words just burst out.
"I did, but I don't anymore," he says casually as he moves his chair back from the table and stretches out his legs. "We broke up six months ago."
"How long did you date her?"
Now I sound like the nosy neighbor. I shouldn't be asking these questions. And yet for some reason I want the answers.
"We were together for two years." He laces his hands behind his head and stares straight ahead. "I'd rather not talk about it."
He seems kind of angry. Must've been a bad break-up and he's not quite over it.
"I should go," I say, getting up from the table. "But thank you for dinner."
He holds my wrist. "Do you really have to go?"
I hesitate, because part of me wants to stay, but the other part of me is desperate to go home, afraid that if I stay, my mind will wander back to that day and I'll start counting or talking to myself or doing something else that will make Nash think I'm crazy.
"I have to, um...go feed Cat."
"His bowl is full," Nash says. "I saw it when I walked in the kitchen. He has plenty of food."
Damn. I really need better excuses. I'll have to come up with a list of them when I get home.
"I also need to do laundry."
"Then go put a load in and come back." He smiles. "I assume you have a washing machine. You're not still washing your clothes by hand, are you?"
"No." I should just tell him I don't want to stay here with him. He couldn't argue with that.
"Come on." He's still holding my wrist and he lightly rubs his thumb over the inside of it. My body instantly reacts. Not in a sexual way, but in a way that makes me feel comforted. Calm. Relaxed.
How does he do that with just a simple touch of my wrist? Am I that starved for human contact that even the slightest touch affects me this way?
"It's a nice night and I'd really like some company," Nash says.
"How long do I have to stay?" I ask, then realize that sounds rude.
But Nash laughs it off. "Am I that bad to be around?"
"No. Sorry. I didn't mean it that way. I guess I could stay a little longer."
"Let's get a better seat." He stands up and pulls my chair out and motions to a bench on the other side of the deck that faces the back yard. It's one of those benches that glides and seats two people. If we sit there, we'll be sitting really close because it's not very big and he's huge.
"I'm fine where I am," I say.
"You gotta get out of that chair. It tried to kill you, remember?" He offers me his hand. "Come on."
&nbs
p; He's smiling and it's such a warm, friendly smile that I find myself taking his hand and letting him lead me over to the bench.
"Want another beer?" he asks.
"No, thanks." I'm not planning to stay long enough to have another beer. I'll stay a few minutes, or maybe a half hour, but no longer than that.
Nash disappears in the house, then returns holding a radio. A basic black radio that looks like it's at least forty years old.
"I found this in the living room," he says. "Got some batteries for it when I was at the hardware store." He sets it on the table and turns it on, fiddling with the dials and antenna until a station comes in. Country music fills the air, some girl singing about losing her man.
"You like country music?" I ask.
"I do." He grabs a bottle of beer from the cooler and pops the cap off, then takes a seat next to me, causing the glider to move back and forth. "It's real music. People singing about real problems. Real relationships."
I look at him. "You're kidding, right?"
"So I take it you're not a fan." He swigs his beer.
"Do you ever listen to the lyrics?" I stop and listen to the song that's playing. "She just said she left her man on the side of the road, the same place her sister left him last year. Why would she date the same loser her sister dated and dumped a year earlier? That's not real life."
"Sure it is. I could totally see a girl doing that."
"Why would she do that? That'd be stupid."
"People do stupid shit all the time. Maybe the guy told her he always wanted her and not her sister. Or maybe she dated him just to piss off her sister."
I swing my legs back and forth, listening as the song plays. "I guess that's true. She might've been trying to get back at her sister. Or maybe she always had a secret crush on the guy and couldn't help but be with him after her sister dumped him, even though she knew he was a loser."
"See?" Nash nudges me. "Real life. Real problems." He stretches his arm out along the back of the bench. I assume he's making a move, but then he slides over, putting more distance between us, and I decide he's just getting comfortable. He stretches his long legs out in front of him, gazing out at the back yard. "How about this one? What do you think happened to Emma Sue?"
A new song is playing about a girl named Emma Sue who always wore blue ribbons in her hair. The guy is singing about how he sees blue ribbons everywhere he goes, but he can't find Emma Sue.
"I think she got high on meth, fell in the river, and drowned," I say plainly.
Nash laughs. "What the hell? That's horrible."
I'm laughing too. "I know. Sorry. I don't know where that came from."
"I thought you were going to say something romantic like maybe she had to leave for some reason but was pining away for him until they could be together again."
"Ugh. No. That's way too sappy. I'm going to stick with the meth and drowning story."
He nods. "Well, it could happen. That's real life." He drinks his beer.
We remain there on the glider, coming up with stories for the people in the songs. Nash has some funny ones and I keep coming up with morbid ones, which he finds to be hilarious.
The sun slowly goes down so I know it's getting late, but I don't feel like going home. Sitting in that house. All alone. So I stay with Nash for a little bit longer. We both get quiet and just listen to the music and watch the setting sun.
For the first time in a year, I went hours without thinking about the accident. No images flashed in my head. No questions flooded my brain. And I just realized I wasn't counting. We've been moving back and forth on this glider all night and I wasn't counting. Normally I'd count each time it went forward and each time it went back. I'd do it even without thinking. It's just one of those things I haven't been able to control since the accident. It just happens.
But tonight, it didn't.
Chapter Eight
Nash
"Have a good night," I say as I stand at Callie's door. I walked her home, even though it's only next door. But it's almost midnight so it's dark and I wanted to make sure she got home safely. I held her hand so she wouldn't trip on anything. She tends to trip a lot and I didn't want her foot catching on something, causing her to fall down. I also just wanted to hold her hand. It's small and soft and....I just wanted to hold it.
"Goodnight," she says, closing the door.
I wait until I hear the lock click, then I walk back to my place, thoughts of Callie still lingering in my mind. She's still so hard to figure out. She's bold and assertive and says what she thinks, except when it comes to talking about herself. If I even mention anything personal about her life, she shuts down. There's a story there, but she's not willing to tell me what it is. Maybe Lou would tell me, although I don't want to ask him. I'd rather have Callie tell me.
Back at my house, I go upstairs to the spare bedroom and yank the covers back on the double bed. A plume of dust scatters everywhere, making me cough. The sheets need to be washed but the washer and dryer wouldn't start when I tried them earlier. It's no use fixing them. They're too old. I'll have to buy new ones, but until then, I need to get to a laundromat or buy some new bedding. Like I have time for that. There's so much to do. Earlier I made a list but had to stop because it got so long it was overwhelming. It almost made me want to forget the whole thing and just sell the place. But I'm not going to do that. Once I start something, I have to finish.
The next morning, I'm out the door at five-thirty. I drive to the Home Depot on the other side of town, joining up with all the other workers getting their supplies at the crack of dawn. While I'm there, I also buy a refrigerator, stove, and a washer and dryer. To keep the cost down, I bought basic models without all the extra features. My grandfather left me a fairly large inheritance but I don't want to spend it all on this house. When I'm done renovating it, this will be a vacation home, and I'll use the rest of the money to buy a place in Chicago so I can stop throwing away money on rent.
On the way home, I remember I have nothing to eat so I stop at a gas station and get coffee and donuts. Back at the house, I pull the truck in the driveway, and when I turn it off I hear it backfire. Shit. I'm sure that woke up Callie.
Assuming she's up, I go over and knock on her door. She opens it, looking annoyed but also cute, wearing a white t-shirt and pink pajama shorts. I don't think she's wearing a bra because her arms are crossed over her chest, hiding her breasts. Or maybe she's just angry.
"Do you always get up this early?" she asks.
"Usually." I smile. "I brought you breakfast." I hand her my coffee and the bag of donuts, and when she reaches out to take them, I can see that she's definitely not wearing a bra. As she's peering into the donut sack, I take a glance at her breasts. They're nice. Very nice. I force my eyes back to her face.
"So you just assumed I'd be up at this hour?" She closes the donut sack and takes a sip of the coffee.
"Actually, that was my breakfast but I figured I should give it to you. It's the least I can do after waking you up. I knew you'd hear my truck."
She holds the coffee up. "You didn't drink out of this, did you?"
"I might've had a sip or two." I lean against the door frame, a grin on my face. "Why? Does that bother you?"
"Yeah, it bothers me." She scrunches up her face. "I barely know you and I just drank out of your cup."
She's even a firecracker first thing in the morning. I love it.
"You've got nothing to worry about. I don't have germs."
"Everyone has germs."
"Well, trust me, they're not going to kill you."
"Here." She holds the cup of coffee out in front of me. "You can have it. I'll just make some."
I cross my arms over my chest and nod at the cup. "I dare you to drink it."
"What are we in fifth grade? You still dare people to do things?"
"Not other people. Just you."
"Why me?"
"Because you need to get over your fear of germs. And your fear of me."
"You?" She yells it. "I'm not afraid of you! Or your germs."
"Then prove it. Drink up."
She looks at the cup for several long seconds. "Fine." She goes to take a drink, but then stops, a sly smile creeping up her cheeks. She puts her eyes on mine and slowly runs her tongue along the opening on the lid. I swallow, my eyes lowering to her mouth, focusing on the movement of her tongue. The way she's doing it? Holy shit, that's hot. And she knows it. She knows exactly what she's doing.
Finally, she tilts her head back and takes a long, slow sip, closing her eyes and swallowing. I can't take my eyes off her. I've never seen someone drink coffee this way, and after seeing this, I'm pretty fucking sure I'll get turned on every time I smell the damn stuff.
She tilts her head forward again and smiles at me. "Happy now?"
"Very." I smile back. "Looks like you enjoyed that."
"It was okay." She glances down at my jeans and laughs a little. "Thanks for breakfast." Then she closes the door on me and locks it.
Damn, she's good. Just when I think I've got the upper hand, she flips it around on me. I look down and see myself straining against my zipper. It doesn't bother me that she noticed. She's hot, her nipples were on display, and she licked that coffee lid like a porn star. Of course she made me hard. It was the reaction she wanted. But why'd she do it? Does she want to be more than neighbors? Do I?
Fuck. I need to get back to work. I don't have time for distractions. And Callie? She's a distraction. She's definitely a distraction.
Three hours later I've cleared everything out of the kitchen and dining room, putting the stuff that might be worth saving in the living room and everything else in the garage, including the old appliances. I called to have a dumpster delivered but they said it'll be a day or two before they can drop it off.
Now that I've cleared out those two rooms, I'm ready to do one of my favorite things. Demolishing. I love the feel of swinging a sledgehammer into a wall. I've decided to tear down the wall between the kitchen and dining room and make one large eat-in kitchen.
I lift the sledgehammer up and slam it into the wall. I'm not a violent person but I admit I was imagining Marissa's boyfriend's face on the wall before smashing it in. He has a long face with a pointy nose. He tried to grow a beard to cover up his lack of a jawline but a month into growing it, he still didn't have a full beard. I can grow a beard in a day. If I let that thing grow for a month, I'd have a beard so thick I'd look like a damn mountain man.
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