Her boyfriend's one of those metrosexuals I talked about with Callie. I don't know if he has a man bag, but I've seen him carrying around Marissa's purse. There's no way I would do that, and Marissa knew it. I loved the girl, but I wasn't going to walk the streets of Chicago carrying her damn purse.
"Nash?" I hear Callie's voice just as I was about to slam the sledgehammer into the wall again. I check to see where she is, then lower the hammer. She's standing at the entry to the kitchen, wearing her work t-shirt and jeans, which fit tight to her body. Damn, she has a nice body. Small, but with lots of curves to grab onto. I need to stop looking at her that way. She's my neighbor. That's it.
I lean the hammer against the wall. "You should ring the bell next time and wait at the door. This is a work zone and I don't want you getting hurt."
"Oh. Okay." She seems unsure of herself, a complete contrast to how she was earlier. "I didn't think you'd hear the bell with the radio on."
I go over and turn it down. "Do you need help with the garage door? Sorry, I was going to head over there but I didn't notice the time." I walk over to her, but keep some distance because I'm dripping sweat.
"I can get the door. I just stopped by to see if you were coming to lunch today."
"Probably not." I wipe the sweat off my forehead. "I need to stay here and work. I'll just have something delivered."
"Yeah, that makes sense." She chews on her lip and glances back at the living room just behind her. "You got a lot of stuff, or your grandfather did."
"Most of it's junk, I'm sure. I need to sort through it and figure out what to toss."
She nods.
Why is she over here? Shouldn't she be getting to work? I check the clock. It's only nine-thirty, so she'd be early if she left now. So did she come over here to talk to me? I don't really have time to talk. But she has this sad look on her face and I feel bad telling her to leave.
"Do you want a drink?" I ask. "I have some pop in the cooler."
"No, that's okay. I should probably get going. You're busy." She turns to leave.
"Callie."
She turns around. "Yeah?"
"I changed my mind. I'll be there at lunch. I'll stop by during your break, if that works."
Her lips tug up at the sides. "Sure, that's fine. Or if not, then whatever."
"You know I don't like to eat alone."
She smiles. "Yeah. I know."
"Hey, could I ask you to do something for me? I know that's a question but—"
"Only personal questions are banned. You can ask me other questions. What do you need?"
"Is there any way you could drop some stuff off at the laundromat for me? I noticed there's one just down from Lou's."
"You want me to do your laundry?" She sounds both offended and angry. "Do I look like a maid?"
"It's not my clothes. It's the bed linens. They're covered in dust. I about choked on it last night. I just need you to toss them in the washing machines. I'll deal with getting them in the dryers when I get there for lunch. I'll give you fifty bucks to do this for me."
"Fifty bucks just to put stuff in the washers?"
"It's more than one load. I don't know how many it'll be."
"Okay, I'll do it. Do you have it ready?"
"No. Just wait there. I'll be right back." I grab some garbage bags from the box I had in the kitchen, then go upstairs and strip the linens off the bed in the guest room and the master and yank the drapes down. Might as well wash them too. I come down the stairs holding four big bags.
"I'll take them to your car." As we're walking there, I say, "Shit, you won't be able to carry these into the laundromat, will you?"
She stops. "What are you saying? I'm not strong enough?" She lifts the sleeve of her t-shirt and flexes her bicep. "Look. All muscle."
The firecracker has returned. That one question really riled her up. I obviously hit a nerve. When I said that about the bags, I was referring to her injured knee not her lack of arm strength.
Her arm is so tiny I could practically wrap my whole hand around it. But I can see a small muscle peeking through.
I smile and keep walking. "You've got quite an arm on you there. Wouldn't want to run into you in a dark alley."
She follows me. "Yeah, they're not as big as yours, but they're more than most girls have."
"Do you go to the gym?" I set the bags down and open her garage door.
"No. I just do stuff around here." She opens her trunk. "I mow my lawn and it's a push mower so that's a workout."
"Your dad doesn't mow the lawn?" I stuff the bags in the trunk.
"Um...no. I do it. I always have."
She's acting strange, her eyes glancing back at the stack of boxes in the corner.
"Okay, well, thanks again." I take out my wallet and pull out two twenties and hand them to her. "Looks like that's all I got. I'll stop at the ATM and give you the rest at lunch."
"You don't have to pay me." She holds out one of the twenties. "I'll just keep one to use for the machines. I'll bring you back the change."
"Callie, no. Just take it. I feel bad making you do this. I just don't have time to get down there. I have so much to do."
"Then maybe we should skip lunch."
"No." I smile. "I'll be there for lunch. I'll see you soon."
I wait for her to back out of the driveway, then close her garage door.
Meeting her for lunch is going to put me behind schedule. Now I'll have to clean up, drive there, and sit for a half hour. But I feel like I need to do this. When I told Callie I couldn't make it, the look on her face was...I don't know how to describe it. Disappointed? But it was more than that. It was like it nearly killed her to even ask, and when I turned her down, she seemed angry at herself for asking. Maybe that's completely off base but that's what I felt when I looked at her.
My phone rings. It's my dad calling. I haven't talked to him since I told him I was moving down here for the summer. That was two weeks ago. I've tried calling him but he's been giving me the silent treatment.
"Hey, Dad." I go back in the house. "What's going on?"
"We got the Victorian." He sounds happy.
"That's great. Congratulations."
"You deserve most of the credit. The committee reviewed our last few projects, which you were in charge of, and said that's what set us apart from the competition. You're always on time and on budget and you know how to lead a team. You get the job done and you do it well. That's what got us this job. It wasn't about the money. We weren't the cheapest bid."
As much as my dad rides my ass to constantly do better and work harder, I appreciate the fact that he always gives credit where credit is due. He's not a glory hound. And he's not afraid to praise his sons when we do a good job. If we screw up, he tells us that too, but he doesn't hold it against us. The place where we butt heads is when I make choices he doesn't approve of, like working on this house.
"I'd say winning the Victorian was a team effort, but thanks. So when's the work begin?"
"Next week. Should have the contract finalized tomorrow."
"Jake said you put him in charge. That's good. It'll be good experience for him."
"Yeah. About that. I want you to do it, Nash. This is a high profile job and I need my best guy on it."
"Jake can do this. You just need to trust him. And if you're that worried, then stop by and check on him."
"I don't have time to babysit him. I can't be on site every day. I need someone there that I won't have to worry about."
"Dad, I'm not moving back. We've talked about this."
"You can fix that house anytime. The Victorian needs to be done right now."
"Yes, but this is what I want to do. I've waited almost a year to do this. Now's the perfect time. I needed to get away from there. And besides, they already leased out my apartment."
"You can get another apartment, or you can live at home."
"I'm 25. I've not living at home." I sigh. "Dad, I know you're still angry about th
is but it's my decision to make, not yours. And Jake needs this. He needs to see that you trust him enough to do this. If you just give him a chance, he'll step up to the plate and make you proud."
"All you boys make me proud. This isn't about that. Jake just isn't ready. He hasn't worked on enough projects and the ones he has worked on were all supervised by you."
"Which is why he can do this. I've taught him everything I know. And when it comes to dealing with subs, he's better than me. You know that."
"Handling the subs is only part of the job."
"But it's an important part. And you're gonna need a lot of subs on this job. Come on, Dad. Just give Jake a chance."
"Dammit, Nash! Stop being so damn stubborn and get your ass back here!"
I knew this was coming. He was being far too calm up until now.
"Dad, what is this really about?"
"It's about you helping your father. And your brothers. And our business."
"It's more than that." I pause. "This is about Mom."
The phone is silent except for the sound of him breathing.
"I know you're still pissed at her for leaving," I say, "but that was twenty-five years ago. And I don't know why you're punishing me for what she did."
He lets out a heavy sigh. "I'm not punishing you. I admit I still hold some resentment toward your mother for what she did, but that has nothing to do with you. I would never punish you for her actions."
"Then why do you keep trying to talk me out of doing this?"
"I think the better question is...why are you doing it? You're spending your inheritance fixing up a place that should be torn down. And if you sold that land, you'd make a fortune."
It's all true, and yet I still have to do it. I need to.
"Nash." His voice softens. "Doing this won't bring your mother back."
"That's not why I'm doing it," I mutter.
"Donna wouldn't even speak to her father. They'd been estranged for years."
"They could've reconciled after she left us."
"So you admit that's why you're doing this."
"No! If I wanted to find Mom, there are a hell of a lot easier ways than renovating this damn house."
"And yet you've tried those other ways and haven't found her."
"What are you talking about?"
"Jake said he saw the searches on your laptop."
"That little shit. What the fuck's he doing spying on me like that?"
"He didn't mean to. He just noticed it when he was using your computer. He said he needed a phone number for a contractor and you told him to use your laptop."
That was last year. I totally forgot about that. I left all these windows open on my laptop and he must've clicked on them and seen the searches for her name.
"He should've kept that to himself. It's none of his damn business."
"Jake was worried about you."
"I did an internet search. What the fuck's there to be worried about?"
"He's worried about what will happen if you find her. I'm worried about that too."
"Well, stop worrying because I'm not trying to find her. And she's not the reason I'm fixing the house."
"Then what's the reason?"
"I like the location. I want a place I can go to get away from the city. A place that's quiet and peaceful."
"If you want peace and quiet you can go to our cabin in Wisconsin."
"That's yours, not mine. I want my own place." I take a breath. "I'm done arguing with you about this. I'm a grown man and this is my decision to make. When the house is done, I'll move back to Chicago, but until then, I need you to leave this alone. I don't want to fight with you, Dad."
"I don't want to fight with you either." He pauses. "Fine. Do what you need to do. But Nash, if you come across photos of her, or other reminders of her in that house, let them stay in the past. Don't go trying to find her. She left us for a reason. She didn't want that life. She didn't want to be tied down."
His words tear at my chest. No mother would just leave her infant and run off like that. She wouldn't do that. He has no idea why she left. She didn't leave a note, so how does he know?
"Dad, I need to go."
"Call me next week. Let me know how things are going."
"I will."
"Love you, son."
"Love you too."
I didn't use to say that to him, but I have ever since my stepmom died. Her death was sudden, and completely unexpected, and made me realize that my dad could be gone just as quickly. So now, even though he knows I love him, I still tell him, even when he angers the shit out of me, like he did just now.
He doesn't want me doing this. Restoring this house. But his assumptions are wrong. I'm not trying to find my mom. I'm just trying to connect with that side of myself. My mom's side. And this run-down, piece of shit house? It's the closest connection I'll ever have to her.
Chapter Nine
Callie
Nash just walked in and now I feel like an idiot. I practically forced him to have lunch with me. I have absolutely no idea why. I spent all those hours with him last night, so why did I feel the need to see him again at lunch?
He told me he was busy, and I know he's busy, so what was I doing going over to his house and bothering him?
This needs to end. We'll have lunch, then when I get home I'll ignore him and return to my regular schedule. My regular life. The one I had before Nash rolled into town and messed everything up.
"Callie, your date's here," Lou says casually as he walks by me in the kitchen.
"He's not my date. He's my neighbor."
"Who came here to have lunch with you."
"Yeah? So? It's just lunch. He doesn't have a fridge so he has to eat out."
"At the place where you work. At the exact same time as your lunch break."
"I think you've been watching too many soap operas, Lou. Or reading too many romance books."
"I don't need a book to tell me you two have chemistry."
"Chemistry? The guy drives me crazy! He's obstinate. Overly persistent. Never listens. And he's always blasting his country music."
"Aside from the country music, sounds like you two have a lot in common."
"What? I'm not—"
"Hurry up. He's waiting. And fix your hair. You've got frosting in it." Lou heads out to the dining room. Why does he think I'm dating Nash? We have one lunch together and now he thinks I'm dating him?
I go in the bathroom to check my hair. There's no frosting in it, but it is a mess. I yank my baseball cap off and redo my ponytail, then put the cap back on. On my way to the dining room, I take off my apron, hanging it next to the door.
"There she is," Lou announces as I walk around him to the lunch counter. Nash is there, wearing jeans and a gray t-shirt, his blue eyes gleaming, a wide grin on his face showcasing those perfect teeth.
Okay, so he's hot. That explains why I wanted to have lunch with him. I just wanted something nice to look at while I ate. At least that makes sense, but I'm still annoyed at myself for acting this way over some guy.
"How's your day going?" he asks, turning to me.
"Good. Did you order yet?"
"Yeah. Got the grilled ham and cheese. Got you one too."
"You ordered for me? Maybe that's not what I wanted."
"Well, you could've ordered for yourself but you took too damn long. What were you doing back there?"
"None of your business." I twirl my straw around the Coke he apparently ordered me. "I did your laundry."
"Yeah, I just picked it up. You even put everything in the dryer. Thanks for doing that."
I shrug. "You paid me. I was just doing my job."
He smiles. "What's going on with you? You in a bad mood?"
"No. Why would you say that?"
"You actually seemed pleasant when you stopped by my house earlier. Now you're back to being ornery."
"I'm not ornery. You're just overly sensitive."
He chuckles. "Yeah, that's me
. Mr. Sensitive." He leans over like he did yesterday, his mouth by my ear. "I don't mind if you're ornery. I take it as a challenge to make you be nice to me. So bring it on. It'll just make me show up at your door even more."
"I'll just send you away," I say, trying to hide the rapid breathing his close proximity is causing.
"You won't if I make you want me around."
"Why would I want you around?"
"There are many...many reasons." His tone is full of sexual innuendo and I'm wondering why he's doing this. He could've made a move on me last night but he didn't. Not even an attempt to kiss me when we said goodbye at my door. So is he just one of those guys who likes to flirt with girls? Even if it doesn't go anywhere?
"Name one reason I would want you around."
He leans back, flashing his smile at me. "I'm nice to look at."
I roll my eyes. "Oh my God. Seriously?"
He laughs. "You should see your face. That was classic."
"What else you got?"
"I can make you laugh."
"No you can't. I hardly ever laugh." I used to, but that ended the day they died.
"Last night you laughed for hours. All because of me and my made-up stories about the people in the country music lyrics." He's right. I did laugh a lot last night. I didn't realize that until now. "And as I've said before, I can fix shit. That should be reason enough to want me around. But if you need more reasons, I could go on all day."
I laugh. "You're so conceited."
"See? Made you laugh."
A few minutes later, Lou brings out our sandwiches and says to Nash, "You gonna want dessert?"
"I'll take a slice of that cherry pie." He points to it in the glass display. "What do I owe you for it?" He gets out his wallet.
"Forget it. It's on me."
"Since when do you give away free desserts?" I ask Lou.
"He deserves something for putting up with you." He chuckles and walks away.
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