Dammit.
My mouth waters again. I should have taken the cake.
Chapter7
The NFH and Jedi Powers
GOLDIE
“He refused my cake,” I screech over the phone, wiping sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand as I attack a stubborn stain on the wall..
“Maybe he was having a bad day, honey,” Mom counters from states away. We are cleaning in tandem, while chatting, to make the work easier. My scrubbing intensifies with my frustration.
“Wouldn’t a cake help with that? A kind gesture from a stranger?” I switch hands, my muscles straining from the effort. This freaking stain is like the men I've met—unwilling to change.
Which is why I have to be the one to get stronger and better.
“Hmm.” I can almost see Mom’s brows knit and her biting her lip in thought.
“Listen, I get it,” I go on. “Everyone is going through their own shi—stuff. But he was an unmitigated jerk.”
Even if he does have swoon-worthy blue eyes, sexy dark curls, and the broadest shoulders I’ve ever seen in my life, it doesn’t exempt him. I bet some girls swoon over the way his lower lip pouts out from his trimmed beard when he is scowling with that icy stare. Some girls love impossibly tall, muscled mountain men, and the scent of fresh soap, pine trees, and warm masculinity.
Hot tingles start to twirl in my bloodstream at the memory of him first towering over me, making my belly flip and flop like a fish out of water.
I amnotthat girl. I like blondes, who smile, wear designer cologne, and act like gentlemen toward me. Or for a while anyway, before they devolve into slimy jerks.
It’s not hard to imagine girls falling over themselves for my neighbor from hell in grade school. I bet it fed his massive ego from a young age, until he became unimpressed with the entire world. People that jaded should live alone in the woods, where they can’t bother anyone.
Oh, right.
Well, I learned my lesson. No more cakes for the NFH—ie the neighbor from hell.
Or maybe. . .
My brain starts to double down on a plan to win him over.
I’mallowed to hate NFH, but he won’t be able to resist my charm. Despite his gruff exterior, I saw the hungry look on his face when he spotted the cake. Oh, he wanted it all right.
“Do you need me to come out there and tear into him for being mean to my little girl?” Despite the firmness of my mom’s voice, I know it’s an empty threat. She is terrified of flying and doesn’t have time to make the drive to Boston from the Midwest.
My twelve-year-old brother is also out for summer break. Between his baseball camps and the volunteer work my parents do, it would be hard for her to drop everything for me.
It had been my choice to move to a big city far away from my loving parents and the safety of what I knew. But I couldn’t ignore the hot burning at the pit of my stomach that swelled and swelled until I thought I would explode. I came to the conclusion it had to do with fulfilling my potential. I was meant for bigger things than Iowa had to offer.
But this was the tradeoff. My stalwart champions are halfway across the country.
My heart squeezes painfully. I miss them so much. I miss my mom’s warm hugs, my dad’s corny jokes, and playing video games with Noah. Our age gap allows us to get along better than most siblings.
“No, you don’t need to come out here,” I say, pausing my work to lean against a broom, a heavy sigh escaping me.
She doesn’t fight me on it.
“Well, I’m really glad you have such good friends like Cinder and Red out there to support you. Are they helping you with the house?” Her voice took on a hesitant tone. It’s as if she knows how much of an undertaking it is to clean out this pigsty of a house.
“This is my thing, so I’m doing my best not to drag them into it,” I say, determined. Swiping a gloved hand across my forehead, I feel the trail of grime I leave behind. Ugh, I should have cleaned the bathrooms first. I plan on going straight from here to work tonight. All I need is a shower to get clean and reset.
“I’m going to flip this house and make a crushing profit and start flipping houses for profit.”
