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“I hired a new guy yesterday, so I figured I’d test him by having him do my yards.” He shrugs. “So I came here.”
“And you just happened to have all these bushes and flowers and stuff?”
He shakes his head. “No, I bought those after I came out here with you. I made a list when you told me what you wanted.”
“Grady, this…this is like a…a work of art,” I say as I walk back and forth across the front lawn. “Why are you cutting yards when you can do this kind of work?”
He goes stiff, his brow pulling tight. “I like cutting yards,” he says slowly, as he finally meets my eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with mowing grass.”
And here I stand with my size eleven foot in my mouth. “That’s not… I’m sorry, Grady, that’s not what I meant,” I rush to say. “You’re really good at mowing grass, and I know you enjoy it. But this…this is like looking at a painting.” I don’t know how to take back what I said. There are no words to say how sorry I am. “I’m just…in awe, I guess.” I don’t know how to fix the harm I’ve caused, and I’m floundering, stammering out what few words come to mind as he stands silently next to me. I have to make this right, because I know I just wounded him. So I do the only thing I can do.
I fling myself at him.
I shoot across the short distance between us and very nearly tackle him. I hit him so hard that he has to spread his feet to steady himself. He lifts his arms to catch me as I wrap my arms around his waist and bury my face in his chest. He stands there stiffly for a moment, and then his arms wrap around me too, hugging me back. I hold on tightly, locking my hands behind him.
“I love it so much, Grady,” I say against his shirt. “It’s the nicest thing anybody has ever done for me. And I don’t know how to thank you.”
“Well, this is a good start,” he says as he squeezes me. I feel his hand as he palms the back of my head. “So soft,” he murmurs as his hand trails down the length of my hair.
I lift my face so I can look up at him. “What?” He holds the back of my head gently in his palm.
“Your hair,” he says as he stares into my eyes. His are green, and they have tiny flecks of blue in them. “It’s so soft. I’ve wondered a million times what it feels like.” He lets his fingers sift through my hair. “It’s soft,” he whispers.
I bury my face in his chest again. “Well, you’re not soft,” I mutter against his shirt. I poke his ribs. “Jesus, Grady, have you been working out?” He’s like a solid block of marble with soft flesh over it. I poke his ribs again, and he lets out a noise and arches away.
“Stop tickling me,” he says.
“Seriously, Grady. What gym do you use?”
He flicks my nose. “You don’t need a gym when you work hard, Clifford.” He grins at me and I can tell I’m forgiven. He gives me another squeeze. “I didn’t expect you to be so soft,” he says almost reverently.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He loosens the embrace and runs his hands up my sides. “You always seem so…prickly. I kind of expected you to have barbs or thorns or something under there.” He pokes around at my sides. “Do they only come out when you’re pissed?”
And the moment is lost. I step back from him. “I hate you, Grady Parker.”
“Thank God,” he replies with a sigh. “Because I was kind of beginning to think you were falling a little bit in love with me, Clifford.”
I feign affront, because that’s the game we play, but then I ask quietly, “Would that be so bad?”
He shakes his head but doesn’t respond for a long moment. “Did you buy paint?” he finally asks.
“Lots of it.”
“I hope you didn’t let Dicky sell you a whole bunch of shit you don’t need.” I grin at him. He arches his brows. “You did, didn’t you?”
“Probably,” I admit.
“Clifford, you got to be careful with shit like that.”
I roll my eyes. “He said I can return anything I don’t use.” I stick my tongue out at him.
“And he’s an ass, so he’ll charge you a restocking fee that’ll be worth as much as the products. So you’ll end up paying him twice.” He clucks his tongue at me. “Can’t let you go anywhere by yourself, can I?” He tweaks my nose again.
“Whatever.” I look around my new front yard, still amazed by what he did. “But for real, Grady, I don’t know how to thank you for what you’ve done.”
“You just did.” He shrugs. “That hug was the best hug I’ve had in a really long time,” he says quietly, and I see his neck get splotchy like it does when he’s embarrassed. He lifts his shirt to his nose. “Sorry I smelled like outdoors. I’ve been here all day.”
