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He saunters toward me with a happy tilt to his lips as he wipes his hands on a damp rag. I’m betting moments ago his fingers had a generous coating of motor oil.
“My mom finally giving you back to me?” I smile up at him as he looms over me. I like his height. In middle school, I had a growth spurt, and I was the tallest girl in class. None of the boys wanted to be near the giant. None except for Charlie. Best friends don’t care when you’re suddenly eye-level with them.
“She just needed a quick hand. You know how her grip is getting.” Dash leans down to press a kiss on my forehead before settling beside me on the porch swing.
I try not to frown at his comment. The idea that my mom might not be invincible isn’t something I want to contemplate. So what if I left home for eight years? Mom and Dad should’ve stayed exactly the same.
Who gave them permission to age?
“This for work or pleasure?” Dash’s question distracts me from my anxiety, and I push the worries to the side. He’s holding up the book I was just reading, flipping through the pages slow enough to reveal the occasional green note.
I shrug. “Both, I guess. I’m reading the book because it’s interesting, but it doesn’t hurt to stay in the habit of writing down the comments I have.” Practice is important, especially now. “I’ve been meaning to tell you. I have a job interview with a publisher in town.”
“Really? Paige, that’s awesome!” Dash’s face takes on a level of excitement I wish I could match.
Unfortunately, the local job isn’t anything like the position I had in NYC. The publisher works on textbooks. Much drier material than I’m used to.
And there’s the fact that I got a mysterious email from my former senior editor, asking for a moment of my time to talk on the phone.
“So, is this one of the publisher’s books?”
“Nope. Just in the mood for a crime thriller.” I pluck the book from his grasp and open it to a random page. “And I try not to get too technical when I’m reading for fun. That would take me too far out of the story. These are just some random thoughts.” I tilt the page, so he can see.
“This guy is definitely going to die…Wow, Paige. Way to go dark.” Dash grins at me.
I chuckle. “Well all the clues are there. I mean he’s practically begging—”
The sound of the patio doors swinging open cut me off. I expect my Mom to walk out, or maybe my Dad seeing as how it’s a Sunday.
Instead, my heart stutters to a stop, then revs into a rapid pace when I realize who the newcomer is.
“Charlie!”
DASH
I watch as my girlfriend launches out of her seat to jump into the arms of another man. When he returns the embrace, a huge grin on his face, I have to clench my hands into fists to keep from dragging her away from him.
Through the onslaught of jealousy, I try to remind myself that I’m not my brother. I have self-control. And Paige isn’t the type of girl to be hooking up with a string of guys.
Charlie.
My mind catches on the name Paige shouted out, and I’m transported back to that muttered comment on Halloween. Charlie is my competition. The man who’s swinging Paige around like he has some claim to her is the one that woman at the party was talking about. The guy who has a stash of dirty magazines Paige knows about.
Who the hell is he?
“Dash, this is Charlie!” My girlfriend has finally let go of the man, but she still has her hand in his as she drags him over to me.
Yeah, no shit.I want to mutter the words out of pure pettiness, but I don’t want Paige to realize how immature I am. Charlie would probably never say something so rude.
I swallow down my worried anger as I stand and strive for cool detachment.
“Hey.” That, paired with a nod, is the best I can do.
Paige’s happy grin loses a bit of its sparkle as she stares up at me, and even though I’m not the one who brought the joy to her face I’m sorry to see it go.
Good job, idiot.
With a deep inhale I smother the jealousy until it’s little more than a tickle at the back of my neck. I even manage something that could be considered a smile as I offer my hand to the newcomer.
