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My conscience tells me to go over there and say thank you.
But I am not feeling it.
I have my furry friends. I don’t need anyone, least of all a bossy neighbor who thinks he’s the alpha dog. Honestly. Tearing down my fence and putting up a new one. What kind of nerve?
I scowl as I prepare my dinner. And then I notice, on the counter, a brand new iPhone with a note containing the six-digit passcode. I never had one and I don’t want one now. But I pick it up and examine it. It’s already been set up and there’s a text with a link.
It says, “You can watch the security feed here.”
Instead, I use the phone to call Boone.
“Hey, sis.”
“Hey, Pastor Butthead.”
He laughs. “What’s up, troublemaker?”
“You are not gonna believe this neighbor problem I have.”
I launch into the whole story. When it ends, I expect Boone to be on my side.
“It sounds like you found your new bodyguard for your misadventures.”
“Oh, shut up.”
He chuckles. “Hey, listen, I see the senator’s finally come out of his office, I gotta go bend his ear about a homeless vet thing. But really, that Daniel guy definitely likes you. I…sorta know a thing or two about trying to get a girl’s attention.”
I’m about to ask what the hell he means by that when he hangs up in a rush.
I am hopping mad—about the fence, about the cameras, about the phone. But as I bite into my salad, that fancy phone is right in front of my face and the camera link is calling out my name.
“I guess it won’t hurt to watch it just this once.”
I set down my fork and click.
Soon, I am in a double-screen feed that shows me the front gate and the fence along the subdivision.
It’s pretty clear.
It looks as if I can rewind it as well, so I do. I reverse the footage all the way back to the beginning. The time stamp is from this morning, while I’d been out running errands and checking around for Terrence. Daniel is on the screen, working on the fence himself.
“Oh,” I say.
I had assumed he’d had his workers install that fence.
He’s quite handy. I watch his large hands and amazing biceps dig post holes with proper equipment. He is sweating like a…well, like a man. I realize there’s something about a brawny man using an auger. It is working for me.
And then he breaks me. A few minutes in, during a stopping point, he bends down and pets Fluffer-Nutter, who’s been nosing around. The petting turns into Fluffer-Nutter hopping up and knocking him down, and in no time it’s a dog pile of happiness.
I cannot stop myself from laughing out loud.
OK. Fine. The dogs don’t hate him. And he does like dogs, despite his gruff words.
Doesn’t mean I have to like him.
Because I don’t.
No sir, I don’t like him at all.
