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I couldn’t help myself. The moment I was inside, I pulled out my phone and checked the screen.
Emma:Okay. Thank you.
* * *
That wasn’t my heart tightening with anticipation, no it was not. I backed my truck into the drive at Emma’s dad’s, far enough away from the gate that I could pull it open to walk through to the yard. I looked around. Oh boy. If the back yard was anything like the front, it was going to be a big job.
I stepped onto the veranda, noting with a pang how worn everything looked. The floorboards were peeling and coming up in some places. The railing needed replacing. The old rocking chair Emma’s mom used to sit in looked like it’d fall apart if even a child sat on it. It made me realize that things were much tighter for Emma financially than she’d led me to believe. Raising my hand, I gave a start of surprise when the front door was opened before I could knock.
My heart skipped a few beats, and I shoved my hands in my pockets. Emma was looking very fucking kissable indeed, in black leggings and a hoodie, her hair in a loose knot on her head. She was barefoot and I noticed she wore red polish on her toenails. Hot as fuck.Thanks, Emma. I dragged my eyes to her face, then frowned. She did not look happy to see me. At all.
Keeping her voice low, she said, “Dad’s resting.”
“No problem. I can come back later, when he’s awake.”
“No. He rests a lot, so that’s pointless.”
Then she just stood there, the scowl on her face matching mine. What the fuck had I done to upset her so much? Should I have not let her shave me? That had been her own idea, for crying out loud. “Well, do you wanna show me what you want done, then?”
Blowing out a breath, she said, “I guess so.”
I bit my tongue. I really, really wanted to ask her what the fuck her problem was, but given that I was here doing her a favor, paying her back for what she’d done for me, that would be stupid.
She came through the door, pulling it quietly closed behind her. This brought her much closer to me, and I stepped back quickly. She moved by me, heading across the veranda to the steps.
“Put some shoes on!”
Scowling, she doubled back, opened the lid of a bench seat under the window and dragged out some boots, shoved her feet into them, and turned away without a word.What. The. Fuck. Is. Wrong. With. You?I followed, feeling a little like a loyal puppy. Pathetic.
Then of course the gate was stuck and she couldn’t push it open.
“Let me?”
She stood back and I shoved at the gate, wincing at the shriek of protest it made when it gave way under my hand.
“I’ve got some WD40 in the truck. I’ll give the hinges a spray before I leave.”
“Cool.” Hugging her arms across her middle, she went through the gate and I followed.
Yep, the back yard was a mess. Much worse than the front. Still, I could see the bones of the garden underneath the weeds and dead leaves. There were winding paths and garden beds in there somewhere. I could already see how it would look when it was all cleaned up.
“You can’t do this, Jake.”
“What? Of course I can.”
“It’s too much work.”
“Nah, I’ll just break it down into sections. I’ll start close to the house so your dad can sit out here when the weather’s good. Let me know when he’s awake so I can fire up the weed whacker.” I could see she wanted to argue, but I pushed on. “Look, I’m here now. I may as well make a start, at least.”
“Fine,” she sighed.
Then she was gone, leaving me to pull on my gloves and get started. It was good to be back to work and I enjoyed using my body again. The feeling of my blood warming enough that I could take my jacket off, the way my muscles stretched and flexed with the repetitive movements. It was easy, familiar work that allowed my mind to wander.
Down in the back corner of the yard, Emma’s mom had hung a hammock between two giant elms. It was Fall, like now and the fallen leaves made a thick carpet over the yard. We’d spent all afternoon raking them into a bonfire pile and I’d thrown a couple of logs on top for good measure. Now Emma was lying on the hammock, watching me set the leaves ablaze. She had a blanket over her legs, a beanie with a pom pom on her head, and she wore a thick, knitted sweater. I couldn’t help but smile at her.
“You’re lucky Dad’s not home.”
“How so?”
