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I sit down on the step and she sits next to me while I write down a few needed things to begin the repairs. “I wouldn’t worry about Drew too much, unless you know for sure he’s getting into stuff you know he shouldn’t. It’s growing pains. He’ll get into a bit of trouble but hopefully nothing serious. Give him a little room to figure himself out but keep reminding him he has a family in this house who cares about him and has his back.”
“I’ll keep trying, but damn, he makes it hard sometimes. Thanks for listening to me rant.” She looks down at her fingers. “I know you didn’t expect to play a part-time therapist and handyman on your day off.”
“Are you kidding me?” I pull back my head in mock astonishment. “This has been the highlight of my week.” I put my pad and paper down on the porch step beside me and hold my hand out to her to help her up. “Holding hands with a pretty girl, I couldn’t ask for anything better. Actually, I could.” I lean in waggling my brows. “How about that date?” I slot my fingers between hers. The fact she doesn’t pull away, but smiles, is encouraging.
She rolls her eyes and chuckles. “Let’s see how good you are with a hammer and wood first, Noah, before I commit to anything.”
There she goes using my name again. Like music to my ears. “Did you say wood? I think I’ll keep my wood under wraps until we get to know each other a little better. Then I’ll be popping so much wood you’ll think I’m a lumberjack.”
“Oh my god!” She throws her head back and laughs. “You did not just say that. Awful.”
Yeah, it was but it made her laugh. I laugh along with her. And for the rest of the day, we share a few more of those laughs and little touches. The best day I’ve had in a long time.
Nine
LEXI
“Hey Shauna, can you pass me the small brush and that rose blush lipstick.”
“Sure. Here you go.” She hands it to me in front of my bathroom mirror where she’s putting on her mascara.
“God, it’s quiet, hold on a minute. I think we need some music. Something to get us ready to show these gentlemen a good time.” I do a little shimmy out of the bathroom to my bedroom and put something on. I dance back in singing, “I’m coming out, I want the world to know…” I bump my hips against hers to the beat.
“Oh yes! Get it, girl, go ahead. Woo, I can’t remember when you’ve been this happy to head out to the club. Scratch that…never. You've never been happy to go to the club.”
“Can’t I be happy, too, let me live without a reason?” I happily hum while applying my foundation.
“Sure you can! I’m all for it. But this is something else. You’ve been doom and gloom for a while. Now you’re getting ready to sing into the job you profess to hate.” She turns to me and waves her finger. “No girl, you had sex, didn’t you?”
I laugh because that’s the first thing that Shauna would come up with. “Nope. Changed the locks.”
“Changed the locks?” She stares at me, her bottom lip turned down. “Can’t see the connection between this giddiness and locks. If this is what new locks do for you, I think it’s time you got out more and stopped working so much. Cause that’s saaad.” She picks up her mascara wand, genuinely puzzled, mumbling to herself, “Changed the locks.”
I laugh and say, “I had help. Noah.”
“Noah…who?”
“Holden’s brother Noah.”
Her hand freezes over her eye. A slow smile creeps up her face. “Hot cop to the rescue. He came over and tinker with your lock. I get it now. Sing that song, girl. When’s the next date?” She swivels her hips, and I laugh.
“There is and was no date or sex. We talked. He was doing a favor for his aunt by fixing my lock to keep my mother out, and he’s going to help me fix the porch before someone falls through it and sues us for the money we don’t have. We talked. And he’s not what I thought he would be. Turns out he’s a nice guy who happens to be a cop. He really just came to fix my lock.”
“He’s doing all of this work for free?”
“Yeah.”
“And you said he’s a nice guy you had a good conversation with?”
“Yeah.”
“And he didn’t want any of the goodie goodie? None?”
I laugh at her choice of replacement words for the female anatomy. She’s creative like that. “Nope.”
“You must be sick in the head. You should have scooped that man up and showed him a good time. At least a damn date and a feel-up, you know, to be polite for the work and all. A little thank you.”
“Only in your world would that be considered a polite way to say thank you.” I rinse the foundation off my fingers and wipe my hand on a towel. “I can’t date him.”
