“She told us.” Calvin speaks in the well, duh manner only teens have mastered, ranking right up there with the word whatever. Thankfully, I don’t have direct experience with this attitude as my boys are young, but I’m certain they’ll be perfecting that tone and enunciation before they reach ten. Such overachievers.
“She didn’t want us to accidentally show up when she was sunbathing,” Calvin clarifies.
“Sunbathing?” I choke. She certainly looks like she’s bathing, all glistened up and in the nude while soaking up the sun’s rays and absorbing the heat on her skin. My skin feels equally hot, and I want to slippery slide all over hers. A shaky hand comes to the bridge of my nose, pinching it. I close my eyes a second.
“Okay. Are we golfing or what?” I demand, my voice sharper than normal.
“Golfing,” Calvin mutters, spinning on his heels and leaving my room.
“I wonder what kind of landscaping they have on the course,” Logan begins, placing a hand on my shoulder and squeezing it. “Because you, my friend, are in a serious need of a hole in one.”
It’s Mason’s turn to laugh out loud, and he high-fives Logan over my head.
Sometimes, I hate these two.
4
[River]
“What’s going on here?” The rough masculine voice startles me from my position kneeling beside the flower beds along the side of my yard. When I moved in, the run-down house was in need of a good cleaning, but the yard was worse. It’s been a labor of love to get the outside under control. My goal is to restore these gardens to their original glory.
My hands are covered in dirt as I twist at the waist and face a grumpy, growly gorgeous man. Dressed in khaki shorts and an untucked pink dress shirt, he looks uptight for someone wearing such semi-casual attire.
“Hello,” I say, ignoring his rude tone and offering a bright smile. Kindness soothes the toughest moods, my grandfather would say. Standing, I brush at the mix of grass and soil caked on my knees. My hands are hopelessly dirty, nearly black. Holding them up palm out suggests I’d reach out to shake his hand, but it’s probably not a good idea. What’s also not good is how this yummy man is glaring at me. His eyes roam my body before drifting to the two boys up in the tree fort, and it gives me a moment to observe him.
His hair is dirty blond and a bit longer on the top than the sides. His cheekbones are edgy cliffs, and his light eyes are hard. A bit of shadow covers his jaw, accentuating a lush mouth that could dazzle if he smiled. He’s not dazzling at the moment, though. He’s scowling.
“I assume these two belong to you.” Keeping my voice light, cheery even, I nod toward the tree fort. I offer another smile before turning to face the boys who have climbed the rickety wood ladder and found their way into the tree fort in one of the solid old maples. Uncertain who they were at first, how they wandered into the yard, or where they belonged, I decided to hang outside to keep an eye on them. They weren’t easily deterred from leaving the tree fort that didn’t belong to them, but they eventually told me their names. They said they were on vacation next door, and their dad knew where they were. If I thought it strange that a man would let his two boys wander uninvited into my yard, I let it pass. They weren’t causing any harm, and it was nice to see little ones enjoying that ancient platform in the tree.
“Get down from there,” the man snaps at the boys, causing me to flinch before he turns back to me. Another scowl instantly forms on his sculpted cheeks. “They shouldn’t be up there. It isn’t safe.”
He’s probably right, but I’ve been up there myself in the past year, and it held me. Those boys can’t weigh more than a hundred pounds collectively. Plus, I don’t know why he’s angry with me. His boys wandered into my yard.
“They haven’t been a bother,” I remark, still keeping a smile plastered on my face.
“That’s not the point.” His sharp retort startles me, and my kindness meter wavers. I’m used to grumps, those who overreact, and overall grouchy people, but I normally have a handle on why someone is this way before they give me attitude like this stranger is giving me. Have we met before? What am I missing here?
“What is your point?” I teasingly demand, placing my hands on my hips and cocking one to the side. I do not like his tone, nor do I appreciate the way he’s glaring at me as if I did something wrong. Still, my smile only falters a little bit. “Are those your boys or not?”
“They aren’t yours,” he barks with an implication I’m not liking. His eyes are fixated on me for the blink of an eye. Literally, he blinks and looks away, scowling even harder as he growls again. “Trevor. Oliver. Get down here.”
“What’s the problem?” His surly tone toward his boys concerns me, and so does the glare he returns to me. Is there something on my face? Dirt smudged everywhere shouldn’t be enough to disgust him. It’s obvious I’m gardening. Then I take another sweep of his body. His impeccably pressed shirt suggests he’s never done a day of hard work in his life. A little dirt on his face might do him wonders. He might even smile.
“The problem?” Hothead snaps. “Do you always let little boys play in your yard?”
I realize it might seem strange to let two little boys play in my backyard when I don’t know them, but they wandered here. It’s not like I lured them in. They were enjoying themselves, and I rarely hear such easy banter and innocent laughter from children. Normally, it’s hard-pressed and not easily earned in my line of work. The sound of children laughing has a priceless value. Staring at his spiffy clothing, I’m not certain this dad appreciates the gift he has in two healthy children scampering in a tree fort. Plus, if these are his boys, he’s the one who lost them.
“Just what are you suggesting? I thought I was being nice, helpful even. It’s only next door. It’s not like they wandered out to the street or down to the lake. It’s not like I’ve told them to get lost. I kept them safely within eyesight.”
Admittedly, other than friendly waves and brief words, I don’t know my neighbors. I’m aware someone recently died as I saw the black attire and endless visitors. I hate how familiar I’ve become with such clothing and gatherings. The only person I’ve officially met next door is Mason, who lives over the garage. One day, he felt the need to introduce himself. His words, not mine. Just being a friendly neighbor, he flirted with a blinding smile. He’s too good-looking for his own good and has player written all over him, but he was harmless enough.
Hot Daddy swipes a hand through his hair in frustration and glances away from me for a moment.
“I’m sorry.” He blows out a breath in exasperation and lowers his voice. “They’re . . . a handful.”
My brows lift, surprised at his assessment. The boys have been a joy. When I first heard small voices in the yard, I thought I was losing my mind because I didn’t see them right away. I hadn’t thought to look up, but instead gazed out across the lawn leading to the cliff’s edge. When I finally glanced toward the tree, my first concern equaled their father’s. It wasn’t safe up there, but I’d been on the platform myself, and the second I heard their laughter, my worry eased. I came outside to introduce myself and learn who they were. Admittedly, I did hesitate, wondering how they’d entered the yard and if a parent really did know where they were. While I wasn’t opposed to bribing, I wasn’t about to give candy to a stranger’s children to coax them out of the fort. Plus, they were playing, using their imagination, enjoying the outdoors. It was a marvel and a rare commodity among the children I knew.