“I have an addendum to what I’ve learned about you. You’re this loud, rowdy Southern boy who is actually a quiet recluse who prefers seclusion to company.”
“Should I be offended?” he edges, stretching his other arm.
After taking in his house, I spin to my own meager accommodations. “Only if you don’t want company.”
His grin widens. “I want your company any day of the week that I can walk around naked and don’t have to label my peanut butter in black Sharpie.”
I shake my head. “I don’t know what to do with those two things in the same sentence together, but I’ll take it. I’m going to call Mama to let her know I’m here safely and then Goldie to thank her for everything.”
“I’ll grab stuff from the trunk and then we can hit the hardware store. Oh, and Four Leaf Clover?”
Smiling at my nickname, I focus my gaze on his. A bout of self-conscious dread hits me when I think of what I must look like because of the way he’s studying me—eyes sliding up and down, all over my body. “What?” I ask, stomping a sneaker-clad foot in mock irritation.
He swallows hard. “I fell in love with you in Greenton, but I love you most right now. Looking like that, standing here, with me, giving me something to live for.”
It’s a lot to hear, it’s a lot to acknowledge, and it’s what I’ve prayed for my entire life. Someone who sees me and still wants to keep me when my makeup comes off.
Chapter Thirteen
___________________________________
Clover
“GOLDIE IS ONher way over here right now,” I shriek. “Fix it!”
“I can’t fix a hole in the drywall in five minutes, darlin’,” Mercer chirps back, smile still wide even though I’m perfectly horrified. “You have to admit, your sweet backside driving a hole in the wall is pretty funny.” I cross my arms over my paint-covered chest. “Come on, Clover. This is easy to fix.” He gestures to the butt sized hole mid-wall in the hallway. When I don’t respond, he laughs again. “I’m telling you I’ll fix it in no time, just not in five minutes without supplies. It was an accident. You tripped.”
“Stop laughing, Mercer.”
“I bet she’ll find this just as funny as I do. I mean, Clover Wellsley doing home improvements, painting the walls, stumbles over the paint tray and crashes into a wall, ass first.”
“Some kind of lady I’m turning into,” I huff out, just as I hear the screech of the doorbell. I wince. “Can we fix that sound next?” I ask, uncrossing my arms and offering a weak grin.
He shakes his head. “Still using those Southern ways to get what you want, are you? You forget where we’re at?”
“Are you telling me no?” I fire back.
He stands, paintbrush tipped in white in one hand. “Quite the contrary. I’ll always have a hard time telling you no, it may require a bit more than asking with a sweet smile on your face though. I’ll get back to you on the terms. Go grab the door.” Mercer winks.
My heart races as I think about tonight when I’ve washed the paint from every square inch of my body and I have Mercer alone, not confined in a moving vehicle. I’m exhausted, but something about the promise of later drives me forward.
I pat my hair and feel dried paint stuck in clumps as I rush toward the door. I pull it open and make sure that pageant smile is in place. “Goldie,” I exclaim.
“Oh Clover,” my cousin returns, but then her eyes peruse over my clothes and hair. “Are you okay?”
I slide my hands down Mercer’s old t-shirt I have tucked into a pair of jeans. “I’m doing some painting, remember,” I say, smile slipping a bit. I texted her to let her know about the paint color and my intentions. “Mercer is helping me of course, like I mentioned. It’s going to be beautiful.”
Goldie pulls me into a tentative hug. “Wow. Okay, well, you look as beautiful as always.” She pulls away to look me in the eye. “Still the picture of youth.” Goldie is in her forties and she is obsessed with youth. Being young. Anyone who is younger than her. How old everyone around her is. I’d forgotten how much it drives her personality. “I figured Mercer would paint and you’d sip sweet tea from the couch.”
I offer a fake, high pitched laugh. “And not get in on this DIY action? A full-on life change, Goldie,” I remind her. Mercer rounds the corner and I see Goldie’s eyes widen. Sure, she’s been up here for a decade and maybe her Southern roots have morphed into Northern steel, but I know what the look crossing her face means and I don’t like it one bit.
She crosses to him, her hand extended. Mercer wipes his hands on a rag he pulls from his back pocket. “Goldie,” he says, shaking her hand. “It’s been a really long time. Looks like you’re doing right fine for yourself.”
“You look good enough to eat, honey. I heard you bought the house across the street, but haven’t seen you around,” she coos at Mercer releasing his hand in favor of air kissing both of his cheeks. Mercer looks confused for a second but goes along with my cousin who seems to just have remembered her Southern manners. “When did you graduate Greenton High?” she asks, stepping away from him when I walk up.
He takes my hand. “Same year as Clover. Yes, I bought it, but I’m deployed most of the time. Or have been, I should say.”
She nods, lips pulling down in the corners, face lined and weary. “Spring chickens you are,” she rasps, honing in on our ages once again. “I confess I wasn’t expecting to see the both of you here like this. Doing...work. I could have called someone to get it done. There’s really no need to waste your time with menial tasks. I want Clover to be comfortable.” Goldie lifts her head higher. “It’s not going to be easy for her to adjust, so any comfort I can help her with is a win in my book.”
