“The T-shirt,” she said, pointing to his black shirt that claimed he drank beer, fixed stuff, and knew things.
He nodded, still giving her that half smile. “I like a beer once in a while, but I’m good with anything.”
“Lemonade?”
“Hard?”
“I can make it that way.”
He nodded. “Sounds good.”
“Meet me on my porch?” she suggested. No way was she inviting him in the house for her mother’s friends to speculate over. She shouldn’t even be inviting him on the porch for herself to speculate over. What a stupid idea this had been.
“Keeping me away from your mom, huh?” he said.
She couldn’t tell if he was kidding or not, but she decided to act as if he was. “Just trying to protect you. Plus it’s better to keep you outside where all the neighbors can make sure you’re behaving,” she added, throwing his earlier taunt back at him.
“Oh, yeah, that. Okay, ditch the dog and I’ll be over in a few.”
By the time she’d mixed vodka and lemonade in two tall glasses, assured her mother she was simply thanking their neighbor for the free dog training lesson, and stepped back outside, he was sprawled on the cement porch of their rambler, his legs stretched out over the two steps leading to it, and he had a large bag of corn chips open next to him.
She sat down opposite him and handed over his glass. The jitters were really going at it and she wished she’d paid for the free dog training session with only a thank-you. The last thing she needed was to sit on her front steps with this man.
He took a drink and nodded approvingly. “Good stuff.” Then he tipped the bag toward her.
It was such a... friendly gesture. So innocuous. So not like the fierce stranger on the other side of the fence. So... misleading? What was she doing sitting there with this man? It was weird and she shouldn’t have been. Maybe she had self-destructive tendencies.
She shook her head. “No, thanks. So, what’s with the shirt? Do you really know stuff?”
“Gag gift from my crew for my birthday,” he said and popped a chip in his mouth. He washed it down with another drink of her lemonade, then said, “So, how long has your mom lived here?”
“Years. I grew up here. I spent a lot of time at your house when I was a kid. My best friend lived there.”
“The perfect childhood, huh? Lucky you.” He took another chip out of the bag and popped it in his mouth.
“What about you?” she asked. Had his childhood been less than idyllic? If so, it would explain the anger issues.
He shrugged. “Long story.”
Okay. So much for sharing.
She wasn’t sure what to say next, so she settled for “Thanks for your help with Darling.”
“Work with him and he’ll turn into a good dog.” He cocked his head and shared half a smile. “See? I can be nice. When I’m not hiding bloody bones in my yard.”
Her face caught fire and she frowned. “Are you ever going to get over that?”
“Maybe someday. When it stops making you blush,” he added, his voice teasing. “You look cute when you blush.”
The fire burned brighter before a chill came over her. Maybe he’d get over her mom’s goof, but she doubted she’d forget all the screaming and yelling she’d heard coming from his place.
“So, I guess your houseguest is gone for good,” she said.
His expression soured. “Gone but not forgotten.”
“People say that at funerals.” Crap! Where had that come from?
Wherever it had come from, he didn’t like it. “Not you, too.”
