Mick grumbled again.
“And can I count on you for the tasting? Or shall I call Richard?”
“Who’s Richard?”
“Dr. Richard Hunt. That doctor I was telling you about. Heart surgeon at the hospital. Such a remarkable young man,” she said, gently stressing the word “young.”
Richard Hunt, Mick thought, noting the name and fully intending to Google him tonight and see if this was a bluff. “Okay. I’ll go with Lacey. But I’m not eating anything that isn’t cooked or has a name I don’t recognize.”
***
It was at least another hour before the drain was fixed. But he won the battle. His back was sore and he had lost feeling in one finger, but he won.
He mopped up the water under the sink for the last time and headed into the garage to return the wrench to Doc’s old toolbox.
Glancing at the clock, he opted to give himself some recovery time and helped himself to one of the Sam Adams that Mrs. B always had on hand for him. Throwing back a few refreshing gulps, he sat appeased at the kitchen table, glad it was Saturday.
He had to admit, he was beginning to enjoy the concept of weekends. Who would have thought? When he was deployed, there was no time off. War doesn’t take a two-day break after five days. One day just runs into another.
He had never minded because he loved his work. But after being stationed here for a few months, he was starting to look forward to time when he wasn’t accountable to anyone. He could sip a beer in the middle of the afternoon and not worry about letting his guard down. He could look forward to seeing Lacey tonight for pizza and Scrabble.
Whoever thought a guy like him would be excited about playing board games?
If he had any sense, he’d be at O’Toole’s looking for any halfway-hot single woman who was content in a short-term-leading-nowhere relationship with an officer like himself. God knew this was the longest he had ever gone without sex. Well, except when he was living in a war zone.
Besides, it was just a matter of time before she sold that waterfront house she listed. And if she intended to celebrate her success in a carnal way, Mick was going to make sure he was the one she celebrated with.
Certainly not some damn doctor, he thought. Lacey was too trusting to be in the company of someone like that. He envisioned a perfectly preened guy in his Armani suit spewing smooth lines that he had perfected from years of picking up women. The guy probably waxed his eyebrows.
Mick felt his grip on the bottle tighten. He suddenly wanted to strangle the man for even looking at Lacey.
She was so unsuspecting. So honest, he thought as he took another sip. Nothing hidden. With her straightforward clothes and her light coat of makeup, Mick already could guess exactly what she looked like in the morning.
Oh, how he wanted to be there in the morning one day to see for himself.
His eyes wandered to the wedding photo across the room. Doc and Mrs. B looked so content, so complete in each other’s company. That had always been the way they seemed, complete. Mick had to admit, it was a little like how he felt when Lacy walked into a room. It wasn’t just a surge of testosterone that urged him to take her on any nearby solid surface. There was a feeling of satisfaction, of wholeness, just knowing she was there.
Mick let out a groan, painfully aware of where his mind was wandering…not too far from picket fences and babies and establishing roots.
Feeling oddly unsettled, he tossed back the last of his beer and put it in the recycling bin. A folder with a real estate agency’s logo caught his eye. It was the same agency where Lacey worked, Mick was pretty sure. Too comfortable in his surroundings to even consider it wasn’t his business, he opened the folder.
He scanned it carelessly at first. Then, his blood pressure rising with each page, he went over the contents with greater care.
It was a proposal to sell Mrs. B’s house. Prepared by Lacey.
He stared at it in utter disbelief.
Lacey knew what this house meant to him. She knew how vulnerable Mrs. B was right now. Yet apparently she had no problem moving in for the kill, probably eyeing the huge commission that Mick noticed listed on page six.
His eyes darted around the room, slightly panicked, imagining potential buyers marching through this house—a house he cherished.
The heat of betrayal burned a hole in his stomach. What a fool he was, thinking Lacy was such a straight-shooter while meanwhile, she’s plotting to take advantage of a vulnerable old woman and sell the only place Mick had ever thought of as “home.”
He stormed out the door, nearly forgetting to lock it behind him.
***
Lacey sat at the front desk of the downtown real estate office and willed the phone to ring. She shouldn’t mind the responsibility of covering phones. As the newest agent, she was the low man on the totem pole. But no one would call today. People were too busy picking out pumpkins with their children or taking long drives in the nearby countryside to witness the changing of the leaves.