She doesn’t loosen her death grip. Instead, she squeezes tighter. “Oh, I just love you.”
I clamp my cheeks together, but there’s no helping it. A fog horn rips out of my ass. It bounces off the houses as it echoes down the street. It’s surprising a blinding light doesn’t shoot out of my forehead.
Mom lets go of me and covers her face. “Kelsey Marie!”
“Well, it’s your fault. You’re the one who thinks a hug is a test of strength and endurance.”
Mom purses her lips.
“Stop giving me the stink-eye, or I’ll have to fart on you again.”
She rolls her eyes.
I shrug. “I have gas. Sue me.”
“Guess I don’t know my own strength.” Mom giggles as she waves her hand in front of her face. “But whew, you sure are strong!”
I let out an exasperated sigh. “You’re the one who insisted I eat those nasty beans.”
She ducks into her car. “Peas, dearest. Black-eyed peas. And don’t worry, you’re Grandma Radcliffe had the worst gas of any woman I’ve ever known. She’d walk across the room, farts slipping out with each step she took. Did it so much, she eventually quit excusing herself. Of course, there really was no excuse for her anyway—”
I step back and cross my arms. “Bye, Mom. Drive safely.”
“You’ll let me know when she’s home. Don’t forget,” Mom calls as she backs out of my driveway.
“Of course I’ll call.” When I recover from that last hug and after finish my book.
She stops when she’s pointed in the right direction. “And, Kelsey, dear?”
“Yes, Mom?”
“Do tell that good-looking neighbor of yours that I said hello.”
My eyes go wide. My heart stutters.
I may die here and now.
Please, God, don’t let Adam be over there. Let her have seen him when she got here. I’m begging.
With a knot of embarrassed dread, I turn. Heat rushes to my cheeks.
Adam waves and grins. “Your mom?”
I close my eyes and nod.
Why can’t a person swallow their tongue on command? Death would be preferable to this moment.
“She sure loves you hard. Doesn’t she?”
I drag in a deep breath. “Yes. She does. And I love her. Damn it. I. Love. Her. I do. Really. I freaking love her.”
I will say these words until they’re true again.
In the meantime, since I can’t melt into a bubbling gassy puddle, I’ll slink into my house and hope I never see Adam again.
Ever.
Demolition work has its advantages.
Free therapy.
Tearing the living shit out of something could be a form of mental healing.
I carry out another piece of the kitchen cabinetry. The wood they were made of wasn’t much heavier than plywood, but slinging the sledgehammer let off some of the pent-up pressure I’ve been hauling around with me since the other night with Kelsey.
She still hasn’t answered my email. I have no fucking idea what that means.
Did she not like the pictures I posted? Does she think the email I sent was creepy or stupid? Maybe she just hasn’t opened her email.
Fuck if I know.
I toss the scraps of broken up wood into the rented dumpster.
Her garage door is up.
Is she in there working out?
Images of the last time I found her in her garage and what happened directly afterward swamp me. My cock hardens.
Should I casually go over and say hello?
No. Probably not. I bet she already thinks I stalk her. I don’t, of course—well, not intentionally.
I pull my phone from the cargo pocket of my shorts.
She wouldn’t have given me her number if she didn’t want me to text.
Then again, after yesterday afternoon with her mom in the driveway, she may never want to see me again. The look on her face when she turned and saw me standing there, knowing I’d heard her was fucking priceless.
Well, only one way to find out if she’ll talk to me.
-Hey, Beautiful Girl. How’s the writing going?-
I shove my phone into the side pocket of my pants and get my ass back to work.
Almost an hour later, her reply comes through.
-It was going, and then Chloe decided to take a nap on my keyboard and erased a shit-ton of the words I had. Now I have to re-do them, because I’m too computer illiterate to figure out how to recover them.-
Fuck yes. Perfect.
I skip the return text and head next door.
She answers the doorbell, shoving the kitten behind her with her foot. “Hey. What’re you doing here?”
Her mussed red hair glints like flames in the evening sun. Even with no make-up, she’s striking.
“I think I can help you.”
Her expression is puzzled. “With what?”
“Your file. I think I can retrieve your words for you.”