Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
I head toward a self-serve car wash not far from my place, and he follows me there on his bike. I keep sneaking looks at him in the rearview mirror as we drive, still not completely able to believe that Renly’s back in my life.
The thought brings me up short, and I wonder if he really is. Back, I mean. After all, while our few moments on the street were full of excitement and adrenaline, it may turn out that we don’t have a single thing in common. He may end up at my house, and all we’ll have between us is some horrible, lingering silence.
Dear God, I hope not. Because right now, I’m buzzing with happiness from seeing him again. And I really don’t want that feeling to end.
I turn into the car wash lot, then pull into one of the little stalls. I take a deep breath before I kill the engine to center myself. No matter what happens, it’s good to reconnect with him. And so long as I keep reminding myself of that, everything will be fine. It’s all about managing expectations, after all, and I do that every single day with clients.
In the rearview mirror, I watch as he gets off the bike, then walks toward me across the lot. I get out and meet him at the rear of the car.
“I haven’t got a single quarter,” he says. “Do you?”
I laugh. “Not a one. But I do have a credit card.” I’m about to walk over to that side and start the system running, but he gets there first, sliding in his card and then grinning at me as the machinery starts rumbling.
This particular car wash has a hose on each side of the stall. I’ve always assumed that was so that you don’t have to drag a dirty hose over your newly cleaned half in order to wash the other side. Now I consider another purpose.
Renly apparently has the same thought, because I see the gleam in his eyes as he goes to the far side, then grabs the coiled hose, his hand poised on the nozzle.
“Don’t you even think about it,” I say, going for my own hose.
His eyes widen, all innocent and guileless. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I burst out laughing. Then, still laughing, I pull the trigger on my own hose and spray him, accidentally getting him full-on in the crotch.
“Seriously?” he says. “Sweetheart, you are so going to pay for that.”
“Phhbbt.” I dance away from the spray he aims at me. “I would have thought someone in the military would have a faster reaction time.”
He aims again, and this time manages to completely soak the T-shirt I’d worn to work this morning. “Hey!” I protest. “This is a genuine discount bin Old Navy T-shirt. How dare you defile it?”
“Well, it fits you very nicely,” he says, letting his eyes skim over me in what I know is an exaggerated leer.
I glance down, realizing that since I knew I was going to be the only one in the office today, I hadn’t bothered to wear a bra. That’s something I can usually get away with, but in a wet T-shirt, even my barely-B-cup breasts look pretty perky.
I roll my eyes. “Perv.”
“I apologize for nothing.”
“Behave,” I order, then point to the Fiat’s hood. “And clean.”
He does, this time aiming the spray so that it doesn’t splash goo on me. I join in from my side, and soon enough we’ve not only eradicated the fake blood but have thoroughly cleaned the entire car.
He steps back, looking it over like a foreman on an assembly line before meeting my eyes over the roof. “Do you remember all those times we’d run around in your backyard, me with the hose from the back of the house, and you with the one from the side?”
“I nailed you almost every time,” I say.
“Like hell you did. I let you get away with it. I’m a year older than you, remember? I had to watch over you. Be careful not to bruise that fragile child’s confidence.”
I make a face. “A week,” I say. “Our birthdays are only one week apart.” December and January, true, but still only a week.
“It is what it is. Two different years. I’m clearly older and wiser.”
“Wiseass, I think you mean.”
“Well, that’s true enough,” he says, then shakes his head.
“What?”
“I just…I just can’t believe it’s been so long since we talked.”
My whole body seems to go soft. “I know. Me too.”
For a moment, silence lingers. Then, just before it gets weird, I clear my throat. “Right,” I say. “So, um, we should probably get to my house. I could use some dry clothes.” I grimace. “I’m sorry I sprayed you. I didn’t even think about the fact that you probably don’t keep a change of clothes folded up somewhere on your bike.”
“If you have a dryer, I think we’ll be just fine.”
“Right,” I say, trying not to blush as I think about what he’s going to wear as his clothes are spinning. “I’m a full-service hostess. I’ll even wash them for you if you want.”
“I never turn down a free wash,” he says with such mock seriousness I start laughing all over again.
I get myself under control, then clear my throat. “Okay, let’s go.”
He takes a step, then stumbles. He reaches out, steadying himself with a hand on the hood of my car as I hurry that way. “Are you okay?”
He holds up a hand. “Yeah. Yeah, I just slipped on some leftover stuff on the ground.”
He glances toward his bike, then back at me. “Why don’t I ride with you and get it tomorrow or later tonight?”
“Um, yeah, if you’re sure.” I nod to the car. “Hop on in.”
It’s not far to my place, and I score a spot right in front of the duplex. It’s probably just as well that he left his bike at the car wash since parking on my street requires a permit. Besides, I know the car wash’s owner and he won’t mind. In fact, I send him a text just to let him know.
We get out, and right away I see Lilah sitting on the front porch, watching us with an eagle eye. It’s a friendly neighborhood, and Lilah and I like to drink wine on the shared front porch and chat with the neighbors. Especially the forty-something TV writer who moved in across the street and has completely captured Lilah’s imagination. So I’m not surprised to see her on the porch now, especially since we’d planned to do that very thing tonight.
“Look at you,” she calls as we get out of the car. “Bringing home random men?”
“Ha ha,” I say. “Lilah, meet Renly.” I keep my eyes on her face to watch her reaction. I’m immediately rewarded, and she actually stands up, pushing herself out of the chair as if in reflex.
“Empty locker Renly?”
“Yup.” I turn to face Renly directly. “I know Lilah because of you,” I say. “Lilah, Renly. Renly, Lilah.”
“I inherited your locker,” Lilah tells him. She holds out her hand to shake his as we reach the porch. “You kept it clean. There was no sweaty boy smell at all.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear that, but I have a feeling that’s more to do with the janitorial staff than me. I was definitely a sweaty boy back then.”
She looks at me, then grins. “He’s got a good aura,” she says, then adds, “I would tell you to come out and sit with me and have some wine so I can interrogate you both about your childhood, but I have to blow off tonight’s drinking session. Turns out that I have a date.”
“Really?”
“Yep. With a charming little man who has a thing about clownfish.”
I laugh. “Babysitting?”
“All night. My cousin and her husband are doing their anniversary at a hotel. So be as loud as you want,” she adds with a sly look at Renly.
She lowers her voice, as if whispering a secret. “Abby’s bedroom shares a wall with my living room.”
To his credit, Renly barely reacts, but I see the way his eyes brighten with humor, and the corner of his lip twitches. I shake my head as if in exasperation. “Lilah. You know we’re just friends. Like friend friends.”
“Friends with benefits. It’s the only way to go. Way less messy than a relationship.”
I shake my head, then glance sideways at Renly. “Lilah’s a great friend and I love her, but if you want to demonstrate how you can kill her with your bare hands I won’t hold it against you.” I shift my attention back to Lilah. “All that SEAL training, you know.”
“And that’s my cue,” she says. “Seriously, you two have fun catching up. I want to hear everything about how you found each other tomorrow,” she adds, pointing to me before she picks up her wine and pushes open her front door.
I unlock my door then usher him inside. I’m about to step in myself when Lilah pops her head back out and mouths, He’s hot.
“He’s a friend,” I whisper, but I can tell by her expression that she doesn’t believe me. Unlike me, Lilah is more than happy with the friends with benefits thing.
I give her a stern look, then head inside to find Renly leaning against the wall of my entryway. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to meet her back in high school.”
“Her family lived in Los Angeles until they moved to Castaic. They bought that ranch that went into foreclosure. She’s cool, but she’s also a pain in my ass.”
He laughs. “I’m glad you found such a good friend.”
Happiness blooms in me. Because Lilah really is a good friend, and it’s clear that Renly still knows me well enough to realize that.
“At any rate, I like her.”
“Thank you for the seal of approval.” I sweep my hand, ushering him into the rest of the place. It’s small, only a two bedroom, one of which I use as an office. The living room is roomy, though, and the kitchen is open and flows into the space.
The back door is an actual door, not glass, but the yard it leads to is awesome. Open and grassy with a picnic table and flowers lining the fence. Lilah tells me that when her parents bought the place, there was a fence dividing the two sides, but she took it down when she moved in. She planned to put it back up again once she found a tenant, but since the tenant turned out to be me, we’ve left it down. It makes for some great parties.
“I’ve got a pair of my dad’s old pajamas that I wore when I painted my bedroom. That and one of my T-shirts should do you, right?”
“Sounds good,” he says, and I lead him into my bedroom. I pull out the blue-and-white striped bottoms then grab an extra-large Disney tee that I often wear to sleep.
“Minnie Mouse?”
I shrug. “You’ll do her proud.”
“Right,” he says as I point him to the bathroom.
While he’s changing, I grab a loose maxi dress and change in the closet, then toss my wet clothes into a basket and wait for Renly to emerge and give me his. He does, and then he follows me to the laundry area off the kitchen, where I start a load of cold.
I’m about to offer him the full tour when I see him rubbing his temple, one hand pressed against the wall.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Just a headache.”
“Oh. I think I’ve got some ibuprofen. I should probably offer you that instead of the drink I was planning to suggest.”
“Actually, bourbon if you have it. Believe it or not, whiskey helps.”
“But when doesn’t it, really?”
He grins. “We always did think alike.”
I bring us both drinks and sit on the opposite end of the sofa, then shift around to get more comfortable. He pats his thighs.
I laugh, then put my bare feet in his lap, so that my back is against the arm rest. It’s comfortable and easy, more so than I would have expected after so many years. But we’ve sat like this a hundred thousand times before, talking late into the night or watching television or just gossiping about school.
I realize that he’s watching me, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
“What?”
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” he says, “but I didn’t realize how much I missed you until I saw you.”
Happiness spreads through me like warm thick syrup. “Yeah,” I say. “I know exactly what you mean.”