Chapter 6
Chapter Six
JESSE
I sat nursing a beer when I heard the quiet knock at the back door.
“Come in,” I called, knowing it was Casey.
She walked in, carrying a plate. “Hi.”
I nodded, not bothering to get up. “Finally coming for your cat?”
She set down the plate and came into the living room. She grinned when she saw Barney and Miller curled up together. “You said Miller didn’t like cats. Look at them!”
I shrugged. “Apparently not all cats.”
She narrowed her eyes, staring at me. “Are you okay?”
“Yep.”
“You look tired.”
“I always am after three days straight. This time, it was four. I’m beat.” I swallowed a mouthful of lukewarm beer. “Got your date lined up?”
She tilted her head. “I wasn’t aware I was going on a date.”
“With your delivery guy.” I indicated the wall that separated our living spaces. “Sorry I showed up. I’m sure Cal would have loved to help you test out the new bed ,” I said with an exaggerated eye roll. I snorted into my almost-empty can. “Although I’m sure you can do better than a deliveryman.”
She stared at me, and I wasn’t sure if she was about to punch me or laugh in my face.
Maybe both.
She leaned down, her hand on her hip. “For your information, Cal is working part time as he goes to school to pay for his rent and tuition. His wife , Lori, is already working full time so he can get his degree. He invited me to go out with them and some other friends, as a group, since he knew I was new in town and thought Lori and I would get along.”
I lifted my eyebrows in surprise at her tone. I had a feeling that punch was coming next.
“And if you think I’d bed some stranger who delivered my furniture, you are a lousy judge of character.”
“Right,” I muttered. “My bad.”
She turned and picked up Barney, ignoring Miller’s low whine of protest and how unhappy her cat looked.
“I get you’re grumpy. But today, I would add asshole to the list.”
She turned, pausing by the door. “I brought you dinner to say thanks for helping and because I figured you’d be tired. I’m not going to take it back since I want to think you’re being an asshole because you’re tired. And because I’m a bigger person.”
She left, allowing the screen door to slam shut behind her. Then as quickly as she walked out, she burst back in again.
“For future reference, Thorne, I would at least wait until he bought me dinner and a drink before I let him help me test the bed . You might want to remember that.”
And then she was gone.
I set down my beer and groaned.
She was right on all counts.
I was tired. I was a grump, and today, I’d acted like an asshole.
A jealous asshole.
What the fuck was wrong with me?
I lifted the lid on the plate, staring at the food she had left me. Pot roast. Hot, fragrant, still-steaming pot roast. With potatoes and carrots.
Smothered in onion gravy.
Goddammit, I loved onion gravy.
I grabbed a fork and sat down, taking a mouthful of the meat. It fell apart as I cut it and was so flavorful, I slammed my hand on the table and cursed.
“Dammit, this is good.”
I ate steadily until the plate was clean. Then I grabbed a slice of bread and mopped up every bit of that gravy. I sat back with a groan.
Why the fuck had I pissed her off, today of all days? I couldn’t exactly ask for more now. I wanted to, but I was certain she’d slam the door in my face. I’d be Oliver Twist, begging for seconds, only to be cast aside.
Beside me, Miller scratched at the door.
“Sorry, bud. I think we’re both cut off for the day.”
I let my head fall back. I needed to think of how to apologize.
I scrubbed my face. I needed to sleep, and my head would be clearer.
I could come up with a plan then.
I woke up the next morning, showered, and took Miller for a long walk. He stayed by my side, happy to be outside. In town, I headed to the bakery, walking in and inhaling deeply. Cinnamon, sugar, and yeast dough scents filled the air. I walked to the counter, being greeted by Sandy, the owner.
“Jesse, what can I get you?”
“I need something sweet and decadent.”
“Well, you’ve come to the right place.”
I chuckled. “What’s your recommendation?”
“Chelsea pull-aparts are just coming out of the oven. They’re rich and gooey. Sticky perfection, my Al says.”
“What are they?”
“Like small cinnamon knots with cherries, raisins, and with or without nuts. They bake in a sticky caramel sauce, and while hot, I flip them so the sauce runs through them.”
“Sounds perfect. No nuts, though,” I added, unsure if Casey ate nuts. She certainly had mine in her palm right now, but not really the same thing.
I took the buns, Sandy fed Miller a dog treat she baked, and then we headed for home. As I went past the front, I noticed the wreath again, plus the fact that Casey had added a small table and a chair with pillows. She was certainly settling in.
I went to the kitchen, made coffee, and put the bun thing on the plate she’d brought over. I had washed it last night, and it seemed right to return it with something to say thanks.
And sorry for being an asshole.
I walked to her back door, Miller running ahead of me, sitting on her deck and scratching at the door. I knocked and waited until she came to the door, dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, with a smear of paint on her cheek.
She greeted Miller warmly, opening the door wide enough he could squeeze in and rush past her.
She left me outside.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Thorne?”
I held up the plate. “Peace offering?”
She looked at the plate, then at me, the screen between us not hiding her disdain.
“You think you can buy me off with a cinnamon bun?”
“Chelsea buns. Still warm. I asked for extra caramel.”
She pursed her lips.
I held up my carafe. “And coffee.”
Her face changed. “Oh. Well, come in.”
I smiled and opened the door. She took the plate and coffee from me, setting them on the counter.
She turned, crossing her arms over her chest and tilting her head, studying me.
I tried desperately not to notice the way the action pushed up her breasts. Or how short her shorts were.
I cleared my throat. “That was the most delicious pot roast I’ve ever tasted. I was starving, and I literally licked the plate clean.”
“You were hangry.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “Hangry. Exhausted. Not myself.” I drew in a deep breath. “Rude.”
I could see she was wavering. I tried to come up with something else nice. I looked around. “The cupboards look good. Great, even. Perfect color choice.”
She softened even more.
I went past her, looking at the living room.
The one corner held a triangle-shaped desk.
Three monitors filled the walls. Keyboards, blinking things, all sorts of computer gadgets were on the shelves she’d put up.
She’d painted one wall a deeper sage than the kitchen.
The new chair was in the opposite corner, a sunny, comfortable-looking spot for reading or relaxing.
The old sofa had a new slipcover on it. Curtains were hung.
A fresh, thick rug covered the floor. She’d even added some plants.
I turned, looking at her in astonishment. “Have you slept since I’ve been gone?”
She laughed, a real smile on her face. “I’ve been busy.” She paused. “Are you angry over the color?”
I shook my head, not wanting to rock the boat. “No, it’s fine. It looks awesome.”
“I wanted to paint the entranceway, but that armoire is in the way.”
I laughed. “Lou was never able to move it. She just painted around it. It’s been there so long, I think it’s sunk into the floor. I tried to move it once, and it wouldn’t budge.”
“Shame. It’s sort of out of place there.”
I shrugged. It looked fine to me, but I had a feeling I should keep my opinion to myself.
“Sit down. I’ll bring the coffee and buns.”
I sat down, feeling relieved. I spied a few pictures she planned to hang up still leaning against the wall.
A couple more boxes. She came in, carrying a tray, and set it on the corner of the coffee table.
I noticed a bunch of brass bells, whimsical glass beads, and some other things I couldn’t identify, then became distracted as she handed me a steaming cup.
“I am dying to try these buns,” she confessed, eyeing them up eagerly.
“Sandy called them pull-aparts.”
“Then let’s pull them apart!”
I felt like a kid as I ripped off a piece of the warm, gooey dough. It was sweet and dense. Chewy with the caramel. The flavor exploded in my mouth.
“This is heaven,” Casey murmured.
I agreed but remained quiet. We sat, enjoying the sun, my dog and her cat once again curled up on the sofa, soaking up the warmth of the rays streaming in the window. I startled, realizing I was enjoying myself. I didn’t feel I had to talk. To chitchat—something I hated.
And I should have stuck to that. Instead, I tried to be friendly.
I finished my coffee and sweet buns, wiping my fingers. “Quite the setup,” I said, indicating the computers.
“Hopefully a busy one,” she replied.
“What exactly do you do?”
“I offer IT services to companies that don’t have their own.
I set up websites and storefronts. Offer security help.
I ensure that their devices are working properly and that data is secure.
I also install new software, hardware, and provide technical support.
I write code as well, for special projects. ”
“Wow. I have an old computer I rarely use.”
She smiled. “I can’t run into a burning building and save people. We all have our own talents.”
I picked up one of the small bells. “Is this part of your work?”
She laughed. “No, I craft things to relax. I’m working on a set of wind chimes for the front porch.”
I grimaced. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No.”
“I hate wind chimes.”
“Why?”
“They’re annoying as hell.”
“I find them relaxing.”
I shook my head. “New rule. No wind chimes on the porch. I’m not so big on your wreath either, but I’ll let that one pass.”
“There isn’t anything wrong with my wreath,” she snapped.
“It’s rather girly.”
“As I’ve pointed out to you before, I am a girl.”
“It’s unnecessary fluff. I’ll let you keep it, but no wind chimes.”
She stood, once again looking angry. “You can’t keep adding on rules.”
I stood too. “My house. My rules.”
“My apartment. My rent is paid.”
“I said no.”
“You can’t tell me what to do.”
“I can. I’m the landlord. I overrule you.”
Her eyes narrowed, and she stepped closer. Instinctively, I stepped back. She looked really pissed, yet I couldn’t help noticing how the angry flush highlighted her ivory skin. Or how her eyes darkened, making her look sexier than usual. Anger was a good look on Casey.
But I had a feeling now wasn’t the time to tell her that.
“How old are you?” she demanded. “You look well into your forties, but you act like you’re seventy. You’re a curmudgeon.”
“Forties?” I snarled. “I’m thirty-five.”
“Well, you act like an old man.”
“No, I don’t.”
“No music, no drugs, no boyfriends, no wind chimes. What’s next? No lights after ten? No cooking with garlic? No moving around before eight? When do the rules end, Thorne?”
“When I say they do.” I ran a hand through my hair and tried to placate her. “Hang your wind chimes by your desk,” I offered, sounding lame. That was a bad move on my part since that made her angrier.
“I’ll hang them wherever I damn well want.”
“I said no.”
“I said get out.”
I walked to the back door, calling for Miller. He wasn’t happy about coming with me. “We gotta go, buddy. She’s mad again. She might eat you.”
Casey snorted. “Miller’s welcome anytime. I’d never hurt him. You, on the other hand… Never mind—you’re so sour, you’d be uneatable.”
She was furious, yet my lips quirked.
“And call before you show up. I think the law says I get twenty-four-hours’ notice.”
Then she shut the door in my face.
Well, that went sideways fast.
But at least I put my foot down.
No wind chimes.
I sighed as I went into my house. I wasn’t sure how to ask for my carafe back, though. I was a little worried she’d drop some poison into the container.
Dammit.
Lou mentioned keeping an open mind. She should have led with the patience part first.
I wondered if Sandy had something else I could bribe Casey with.
I’d have to figure that out.