Chapter 21
When I walk in my front door, my eyes immediately seek out the living room and the couch, where Robin is normally either doing her homework or taking her afternoon nap.
But the couch is empty. So is my chair.
I frown.
I don’t know why I frown, but I do.
Maybe it’s the deviation from routine. Having Robin in my house was jarring at first, but I’ve gotten used to her being around. Arriving home to hear her fingers tapping on her keyboard. Tromping downstairs in the morning to find a rinsed-out bowl in the sink and a box of cereal left on the table.
Like a raccoon who knows how to wash dishes snuck in.
Which is why I expected her to be here. Not waiting for me. Of course not. But here, where I can see she’s fine.
No reason she wouldn’t be fine. But still, it’s nice to know.
Feeling off-kilter, I drop my wallet and keys in a bowl by the front door, then head into the kitchen. And there, I find the missing woman.
Or half of her anyway. Because all I see of Robin is from her ribs down, the top half of her tucked in the cabinet under my sink. She’s barefoot and wearing loose sweatpants—her own this time—and there’s a toolbox next to her hip.
“Did something break?” I ask her legs, making sure to speak up on her right side in case she doesn’t have her hearing aid in or is listening to music.
“Hey, Bear!” she calls out. “Just a sec. I’m almost done.”
I lean my hip on the counter beside where she’s working and contemplate the nickname she’s taken to using ever since that shit show of a dinner at my dad’s house. Robin doesn’t use it all the time. Just every so often. It feels like an inside joke. Something for the two of us.
I don’t know why I like that so much. Maybe I shouldn’t.
“Got it. Okay.” She pushes herself out from under the sink and stands, grinning wide, face flushed from exertion. “All done.”
“What’s done?”
“Check it out.” She reaches over to turn the water on, then flicks a switch I didn’t notice, and a loud whirring fills the kitchen until she flips the switch off again.
“Did you install a garbage disposal?”
“Yep.” She wipes her hands on a rag, still smiling wide. “I kept forgetting you don’t have one, and I was shoving scraps down the drain, then fishing them back out. But now, ta-da!” She waves toward the sink. “You’re all set.”
I don’t know what to say.
“You didn’t have to—” I start, but her rolled eyes cut me off.
“Yeah. I know. But it was purely selfish motivations.”
“I could’ve helped.” I never expected Robin to take on home improvement projects when I offered for her to stay here.
She starts collecting her tools, wiping them off before gently placing them back in her box. “It wasn’t that hard. I’ve been fixing plumbing issues since I was eleven.” She throws a grin over her shoulder. “Mom and I lived next to a plumber, and he showed me the basics. I think he wanted to get with Mom, but she was dating this accountant...no, wait...I think that guy was a banker. Whatever. Anyway, when they broke it off, we moved.” She shrugs. “Never saw him again, but now, I know my way around a pipe.” She grimaces. “Ew. That sounded gross. Forget I said it like that.”
I stare at Robin, not sure what to say.
Her eyes narrow. “Please don’t get all macho man on me.”
“Macho man?”
She waves her hand with a sigh. “You know, thinking you need to be the one fixing everything in the house ’cause you’re the man. As if having a penis means you’re better at gripping a wrench. Daren would say that shit sometimes, and it’d make me want to give him a swirly.”
I grunt. “Fix whatever you want.” I lean over to turn on the water and try the garbage disposal myself. The thing practically purrs. “Been meaning to get one. Thank you.”
Robin beams. “You’re welcome.” She glances down at herself, spying wet streaks on her T-shirt. “Gross. I got sink gunk on me.”
In one swift movement, Robin tugs off her shirt, leaving her in the middle of the kitchen, wearing her baggy sweatpants and a sports bra.
I’ve seen women wear far less at Bandit Lake, but for some reason, my mind thinks that Robin is on the cusp of being naked.
And my body enjoys that fact.
“I was going to heat a can of soup up for dinner,” she says while strolling over to the laundry room that’s attached to the kitchen. “Unless you were planning on making something.”
There’s a hopeful note in her voice that would have me smiling if I wasn’t struggling against the real possibility that I might swallow my tongue. I’ve found that while Robin is capable of making food that requires more than simple reheating, she doesn’t have the patience for it. But she’s more than happy to eat my home cooking.
When I can speak again, I answer, “Gonna grill tonight. Cletus Winston gave me some sausage.”
The Winston Brothers Auto Shop is normally on Gwen’s route, but she took the day off, and I covered hers for a change of pace. I don’t know if Gwen was aware the Winstons had put in a large order due to arrive today or if it was just the luck of the draw. After I carried in the fourth massive box, Cletus announced my superb service was worthy of a pound of his award-winning meat.
“Isn’t that, like, wild boar or something? Shelly told me he spear-hunts them, which, honestly, seems like way too much work to me. But, hey, whatever fills the guy’s sausage, am I right?”
She pulls open the freezer, still in only a sports bra, which means I see the goose bumps prickle her skin as the cold air touches her. “I can contribute Tater Tots.” She pulls out a frozen bag.
What I really need is for Robin to contribute a shirt so my eyes stop dropping to the tight little points of her nipples.
Feeling a warning twitch in my groin, I give her a curt nod, then escape toward the back door.
Hopefully, by the time I get the charcoal going, I’ll remember that the woman in my home is my friend and fake girlfriend—not someone to be lusting over.