Chapter Eighteen
Ten days later, Cujo found himself standing outside the gate to Drea’s yard listening to her curse, debating whether being there was a good idea or not. They hadn’t spoken, and had barely seen each other outside of a few moments when their paths had accidentally crossed.
“Come on, you useless sack of…”
Cujo smiled. He’d missed her. Harper had kept him updated. At first, she hadn’t wanted to get in the middle, but he’d worn her down. Well, in all honesty, he’d bribed her with offers of weekly sparring sessions at Frankie’s gym.
When he’d heard Drea’d taken up running with Harper, he’d been secretly thrilled. And when he arrived at the climbing center to find her halfway up the beginner’s wall, he’d watched her for a while before slipping out unseen. He’d given her space, when it hurt him like a gunshot to the chest.
But when Trent called to let him know he’d overheard Drea tell Harper she was putting the house up for sale, flickers of panic had stricken him.
Was she leaving Miami? Where was she going?
He’d assumed he’d be able to win her back when she was ready, but that would be impossible if she was miles away.
So step one of his master plan was reconnecting with her. As a friend. Even though it would be less painful to stick pins through his scrotum.
He juggled the smoothies he’d picked up for them in one hand and pushed the gate open to the yard.
“What the hell, Drea?” He put the drinks down on the ground and ran over to grip the rickety metal stepladder. It was a marvel she hadn’t fallen. Balanced precariously on the top step, she grabbed handfuls of lord knew what from the gutters.
He dodged a clump that landed by his feet.
“Brody,” she gasped. “What are you doing here?” Her hands were clad in bright yellow gloves, the kind made for doing dishes not heavy-duty yard work.
She used her forearm to move hair from her face then climbed down a couple of rungs until they were at eye level.
No matter what she had planned for the day, he wasn’t going to let her do it alone.
He pulled her from the steps and placed her firmly on the ground.
Drea’s mouth twitched. She was fighting a smile. God, he wanted to pull her against him and kiss her firmly. He missed her.
“I’m here to help.” He grabbed their drinks, then handed her the less green one. Half his usual kale order, their compromise. “What’s got you so worked up so early?”
He watched the way her lips pursed around the straw, envious of the suction action it was getting. Fuck, he had sex on the mind.
“I’m selling the house. It’s time to move on. I can’t keep coming back here.”
The dark circles under her eyes were gone, her skin no longer sallow. She looked beautiful and sounded like the confident Drea he’d first met, although this wasn’t an act. This was the real deal, and she was glorious.
“I called Suzi, Raoul’s wife.” She leaned against the ladder.
He could have sworn she deliberately arched her back against it. Eyes front, Matthews. “Who’s that?”
“She’s a real estate agent. The house goes up for sale on Friday.
They’re taking photos tomorrow. But it’s a mess.
I’ve seen enough home-improvement shows to realize I might get more for the place if I fix it up.
I’m doing what I can. I made a list of all the stuff I could do on my budget.
If I get time, I might see if I can paint the living room. ”
“And when were you going to ask me for help, Shortcake?” He put a finger under her chin and forced her to look up.
“Why would I? We aren’t … you know…”
Oh yeah, he was well fucking aware. “Lovers? Friends? Doesn’t mean I don’t care, doesn’t mean I can’t help.”
Drea stepped out of reach. “You have enough going on with your mom. How is she by the way?”
He allowed the digression. “There’s no real progress, but her injuries are healing, so she might be able to transfer into a rehabilitation place soon.”
“That’s good. How are you, Brody?”
He rubbed his hand along the side of his head, noting when her eyes locked on the tattoo on his bicep. Perhaps it was fighting dirty, but he flexed his arm anyway. “I’d be better if you’d asked me to help you.”
“I guess I’m not used to having help,” she mumbled.
“Sorry,” he said, and stepped up until inches separated their bodies, bodies that knew each other intimately and responded instinctively. “What was that? I didn’t quite catch it.”
Drea batted his hand away, the corners of her lips turning up into a smile. The heat was still there, and she felt it as strongly as he did, he could tell. “I said you’re a grade-A asshole.”
“Yeah, well, I’m your grade-A asshole.” He winced at his accidental use of your. “I have a truck to transport garbage, I can lift heavy things, I even have some room on my credit card I’d be willing to use to help you get what you need to tidy the place up.”
“No, I still owe you for my car. I’m not ta—”
“Yes, you are. I’ll keep receipts if you like. You can pay me back if it makes you feel better. I accept cash, all major credit cards, and blow jobs. I like the way you keep sucking on that straw, Shortcake.”
“Stop.” She slapped his stomach and giggled. “You can’t say that to me.”
“Yeah. I can. Because there’s not much I wouldn’t do to make you laugh.”
“Thank you, Brody.”
“You’re welcome. Wednesday’s are quiet. Let me go break it to Trent I won’t be in today.”
They went through the house, room by room, and made a list of what they would need. Cujo placed a call to Trent, then put the phone on the counter. She was sitting on one of the stools finishing her smoothie.
“Did you eat breakfast yet?”
Drea shook her head. “Just wanted to get started.”
“Well, I need food. You got any eggs?” Cujo opened the refrigerator. Perfect. He pulled out a few other ingredients he could throw in, some tomatoes and cheese. “Bread?”
Drea pointed to the cupboard behind him.
The omelets and toast were made and eaten quickly. Drea had put on a pot of coffee earlier, and the combination of food and caffeine were having a positive effect on her frame of mind.
“Why didn’t you talk to me?” It bothered him that all this had been going on in her head, and she hadn’t said a word.
“I don’t know. After that night with your mom, and Henderson’s room, and then talking to you, I came home and slept for eighteen hours.”
Yeah. Fucking Carter. “I saw you. I was coming to the café to talk you out of breaking up, and then I saw you with Carter.”
“I know you did. But it was all coincidence. He came to get a statement about identifying your mom, and I happened to be leaving José’s, so he drove me home.”
The tension eased a little at the admission.
“So why are you selling?”
“The mortgage payments are awful. I’m paying a lot of money for somewhere I don’t want to be. If I move into a studio apartment, I’ll be much better off each month.”
Was he ready to offer up the next step? Yeah. He was. Was she ready to take it? “If you get stuck, you can always move in with me.”
He put his arm around her, ready for the rejection, but Drea rested her head on his shoulder and sighed. “I’m not sure that’s smart, and I really do want to try being on my own, but it would be a great if I get stuck.”
It made sense. She did need to experience freedom. But he’d encourage her to rent somewhere close, to get a bed big enough for him to sleep in, and to host regular sleepovers. Once he’d convinced her to give them another chance. Obviously.
Someone knocked on the door, and Drea jumped. Cujo looked at his phone, the timing was perfect.
“Heard you needed some help.” Trent walked into the kitchen carrying a tray of pastries. “Harper sent these over for the workers, said she’ll come straight over after work.”
Lia carried in a couple of cans of paint. “I’m going to need to borrow some sweats,” she said looking down at the tight pencil skirt she was wearing. “It’s been too long since I saw you.” She hugged Drea tightly.
Pixie bounced in carrying plastic bags with a local hardware store logo on them. “This is so much better than being stuck in the studio all day.”
“You closed the studio?” Drea asked.
Pixie put the bags down on the floor. “Technically no, because we hadn’t even opened yet.”
Dred walked in and dropped some giant plastic sheets on the dining room floor. “Hey, Drea, thanks for giving me somewhere to go outside of my hotel room,” he said, hugging her.
“I had no idea you were in town,” she choked out.
“Yeah, well, needed a change of scenery.”
Cujo caught the way he looked toward Pix as he said it. Bastard.
Someone else knocked at the door.
“Brody, son, come give me a hand with the tools from the truck.”
Cujo started to follow his dad outside, but Trent slapped him on the shoulder, “Looks like your girl needs you more than your old man. I’ll deal with the tools.”
Drea was still standing by the open door. “Did you do this?”
“If I say yes, will you let me keep my only working testicle or are you going to kick me in it?”
“You are a good man, Brody Matthews.”
He rubbed his thumb over the seam of her lips, lowered his head, and kissed her quickly. For a moment, he pretended there wasn’t a houseful of people around them. That it was just the two of them.
Still together.
* * *
The house no longer looked the same. Ten hours of hard work by her friends revealed a nice family home.
“Not sure my knees will forgive me,” Lia said moving the cushion she was using to kneel on a few inches further along the floor. She dipped her brush into the white paint and continued along the baseboards.
Drea popped a can of diet cola on the floor next to her. “It looks so shiny and new.”
Pixie was rolling the walls in warm beige, Cujo’s dad cutting in ahead of her. She walked out the front door, which was wide open as it had been all day since Eric had painted it a deep red first thing that morning.