Chapter 3 #2
“And I have slippers,” she answered, motioning to her feet and lifting one leg to wiggle her toes.
“Right… What?” I shifted from foot to foot, looking between her purple slippers and the dimples on her cheeks as she failed to suppress a smile.
One side of her mouth lifted, then the other, and I had to fight the instinct to smile back because she looked damned adorable in her tight little shorts and slippers.
“I thought we were pointing out things we have. You apparently have cinnamon rolls—which is rather rude, by the way, to just point those out and not share—while I have slippers. I’d be happy to share the slippers, but the boots you’re wearing are huge, and I’d rather you not destroy these. They’re my favorite pair.”
“Why are you telling me about your slippers?”
The petite thing huffed, put one hand on her hip, and used the other to open the door a fraction wider.
“Because your idea of starting a conversation was to declare that you have cinnamon and sugar all wrapped up in a gooey pastry. Not being partial to your train of thought, mine went in another direction.”
“Summer? Damn it all to hell. I can’t stand without that blasted pillow!” a voice hollered from inside the house, and I jumped at the loud, harsh sounds, watching as Summer closed her eyes and dropped her head to her chest.
“ūnus, duo, trēs,” she said, counting her breaths as she spoke.
The breathing technique was easy enough to pick up on, but the words weren’t right—or at least not in a language I recognized. It sounded a bit like Spanish, and she finished the quiet mantra before I could muck up the strength to form more than a one-word response.
“Well, this has been a fascinating and enlightening conversation, whoever you are with the cinnamon rolls, but there is a pressing matter that needs my attention inside. Toodles.”
The screen door closed with a soft click, and I sighed and turned on my heel before remembering the damn glass container clutched in my hands.
Please be locked.
Just let me get out of here and back to Mom’s to deal with the new puppies.
My thoughts were ignored by some higher power as I wrapped my fingers around the handle and pulled. The screen door opened, and I winced, taking a step inside as the yelling got louder.
“This is rubbish. It has been ten damn days, and I still can’t stand up without wincing. What’s the point of you living here if you don’t help me?” Cam’s angry voice came from farther inside.
I shuffled closer, not wanting to startle them, but not liking how he spoke to the pretty girl in purple.
“I know, Dad, but if you keep pushing yourself, it will only hinder your progress. Perhaps now you’ll consider moving to the downstairs bedroom?”
“Never. I will not be banished from my room by one silly operation.”
Daughter? That would explain the anger. I knew firsthand that you could be cruelest to the ones you loved the most.
“Silly operation? You’re infuriating. You know that, right?
You had your chest cracked open. I am here for you, but I will not stand by if you insist on being so careless.
Do you ever intend to play golf again? Or chess?
Would you like to be able to take a shower without me hovering outside the door? ”
“Fine. Fine. Point taken. Help me to the chair then. And I want a cup of coffee.”
“Decaf.”
“Whatever.”
I scuffed my shoe on the floor between the entrance hall and living room, waiting for the inevitable and not being disappointed when two pairs of similar dark eyes landed on me.
“Hello there, Cinnamon Roll. What’s with you not partaking in normal conversation?”
I smirked, barking one syllable of laughter before placing the dessert on the bar leading to the kitchen. “What’s with you and all the shades of purple?” I motioned to her color-coordinated shorts and top.
“It’s my favorite color.” She shrugged, returning my smirk, and then winced as her father tightened his hand on her arm.
“Let me help.” I all but pushed Summer out of the way, knowing her slight frame was no match for her dad’s larger one. “How are you feeling, Mr. Winston?”
The older man grumbled, shrugging out of my grip twice until Summer gave an audible sigh, and he relaxed into my hold, allowing me to lead him into the living room.
“My mother sent over dessert,” I said, getting Cam settled into the recliner. He grimaced, closing his eyes and pressing his hand to his chest.
“It’s not poisoned, is it, Maverick?”
“Not unless you’re at risk for diabetes, sir. She said you had an operation.”
“Yes, I did, as you can damn well see, Son. It’s a good thing my oldest daughter is finally divorced from her loser of a husband, right? So I’m not stuck in this house all by my lonesome.”
“Really, Dad?” Summer said, standing in front of him with her hands on her hips.
“What? It’s not like the boy is trying to get in your pants.”
“That’s it,” she said, throwing her arms in the air and grabbing a heart-shaped pillow from the couch. She tossed the pillow to her dad and then stomped to the kitchen. “I must be in purgatory. That’s what this is. Some unending nightmare filled with diet food and insults.”
I grabbed the dessert and followed her ranting, listening as Cam turned on the television and muttered about coffee.
“Sorry about letting myself in, but I didn’t want these to go to waste. I’m Maverick Hansen.” I stretched my hand toward her as she turned and crossed her arms. “And I promise nothing about this dish is diet.”
“Good to know, Cinnamon Roll. I’m Summer. Summer Winston. Well, Summer Jordan, but give it another month, and it will be Winston again.”
She shook my offered hand, letting go a millisecond after we touched.
Then she turned to the container, sighing before putting it in the fridge and starting a pot of coffee.
I rubbed the back of my neck, glancing at the high kitchen cabinets as she stood on her tiptoes and opened the cabinet above the coffee maker.
“Fucking biscuits,” she hissed as the knob snapped off and landed on the counter before bouncing onto the floor. I retrieved the knob and handed it to her, but she waved me away, grabbing a dry-erase marker from the counter and scribbling onto the side of the fridge.
“Add it to the list,” she murmured, tossing the marker back where it was and tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“Seems like you have your hands full.”
“It looks like it, doesn’t it? I’d like to think I have complete control.”
“Right. Control.”
“Listen, buster. Don’t swagger over here with your sugary dessert and judge me on the state of this condo. I’m aware that several things need to be fixed and thought now would be a good time to make the entire place more accessible for him.”
“I’m not judging you,” I said, holding my hands out in what I hoped was a placating, non-threatening gesture. “My brothers and I did the same thing next door a few years back at our mom’s place. We wanted to ensure she’d be able to stay there as long as possible, you know?”
“Yeah. That was my idea here as well,” she answered, sounding tired and defeated. Her head dropped to her chest, and her fists clenched before she shook herself and turned to me, desperately trying to make her grimace look like a smile.
“Okay.” I let the word hang in the air, the silence only broken by the television in the next room.
“Well, tell me what you’re thinking? We started by installing thicker railings on the stairs and then lowering the cabinets in the kitchen.
Then we made sure the lights, television, and air conditioning were connected to a smart panel.
After that, I think we did a railing around the porch and back deck.
On top of a closet and bathroom remodel as well. ”
She tilted her head and crossed her arms, leaning against the counter as the scent of dark-roasted coffee filled the space.
“Ah. Let me get my notepad since you know everything.”
She closed her eyes and rubbed her temple, making a strangled noise partway between a groan and a scream.
Shit. The longer I stared at her, the more I saw how exhaustion frayed at her edges.
It was a feeling I’d grown accustomed to—when nights with no sleep bled into days where I lived off nothing but coffee and my temper.
Sure, this little spitfire was made of strong stuff, but everyone had a breaking point, and it looked like she’d about reached hers.
“Wait a tick. I amend my previous statement. You don’t know everything, Cinnamon Roll. You forgot that the upstairs plumbing in my bathroom is on the fritz, but please, go on.”
She mimicked holding a pencil and scribbled into the air as I stepped backward.
“Between upending my life in Hilton Head and moving here, those measly renovations shouldn’t be an issue.
It’s not like I’ve spent every waking moment at the hospital, driving him to appointments, or keeping track of every aspect of his daily life.
I guess I should be glad there are twenty-four hours in a day, right?
That way, I can put in my eight hours of work that actually result in a paycheck between midnight and eight in the morning. ”
“Hey now, you’re taking my words out of context,” I said, gritting my teeth as I took another step back. She followed as if we were entwined in some debauched tango, and I glanced at Cam, not surprised to see him watching us with barely contained amusement.
Glad I could provide your daily dose of comedy.
“No. No. Don’t think anything of it, Cinnamon Roll. Perhaps next you’d like to comment on the unwashed state of my hair or how the dead plants on the back deck will not blossom no matter how much water I use.”
“I think I should leave. It was a pleasure meeting you, Summer.”
“Ha,” Cam called from the living room as I passed him, desperate to get away and lick my wounds in peace. “Next time, you’ll think twice about talking out of turn or assuming things about my little firecracker, won’t you?”
Firecracker? I liked that better than spitfire, and it wasn’t often I gave any woman more than a passing glance. The thought made me smirk until I focused back on Cam and his continued rant.
“The last thing she needs is another guy arguing with her every damn day.”
He smirked before turning serious, a thoughtful look overtaking his features.
“But those renovations aren’t a half-bad idea.
Not that I want people traipsing in and out of my house at all hours.
I’ll foot the bill, and you’ll do the work.
I see you often enough at Bev’s house, so I know you have the time. ”
I contemplated that idea, scratching my chin and taking a moment to glance around the space, already knowing what I would change.
Perhaps I should have kept my mouth closed, but even as that thought flitted across my mind, I knew I had to help, had to take control since Summer was teetering on the edge of insanity, and it wouldn’t take that much to shuffle some things around at work.
There was nothing else I could say to make things better—or worse—so I nodded and continued my trek to the door.
“Great talk. Let’s do it again sometime,” Summer called, leaning against the wall and waving.
I shook my head, not responding, as I opened the screen and slunk back to Mom’s condo.