Chapter 11
JINX
“Wow, you got it done in record time.” Rachel grins from the front porch as Mason and I haul the weed wackers back to my truck. He’s gotten pretty good with the equipment, and we’ve found our rhythm, so we can tackle a yard like theirs in less than a half hour.
Mason buffs his knuckles on his sweaty shoulder. “Yeah, well, when you’re good, you’re good.”
I laugh. “Holy crap, kid. Rein that ego in.”
He grins. “Only if you do.”
“Oh!” Rachel’s eyes go wide as she glances between us. “Do I sense a little ego war? I might have to withhold the cookies and lemonade.”
“I’m just kidding.” Mason climbs the steps and swipes a cookie from the tray she’s holding. “His ego is way bigger than mine.” Then, before she can steal the cookie back, he sprints into the house, claiming he needs to use the bathroom.
“You know, I’m second-guessing the two of you spending so much time together,” she says, her eyes dancing. “You might not be as good for him as I thought.”
Shoving my hands into my pockets, I take the porch steps slowly. “There’s nothing wrong with self-confidence, Sunny.”
“Sunny?” She pulls back with a frown, taking her tray of cookies and drinks with her.
I lean against the railing and survey her. She’s got her hair twisted up in a messy bun, with stray strands falling down her neck and around her face. The summer sun has given her cheeks a soft glow that hides her freckles a little more than I like, but she’s still the prettiest, sexiest woman I’ve ever seen.
“You do this thing,” I tell her, tapping my fingers on the railing behind me. “When you’re mad or thinking. You close your eyes and turn your face up to the sky.”
The furrow in her brow deepens. “Okay…”
“It reminds me of a sunflower turning toward the sun.”
All the confusion on her face turns to surprise. Pleasant surprise. Even as heat creeps up her cheeks.
“Oh. Uh, I didn’t realize…”
I shrug. “I know. But I noticed.” I’ve noticed a lot about her.
She brings the tray back within my reach. “You know a lot about flowers?”
I grab a glass of lemonade and nod. “I kind of have to. I can’t plant flower gardens and shit and not know what I’m doing.”
“Do you enjoy that?” She tilts her head in question. “Planting and gardening?”
I nod. “I do, actually. When I was a kid, I hated it. It seemed like I was always the one that Ma pulled outside with her to pick weeds, but I learned a lot from her. And I was able to apply that knowledge to the business.”
She glances to the space on the other side of the railing, where one would expect to see flower beds. The stones and the edging are there, but it’s nothing but dirt and weeds.
“Don’t judge me,” she says with a sigh. “I haven’t planted these in years. There’s never enough time. And when I have had time, it’s the wrong season. Like now. It’s too late to plant.”
“Not really. We could put some blooming annuals in for the time being and get some perennials started for next year.”
“We?” She tips her head with the sweetest smile on her face.
“Mason and I could do it.” I wasn’t thinking about Mason when I used the term—in fact, the image I conjured was one of the two of us on our hands and knees working up the flower beds. But if she’s not interested in that, Mason will do just fine.
“Hmm.” She carefully situates the tray on the porch railing and closes the distance between us. When her fingers ghost the stubble on my jaw, I grip the glass in my hand a little tighter to keep from touching her, too. “You collected a piece of grass,” she says softly, pulling back with the speck of green between her fingers.
“Hazard of the job.” I grin. “The rest of my face is probably full of dirt.”
She scans my face, her expression soft. Her proximity and the intent with which she’s looking at me has my blood pumping faster. I want to pull her against me and mess her all up. Kiss her until she’s grasping at my sweaty T-shirt and trying to tear it off.
“It’s a little dirty,” she finally replies. Catching her bottom lip between her teeth, she takes the tiniest step closer. “Did you want to go inside to clean up?”
What I want to do is go inside and show her just how dirty I really am. We can clean up after that.
“Nah, I’m good.” Damn, it took everything I had in me to choke those words out. “Just heading home after this.” To shower and enjoy every last bit of the fantasy that’s already started in my head.
Mason comes jogging back outside, shaking his head. “Wow. Something sure has crawled up Emma’s butt.”
Rachel groans and steps back. “Again?”
“She’s trying to wash her blanket, and she did something to the washing machine.”
“Great.” She sighs.
“Mom!” Emma calls from the house, her voice carrying through the screen door. “The washing machine is broken.”
Rachel closes her eyes and tips her head up to the sky in that way I love so much. “I just did it, didn’t I?” she asks, cracking one eye open.
I chuckle. “You did.”
“Did what?” Mason asks, shoving another cookie into his mouth.
“Nothing.” She shoots me a secretive smile, and maybe I’m making too much of it, but that smirk might almost be flirty. “I should go and help her with the laundry. She’s just learning, so if I want her to keep it up, I can’t leave her hanging.”
“I get that. Did you want me to take a look before I go?”
“No, I’m sure it’s nothing. Thank you, though.” She gestures to the cookies. “Do you want to take some home?”
I grab a single cookie for the road and down the rest of the lemonade. “This is good. Thanks for the snack.”
She presses her lips together in another smile that I can’t quite interpret other than to say that it’s different from the ones I’m used to from her.
Emma hollers from the house again, and Rachel and Mason groan in unison.
“I’ll get out of your hair.” I tip my head toward my truck. “Good luck with the washing machine.”
“Thanks.” Rachel sighs. “I’m gonna need it.”
Do laundry or go to Ma’s for Sunday lunch?
I look at the mountain of dirty clothes on my bedroom floor, then at my phone, which Amelia has been blowing up all damn morning, trying to convince me to be social today.
Even Aiden texted to tell me that he’d probably be there. As much as I’d like to give him a little brotherly support (yeah, right), I’m not in the mood today.
I’m freaking tired is what I am. I’ve been going balls to the wall for two straight months now, and today, I just want to crash on the couch, watch TV, and scratch my nuts when I feel like it.
My phone beeps again, the sound instantly causing a wave of guilt to wash over me.
Rachel: Any chance your offer to look at my washing machine still stands?
The guilt turns to enthusiasm in a heartbeat. And suddenly, I’m not so tired.
Me: Of course. It’s still giving you grief?
I grab the only pair of clean jeans I have left and pull them on, followed by a questionable T-shirt and a hoodie. It’s probably too hot, but it’ll cover up any stains on the shirt.
Rachel: Grief is putting it mildly.
Me: You want me to come over right now or…?
Rachel: If you’re not busy, that would be great. I know you’re probably doing the family thing.
Me: Not feeling the family thing today, so you’re doing ME a favor.
Rachel: No! I can’t do that. Forget I asked. Seriously.
Me: Already on my way.
Rachel: Listen, I know how your mother is. That woman can hold a grudge, and I do not want to be on the wrong side of it.
Me: * laughing emoji * She’ll be mad at me, not you, Sunny. See you in a few.
I brush my teeth and put on deodorant, then I’m headed toward the door. I stick my feet into my boots, not bothering to tie them, and grab a drill and my keys before heading out to the truck, where I text Amelia.
Me: Do me a favor and tell Ma I can’t make it over today. Gotta help out a friend.
Amelia: Does this friend have a vagina?
Me: Not that kind of help, Lee.
Amelia: You didn’t actually answer my question, so I’ll assume that’s a yes.
Me: Just tell her, okay?
When I pull into Rachel’s driveway, she’s already standing at the screen door, waiting.
“You really didn’t have to give up your family time for this,” she says with her arms crossed. “I feel bad enough asking you.”
“Why?” I knock my boots off outside before entering the house and then toe them off. “I offered, remember?”
“Yes, but you do landscaping, not appliance repair.” She wrings her hands together and hits me with a worried frown. “I left a message for my dad first, but today is bunco day. I would have asked Tony, but I’m pretty sure the list of things he still has to do around their house is a mile long, and I don’t want to make it worse.”
“Sunny…” I give her shoulder a gentle shake. “Relax. I don’t mind. And I happen to be a jack-of-all-trades.” I hit the button on my cordless drill, making it whirl to life noisily, and waggle my brows.
She huffs and drops her arms. “Okay. But if your mom takes back her offer to help me make cheesecake, I’m totally blaming you.”
I give a small snort. “I heard about that. Ma loves to bake, especially when she can show off. She won’t take her offer back, I promise.”
With a sigh, she leads the way to the laundry room. It’s situated just down the hall from the living room and before what I assume are the bedrooms.
“Where are the kids?” The house is quiet, with the exception of the low hum of jazz music playing in another room. The scent of lemon cleaner is heavy in the air, so I’m going to guess she’s been cleaning.
“They’re with Craig’s parents today,” she says over her shoulder. “Church first and then lunch, shopping, and a movie in Copper Crossing.”
“Ah. So you have the day to yourself.”
She makes a throaty sound. “To clean up after the heathens.”
“C’mon. They can’t be that bad.”
She spins to face me in the doorway of the laundry room, eyes wide and a firm finger between us. “Oh no. There will be no siding with my children on the matter of their cleanliness. I found a half-eaten plate of spaghetti under Mason’s bed this morning, and a bottle of orange Gatorade with something green and suspicious floating in it on Emma’s nightstand.”
I stick my tongue in my cheek. “Just one plate of food?”
She slugs my bicep. “Boys. Ugh! Anyway… the washing machine…” She waves a hand and gives it a glare. “It won’t drain on its own. I took Emma’s blanket out and used a bucket to get out as much water as I could from the washtub. I can’t see anything stuck anywhere.”
“It’s probably a clogged drain pump.” I tug my hoodie over my head and toss it onto the dryer. “Could I use a few towels? This is probably going to get messy.”
“Yeah. Be right back.”
As she hurries out of the room, I get to work removing the panel at the bottom of the machine.
“Whoa,” she gasps when she returns with a stack of towels. “What are you doing down there?”
I chuckle as I remove the first screw. “The drain pump is behind this panel.”
“It is? I thought it was in the back.”
“You’re thinking of the hose.”
“Oh.”
“If you can reach over me, see if you can use a couple of those towels to soak up some of the water in the machine. The more we can remove from the basin, the less that will come out onto the floor.”
“Got it.” She carefully steps one foot over me and toes up to push two towels into the basin.
She’s wearing cropped leggings, but in my head, she’s wearing a dress and giving me an accidental panty peep show.
Quit thinking about her pussy before you get hard, dumbass.
Three minutes later, with all the screws off the front panel, I carefully remove it and set it to the side. “This is the drain pump.” I tap the white unit.
“Ah,” she says from where she’s deposited the wet towels in the laundry sink. “I had no idea.”
“That’s what I’m here for.” I wink up at her from where I’m stretched out on the floor. “More towels?”
Once she’s handed me a few, I position them where I want them. Then I remove the clamps from the hoses and carefully loosen them from the pump. As I do, water spills out, but the towels do their job and neither the floor nor I get too wet.
“I can already see the problem,” I tell her, pointing to the dark shadow in the pump.
“What is it?” She squats down to get a better look, her foot accidentally bumping my leg.
“Guess we’ll see.” I pull the pump off, set it on a towel, then dig a finger into the end and hook the dark fabric.
The black lacy fabric, to be specific.
“Would you look at that.” I crunch to a sitting position with the culprit in hand. Grinning, I unfold the lace and hold it up for her to see. I don’t even care that it’s dripping all over my T-shirt. Not when her face turns the sexiest, most embarrassed shade of red.
“Oh my god!” She takes a swipe at the thong, trying to snatch it from me, but I’m faster. With a chuckle, I hold it out of her reach.
“Hey now. Don’t you know the finders keepers rule? He who fixes the washing machine or dryer gets to keep all the treasures left inside.”
A gasp escapes her. “What?”
“You know… the loose change and shit?” Or in this case, her panties. “I’ve gotta say, I wasn’t expecting this. But I’ll take your wet panties any day.”
Her eyes go wide, and that pretty color creeps down her neck and stains her chest. She opens her mouth a few times, trying for a comeback but coming up empty.
“Cat got your tongue, Sunny?”
“You’re sitting there holding my underwear.”
I take a better look at them. “They’re pretty. Bet they look even better on you.”
Her mouth drops open again, and she scoffs. “You did not just say that.”
“Sure did.” I push to my feet and stride to the washbasin to wring them out. “And I’m not kidding about keeping them, either.”
“Justin Enders.” She marches over and tries to snatch them from me again.
This time I hold them up high. Her chest is flushed and her nostrils flare ever so slightly while her eyes shoot fiery daggers at me.
“Breaking out my real name, huh? Fuck, Sunny. Are you trying to turn me on?”
“Ugh!” She stomps away, and glutton for punishment that I am, I watch her ass as she goes. “Put my washing machine back together!” she hollers from another room.
I chuckle to myself. I hate being told what to do, but when she’s the one doing it? It hits in an entirely different way. A way that makes me glad she’s not in the room to see the bulge in my jeans.
I’ve never dated a mother or a kindergarten teacher before, but Rachel Perry just claimed her throne at the top of my MILF list.
RACHEL
What in the hell is going on?
More to the point, why is Jinx holding my thong hostage?
As if having him sprawled out on my laundry room floor like an appliance-fixing god didn’t already have my heart racing, he had to go and confiscate my panties while shooting me that sexy smirk of his.
What on earth is he going to do with them?
Okay, maybe I don’t want to know that.
Or maybe I do.
Who the heck am I right now?
I blink at the flushed woman staring back at me in the bathroom mirror, like I’m standing on the outside looking in. I don’t recognize her. I don’t recognize the fire in her eyes or the way her nostrils flare with every quickened breath she takes.
I definitely don’t recognize the pulse of desire thrumming between her legs.
My legs.
My body.
Reacting to a man in a way it hasn’t in years.
But not just any man. Jinx. Who is too young and too sweet and too goddamn sexy for his own good.
A light rap sounds on the bathroom door.
“You okay in there, Sunny?” His tone is still all tease. “You didn’t die of embarrassment or anything, did you?”
“No.” I fling the door open and glare at him with narrowed eyes. “It’ll take more than you manhandling my panties to do that. For Pete’s sake, I spend half my time with five-year-olds who talk about farts all day.”
He leans a shoulder against the doorframe, one corner of his mouth kicked up in a grin. “So I’ll need to try harder next time.”
Next time?
“Oh, and don’t worry. When I tell Emma that the broken washing machine wasn’t her fault, I won’t tell her what the real problem was. I don’t think she’ll find that nearly as amusing as I do.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “What’s your angle here?”
“What do you mean?” he asks, even as his gaze drifts down my body like he knows exactly what I’m talking about.
“Are you playing with me just because you can? Because you know how attractive you are?” I tip my head to the side and give him a once-over to show him that two can play this game. “You should know that I’m not that distraught over my husband leaving me that I’ll hop into bed with the first good-looking man who gives me a little attention.”
His brows dart up. “No?”
“You’re cute, okay? And I appreciate all you’ve done for Mason. Emma, too. And the yard work, but—”
“I wasn’t referring to you not being distraught over your marriage, not your interest in sleeping with me.”
I frown. “What? Oh.” That. “It’s complicated.”
“Humor me.”
A zap of annoyance runs through me at the sight of that damn smirk still on his face. “I am not talking to you about my broken marriage.”
He shrugs. “Why not?”
Because five minutes ago, I imagined him lifting me onto my laundry table and making me come with that smart-ass mouth of his. The last thing I want to do is talk about the man who’s never done something like that.
“Because I’m not.” I shove past him and stalk to the kitchen, breathing through my embarrassment. “Is the washing machine put back together?”
“Yes, Mother. I did as I was told,” he calls after me. The next words he utters are quiet, but they sound an awful like “damn, you’re uptight.”
I spin on him, true anger brewing in my stomach now. “You try being a single mom with a household to manage by yourself and kids who are a mess and—”
“Hey…” He holds up his hands and steps closer rather than backing away like I expect. “I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad. In fact, if there’s something more I can do to help…”
I open my mouth, but snap it shut again as guilt swamps me. He’s been so good to me, and here I am, freaking out on him because of my own issues.
“Look…” I press trembling fingers to my forehead. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap.”
“You don’t need to apologize.”
“I do. You came over to help and probably to make me laugh a little and I…”
I like him so much more than I should.
But I’m not even divorced yet.
It doesn’t matter that Craig has already moved on. I’m not that kind of woman, even if a part of me did think, for a few minutes at the bar weeks ago, that revenge was the answer.
But the way I’m starting to feel about Jinx… it isn’t about revenge.
It’s more. Something I’m not sure I’m ready for. And I don’t know what to do with that.
“I don’t want to unload my problems on you.” I swallow hard and wet my lips. “I appreciate the offer, but—”
“Keeping it inside and ignoring it won’t make it go away, Sunny.” His voice is soft now. Soothing.
And damn if emotion doesn’t swell in my throat.
“If you need a friend to unload it all on, I’ll be that for you.”
Except I already want to be more than friends. But I can’t. Not yet.
He closes the distance between us and tips my chin up with rough fingertips. “If you don’t want to talk now, that’s fine. You have my number. You know how to get a hold of me when you’re ready.”
I close my eyes so he can’t see the tears threatening to fall.
He slides his arms around my shoulders and pulls me against him, and the weight that’s been bearing down on me for the past several months—the past several years—lightens. It’s as if, in this simple embrace, he’s already taking part of the load.
And I’m not strong enough to let go.
“Jinx?”
“Yeah?” he asks into my hair.
“Can you stay?”