3. Cale #2
“Thank you,” she tells me quietly. “For Lanie. I’ve been worried about her. She’s not—” My sister swallows hard, crossing her arms over her chest. “She’s not making friends as easily as I thought she would, and with Wyatt not coming out to see her—”
“He’s an asshole,” I grumble.
“You know that, and I know that. Lanie doesn’t.
The kid loves him and thinks he can do no wrong, and when he promised to show up…
” Jaz’s eyes go bright in the overhead light, and panic swirls in my chest. I don’t do tears, even from her.
But she doesn’t let a single one fall, her mouth flattening into a thin line.
“It feels like it was the final promise for her. Now she’s just…
I don’t know how to fix it for her, Cale.
I’m her mom. I’m supposed to fix everything. ”
“This is just for now. Lanie will adjust. She’s a good kid, and it’s not thanks to Wyatt the Fuckface.”
She snorts, immediately smashing a hand over her face to try to muffle the sound. “You shouldn’t call him that,” she says between her fingers.
“Why?” I counter. “It’s the goddamn truth. If anyone needs a legal name change, it’s him.”
Jaz gets this blank look on her face, staring at me for so long without blinking that I start to think she’s been possessed by aliens or abducted by demons. Just as I’m about to shake her, she smiles, and a shiver races down my spine. “I’ve missed you.”
I stumble back a step, getting off the porch real quick. “Don’t know what you’re planning, but keep your hands where I can see them.”
“Oh my god,” she complains, throwing her hands up. “You’re so damn dramatic. Get gone, would you?”
She doesn’t need to ask twice, and by the time I reach my truck, Jaz has disappeared back inside, the door shut firmly behind her.
I follow Garth across town to our local drinking hole, Benson’s, parking my truck next to his behind the building. Inside, we find our friends, Paulie and Jordan, already sitting at a table and at least one round deep.
Paulie looks up as we approach, his smile wide and goading. “Better late than never. Where the hell have you two been?”
“Family dinner,” I tell him, spinning a chair around and sitting on it backward, resting my arms against the back. “Mom insisted I drag him along.” I tip my head toward Garth as he sits down beside me. “What’s the good news?”
“Pitbulls won the semifinal,” Jordan says, naming our local college baseball team. “Better news is that the next round is on you.”
I laugh good-naturedly as Randi, one of the servers, saunters up to the table, her hips swaying under a little black apron and painted on jeans. She smiles at me, eyes heavy with invitation, dark red hair swaying against her shoulders.
“You hear the summons, Rand?”
She cocks a hip out. “I saw the two of you come in and knew you’d be looking to wet the whistle. Another round of beers?”
“Please and thank you.” I wink at her.
Randi turns on her heel just as Garth calls out, “And a couple of waters.” She lifts a hand to show she heard him as she walks away. I track her, eyes fastened to her ass, until she disappears behind the bar.
Jordan throws back the last of his beer, slamming it down on the table. “You gonna tap that again?” he asks eagerly. “She’s fuckin’ fine as hell.”
“Jordan”—Garth’s voice takes on a lecturing note—“just because you can be a pig, doesn’t mean you should be.”
His face falls. “I wasn’t tryna be,” he protests. “Just, if Cale won’t take her up on the offer, she might finally look my way.” He gives us a sloppy smile as we groan, and Paulie shoves an elbow into his gut.
“She wouldn’t touch you if you paid her,” he jeers, making Jordan scowl.
The two of them start bickering like old hens as Garth turns to me. “I’m gonna start on the bathroom next week. Already called the plumber I work with, and he’s doing me a deal.”
I give him an even look. “Why’re you telling me?”
He shrugs. “Thought you’d like to know, if you’re footing the bill.” His eyebrows climb his forehead, navy eyes all too knowing. “Melanie asked about a payment plan. Nasty business, what that ex of hers did.”
I still right as Randi reappears, setting our fresh beers and water down, clearing away the empties.
“Anything else, boys?” she purrs, her voice hot enough to melt ice, but my focus has shifted to my neighbor.
“Nah. Thanks,” Paulie chirps. “Give us another fifteen, and we’ll get some burgers.”
She gives me one last look before shrugging. “Alright, then.”
I wait until she leaves, moving away to help someone else, and then lean closer to my best friend.
“You know what he did?” I’m not usually out of the loop, but I’ve made a conscious effort not to pay too much attention to the family next door. That plan is backfiring on me now.
“It’s a small town, Cale.” Garth chuckles, picking up his beer.
He’s not wrong, but the reminder fills me with annoyance, wondering if people are talking about my sister the same way they seem to be talking about Melanie Daniels.
“One of my workers went to buy a car last week, and apparently, he was making quite a show of himself with Marcy Gordon.”
My jaw works. “I knew Marcy and Landon broke up.” Only because she was my boss’s sister-in-law, making the drama almost impossible to miss. “Didn’t know it was because of him, though.”
“But you’re not interested in Melanie.”
I don’t like his tone, but I point out reasonably, “She’s not my type.
” Garth rolls his eyes, and I look away, my mouth pinching tight.
“She’s my neighbor, and that’s it. I don’t do relationships or kids.
I’m just doing a nice thing, saving her from herself.
She was planning on watching YouTube videos to fix her leak. ”
Garth’s expression is dubious, but everyone has jumped onto the wrong idea about me and Melanie.
Oakley’s a good kid, always trying to come over and help when I’m out doing yard work.
That doesn’t mean I’m suddenly itching to play happy families.
The chemistry between Melanie and me might be enough to set the air smoking, but I’m not a picket fence guy, and that is not about to change.
I pick up my beer, draining half of it in one go, ignoring Garth and focusing in on the shit talk happening between Jordan and Paulie.
Good company, good beer.
I don’t need anything else.
Movement catches my eye across the bar, and I look over just as Randi bends over the bar, chatting to the bartender on duty, her jeans pulling taut over her ass.
Well, maybe one other thing.
Saturday morning dawns with clear skies, even after the forecast warned of rain coming midafternoon.
I stand out on my back deck, eyeballing the length of the grass as I drink my first coffee of the day.
I didn’t do it before I went away on my last job—consulting on a firm’s security system in Denver—which makes it about three weeks now since I last did any yard work.
An hour later and a second coffee down, I’m pulling the mower out of the garden shed when I hear a voice pipe up. “You mowing?”
“Nah.” I grunt. “I figure I’d use this to vacuum the house.
” I turn around to look at the fence separating my property from Melanie’s, finding a mop of dark hair and hopeful gray eyes peering over the top at me.
“Isn’t it a little early for you to be outside?
” It’s a genuine question. My only experience with kids is Lanie, and I wasn’t exactly around much when she was younger.
Not with her and Jaz living so far away and me doing four tours.
“I had breakfast.” Oakley immediately goes on the defensive, the sound of his shoes scrabbling against the lower half of the fence as he pulls himself up.
“I’m dressed and everything.” His face is scrunched up into the grumpiest expression I’ve ever seen.
He could probably give Old Man Myers a run for his money, and that grizzled goat is as mean as they come.
Something in his tone has my suspicions rousing. “Does your mom know where you are?”
“I’m at home.” He gives me a look like I’m the dumbest guy he’s ever had the pleasure of meeting. I lift a hand, rubbing my thumb over my lip to smother the smile tugging at my mouth, not wanting to piss him off more.
“I know,” I say patiently. “Does your mom know you’re outside?”
One shoulder lifts, his attention shifting to the mower. “So, can I help?”
I hesitate, unsure about the protocol here and whether that would be crossing a line with Melanie. We aren’t exactly on spending time with her kid terms. But as Oakley stares at me, an edging of pleading creeping into his eyes, I know I can’t say no.
“Okay.” I dip my chin. “But you gotta go back if your mom tells you to.”
He lets out a quiet “whoop”—so quiet it has me narrowing my eyes.
But then he’s scaling the wooden fence at supersonic speed.
I suck in a startled breath as Oakley reaches the top, barely steadying himself before jumping, only releasing the air when he lands with a thud, arms out to stabilize the wobble he’s got going on.
He jogs to my side as I demand, “You a reincarnated chimpanzee or something?”
“What does re-cari-nated mean?” he asks, eyes shifting between me and the mower. He doesn’t wait for an answer before he’s saying, “And I’m more of a leopard. Did you know they carry dead animals into trees?” He gets this constipated little frown on his face. “I could do that…if I wanted to.”
I take a slight step back, asking warily, “You could, uh, carry a dead animal…into a tree?”
Oakley gives me a disinterested stare. “If I wanted to,” he repeats.
Deciding it’s in my best interest to change the subject—and quickly—I say, “Alright, Killer. You ever mowed grass before?”
“No.” His shoulders hunch up near his ears, his voice so low I almost miss the words. “We used to have people come by to do it. Dad said he never had the time.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Mom does it now. She hates it.”
“Did she tell you that?”
“I can just tell.” He shakes his head. “If I learn how, then she won’t have to anymore.”