“My ex-husband has a habit of coming over here and borrowing stuff without asking. I’m sure there used to be one here, but who knows if it’s here now? Do you have one?”
He did have one. At the moment, he kind of wished he didn’t, because then he could’ve called her a locksmith and been done with it, but she looked so very woe is me sitting there on her knees in his grass with her Wonder Woman T-shirt and baseball hat. His sigh matched hers. He had a metric ton of work to be doing right now, but he couldn’t not help her.
“Yep, I’ll get it.”
He texted his client to say the conference call would have to be postponed and then went into his garage. It was no small task getting the ladder down from the wall, because there were still boxes of stuff and rolls of old carpet in there, but he managed. Gus barked as Ben carried it over to Carli’s yard. She’d hooked his leash to a tree, which the dog seemed none too happy about.
“Maybe the dog ate your rock,” he said, causing her to blush.
“Sorry again about that. Are you sure I can’t pay you to replace the grill?”
“I’m positive. How about you buy me a steak and we’ll call it good.” Her frustration seemed to dissipate in an instant, and her sudden, bright smile made his chest tighten in a way that wasn’t at all helpful to him.
“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that,” she said. “Thanks for being such a good sport.”
He paused for an enjoyable moment, just to tease. “You must be confusing me with someone else. I’m an asshole, remember?”
The pale blush turned crimson. “I apologized for that.”
“Yes, you did, and I accept your apology, so let’s take this ladder and break into your house, okay?”
“Sounds good. How long can you make that thing?” she asked innocently, and he passed on the perfectly good opportunity to make a big-dick joke, because he figured he was still on probation with the neighborhood women. Instead, he extended the ladder to its full length, glad that the task occupied him so she wouldn’t notice how all her adorable blushing was making him fidgety. She seemed wholly unaware as she helped to position it against the house, right beneath her bedroom window.
With the slope of the yard, that window was three stories high, but before he could put a foot on the bottom rung, she said, “How do I get the window open once I’m up there? I mean, the glass window is open, but how do I get the screen out so I can climb inside?”
“I can do it for you,” he said, but she shook her head immediately.
“No, it’s my problem. I can solve it. If you can tell me how to open the screen. Or am I just supposed to cut it with something?”
He swallowed down a chuckle. She was determined, yes, but perhaps lacked a little finesse. “You can use a screwdriver. Just push the top of the screen up and then slide the screwdriver in under the bottom. It should pop right out.”
She took a deep breath, still staring upward. “Okay. Got it.” Then her face fell. “Do you happen to have a screwdriver?”
He smiled. “I do. I’ll be right back.” He had one on his kitchen table, because he’d been using it incessantly over the past few days. When he returned with it, he could see the warring indecision on her face. She did want him to do it, but she wouldn’t ask, and his impression of her adjusted slightly. Maybe because Sophia had been so deliberately helpless when it came to things like this. For as long as he’d known her, she’d never hung a picture, changed a battery, or replaced a light bulb. She’d also never killed a spider, once waking him up from a sound sleep because she’d seen one in the bathroom. Never in a million years would she have climbed this ladder.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to go up there?” he said after she’d taken another deep breath.
“No, thanks. I can do it. Of course I can do it.”
But she couldn’t.
To her credit, she did go all the way to the top of the ladder, but once she got to the window, she couldn’t seem to maneuver the screen out. After a full five minutes of working it over, he heard her mutter, “Fuck this.” Then more loudly, she said, “I’m coming down for some scissors so I can just cut the damn screen.”
He watched her slow descent, trying not to take advantage of the view she was currently presenting. Those shorts were taunting him. Carli From Next Door had long, strong legs, and he could hardly help but notice. She had a round butt, too. He was a real fan of the round butt and the long, strong legs. Especially when they were right at eye level. He finally looked away and cleared his throat. That inconvenient sense of attraction scratched and stung like kitten claws in his gut. Not terribly dangerous, but definitely there. He reminded himself that it was just the circumstances and not anything real. Not anything to worry about, anyway. His emotions had been so worked over during the past few months, he could’ve just as easily found himself attracted to a pockmarked, toothless carnival worker if she smiled at him long enough. That’s all this was. Just nature’s way of letting him know there was a pretty girl in close proximity. Very close proximity.
Carli’s feet hit the ground, and she hung on to the ladder rung for a moment, her face pale and her breath shallow, and he realized—ah, crap—she’d been scared up there. And no wonder. That three-story climb was nothing to take lightly, and only a true chickenshit asshole would send her back up there.
“How about if you give me that screwdriver and let me try,” he said.
She took a short little breath. “No, that’s okay. I’m sure I can do it with scissors. I just have to get some.”
“It might be nice to not have to mend the screen,” he said. “Do you mind if I at least try?”
She wanted him to. That much was clear. What wasn’t clear was why she was so determined to do this on her own. He was able and mostly willing. Maybe it had something to do with his refusal to help with the dog, and he felt a fresh flush of remorse about that. “I really think I can get it,” he added.
Reluctantly, she handed him the screwdriver. “I’m sorry to ask you to do this for me. I can usually manage stuff on my own.”
“I’m sure you can. Maybe this will make up for me not helping with your dog the other night.”
“You weren’t obligated to help me with my dog. He was in your yard, and he had just stolen your dinner.”
“True. So how about I get your window open so I can let you in your house and then you can go to the store and buy me a steak. Sound good?”
She nodded, wiping a few tiny dots of perspiration from her forehead.
He climbed the ladder, going a little faster than he was actually comfortable with, because he was a dude and didn’t want her thinking a three-story climb was enough to rattle him. Thankfully, once at the top, he managed to open the screen without much effort. It popped out within seconds.
“Are you kidding me?” she shouted from the ground. “How was I not able to do that?”
“It’s all in the wrist,” he called back down, now realizing he had to crawl in through the window to let her into her own house. “I’m going in.”
“My house is a mess. Please don’t judge me.”
He laughed at her concern, because unless she had crime-scene photos taped to her bedroom wall, or an actual dead body on the floor, he was sure he’d seen worse. Sophia was a slob, and even though they’d had a weekly housekeeper, the amount of clutter and crap she could accumulate between cleanings was indescribable. He’d started using the guest bathroom a few years ago just so he could have some counter space. There was also Ethan and Addie adding to the general mess, so whatever Carli and her daughters doled out, he could handle.
He turned the screen at an angle and maneuvered it inside, dropping it to the floor of her bedroom, then hoisted himself in behind it. That was no easy task, and he knocked nearly everything from the surface of her nightstand in the process. Once inside, he quickly put the screen back in place and then tried to rearrange her stuff back on the table. First the lamp, then an iPhone charging dock. There was an empty
water bottle, a stack of books, and, finally, a frame. He took a second to look at the photo inside it. There was Carli in the center with a teenage girl on each side of her, obviously her daughters. One had thick, dark hair and long-lashed brown eyes like Carli, and the other was a blue-eyed blonde with dimples. He’d caught glimpses of them at the barbecue. Both dangerously pretty girls. He’d have to keep Ethan on his side of the property line. Ben took an extra second to admire Carli in the photo, too, noticing the curve of her mouth and the way her smile created the tiniest crinkles in the corners of her eyes. Then he set the frame down a little too hard on the surface of the nightstand, because he had no business staring at Carli. That would only lead to trouble. Where was that pockmarked carnival worker when he needed her?
“Thank you so much,” Carli said as Ben greeted her at her own front door. She very nearly hugged him but, all things considered, decided against it. “I owe you big-time. I’m going to find you the thickest, juiciest, most tender steak on the planet. I swear.”
He chuckled and stepped outside. “And I’m going to let you, because climbing through that window was not easy.”
“I believe you.” It hadn’t looked easy. Even climbing up the ladder had been enough to give Carli a case of vertigo. If she’d managed to get the screen out, she wasn’t sure if she’d have had the courage to try to climb through, and a rush of gratitude flooded her senses. Perhaps she’d been a little hasty with her judgment of Ben Chase, because all signs were indicating that maybe he wasn’t such a jerk after all. In fact, he’d seemed like kind of a nice guy the other night at the barbecue. Friendly and forgiving and even a little flirty. Sure, she’d had about five glasses of wine and their conversation wasn’t crystal clear in her mind, but at the very least, he’d been much nicer than he’d been the night her dog stole his dinner. And today he’d literally gone above and beyond to help her out. Like, above the ground and beyond the window frame.
Gus barked, and she turned to watch him roll over onto the grass, his legs up in the air as he gave his back a good scratching. The sun was bright in the sky and it was warm, and she suddenly realized how thirsty he must be after their walk.
“Oh goodness. I need to get him some water. Can I get you anything? A glass of water or some iced tea or something? A beer?”
Ben’s smile was quick, and she mentally acknowledged that the rumors were true. He was very nice-looking, with dark hair just a hint on the long side and eyes so blue they were almost sapphire. He was tall, and although his shoulders were broad, he was a little on the slender side. Not skinny, but not bulky and physically imposing the way Steve was. Just nicely muscled. She’d noticed that when he was carrying that big, heavy ladder. And right before she made a truly unfortunate comment about the size of it that really sounded like she was asking Ben about his penis.
“It’s nine in the morning, so I think I’ll pass on the beer,” he said. “Another time, though. For now, unless you need something else, I think I’ll collect my ladder and head home. I actually have a conference call waiting.”
“Oh yes, of course. I’m sorry to keep you,” Carli said. “How’s the unpacking going, by the way? Is there anything I can help with? Seems like I owe you a favor.”
He walked over to where Gus lay and bent down to scratch the dog’s belly, apparently forgiving his earlier transgressions. Lynette should take a page from Ben’s book. “If I get locked out, I’ll let you know. Word around town is that there’s a key around here someplace, hidden inside a rock.”
His easy teasing sent a tingle through her veins. One she hadn’t felt in far too long. Clearly she needed to get out more. “I’ll get that back to you as soon as I can find it. I think it’s behind one of my lilac bushes on the side of the house.”
“No worries.” He stood up. “I hope the rest of your day is . . . uneventful.”
“Me too. And just so you know, I am working with a dog trainer. Mrs. Stern is supposed to work miracles.” Although the woman was going to bump Carli and Gus up to three sessions a week once she heard about the broken-grill incident.
Ben shook his head, a warm chuckle spilling forth. “Honestly, it’s not that big of a deal. I was just having a really bad day that day and feeling . . . unsociable. Now that I think about it, it was actually kind of funny.”
“Was it?” Really? Was it?
“Sort of. Kind of like how all this is sort of funny.” He gestured to the side of the house where the ladder remained—just as a breeze kicked up, blowing the front door shut.
“No!” Carli gasped, jumping toward the porch to try to catch it before it closed. She wasn’t fast enough, though, and her heart plummeted right to the soles of her cross trainers. She grabbed ahold of the doorknob and gave a twist, but it resisted. Her chin fell to her chest like dread descending.
“You’re not going to tell me that door is still locked, are you?” he asked, his tone suggesting he already knew the answer.
She met his eyes. His really nice, dark blue eyes. “If you don’t turn the little tab thingy, the door stays locked from the outside. It’s okay, though. I can go up and through this time.”
He sighed and cast a glance toward the sky as if hoping divine intervention might rescue him. Then he looked back at her. “No, I got it,” he said, walking dejectedly toward the ladder. “But forget what I said about this being kind of funny.”
Chapter 8
Channel 7 producer Marlow Rees greeted Carli at the front door of the station with a bright, friendly smile. Her bold red lip color perfectly matched her cherry-red dress, and thick eyeliner and shiny black patent-leather Mary Janes completed her retro fashion look. She had bleached-blonde hair that bounced off her shoulders like she was perpetually in a shampoo commercial, and although her style was breezy and almost cartoonish, Marlow knew her job and did it with panache. She’d been with the station for five years, heading up their new program development department, and everyone liked her. Even Jessica Jackson, the news director. And Jessica didn’t seem to like anybody.
“I’m so excited you’re giving this a try,” Marlow said, giving Carli a friendly hug. “I’m super proud of you in a totally nonpatronizing way.”
“Thanks,” Carli said, her voice barely above a whisper, “but I’m nervous as hell, and I don’t want anyone else to know I’m doing this.”
Marlow’s expression dimmed a bit. “That kitty cat may have already sauntered from the bag,” she said. “It’s Sunday, and I had to ask a couple people to let us use the studio for your test tape. Floyd wants to get some still shots of you, but don’t worry. Honest, everyone is rooting for you to do a good job.”
Everyone? Everyone knew she was making an audition tape?
After a bit more prodding from Erin and a long conversation with her daughters about what the change in her schedule might mean to their family unit, Carli had decided to at least apply for the on-air position. She probably wouldn’t get it, because there were certainly more qualified and experienced candidates in the running, but it was worth a shot. Right? At least that’s what she’d told herself in the mirror this morning, but now she was having second, and third, and fourth thoughts about the whole thing.
“When you say everyone, do you mean, you know, like, everyone?” Carli asked, all but stepping backward out the door. Marlow grabbed her arm and pulled her forward and into the lobby.
“You’ll be fine. I promise. Let’s scurry into the dressing room, though, and do a little tweaking. The camera will wash you out, especially when you’re sitting next to Troy. He fell asleep in his tanning bed again, and his face is on fire today.”
“Troy? I’m doing my test tape with Troy?”
Marlow nodded, leading Carli down a narrow hallway as if she’d never been there before.
“Yep, that was Jessica’s idea. She wants to see how you two play off each other, since he’s already got the job as the other cohost. Don’t forget, he’s only got two settings: on-air friendly and off-air inappropriate. But since this is
only a practice tape, he’ll probably be full-on offensive. Just roll with it. You know he’s gross but harmless.”
Troy Buckman was Channel 7’s perpetually gregarious on-air personality, a hometown hero clinging to his past glory days as a Detroit Red Wings hockey player. It was a blink and you missed it career, ended by a knee injury, but he was known locally these days for his work at the station. And for his multiple ex-wives. One of whom was a strip . . . um, an exotic dancer named Tallulah DeFleur.
Marlow nudged Carli into the makeup chair in the tiny dressing room and began to scrutinize her face in much the same way a myopic dermatologist might study a curious growth on someone’s eyelid. It was not a good feeling.
“You’re making me even more nervous. Do I look that bad?”
“No, you look great. You just look . . .”
“Tired?” Carli offered. At least tired was something she could fix.
“Mature.”
“Mature? That’s another word for old, right?” Erin had said she looked thirty-five. Was she just being polite?
Marlow chuckled and dabbed some powder on Carli’s temple. Probably to cover up an age spot. “You don’t look old, but high def is no one’s friend, and when you have tiny wrinkles around your eyes, we have to make sure that makeup doesn’t settle in there and get cakey. It’s fine, though. There are tricks.”
“You’re not really bolstering my confidence right now, Marlow.” Carli’s chest felt like it was filling with cement. This was a mistake. Like worse than a buying-a-huge-dog kind of mistake. She was a receptionist, not an on-air kind of person. “We don’t have to do this. I really don’t want to waste anyone’s time.”
Marlow squeezed her shoulder. “Relax and trust me.”
“Trust you? You just said I looked old.”
Marlow giggled. “I did not call you old, and anyway, Troy is fifty-seven, although he’ll tell you he’s fifty-one. You’ll look like a prom queen next to him, and honestly, all that really matters is your chemistry with him. And that should come naturally, because you already know each other.”
The New Normal Page 7
