With the lawn done, I turn my attention to the small shrubs that dominate the flower beds. Their growth has slowed enough in preparation for winter that only a few sections need trimming. Normally this type of work would calm me. Now, sensing Lucy at my back without a reasonable excuse to face the street frustrates me.
“Are you okay?”
I come close to jumping in surprise at the sound of Finley’s voice being so close.
I look over my shoulder at her. “Huh?”
She crinkles her nose and lifts up her hands, holding them as if she were a zombie. “You’re all hunched over. That’s awful for posture. Doesn’t your back hurt?”
I straighten, unaware I was standing like that. “I had to bend over to reach a spot.”
The face she makes plainly says she doesn’t believe me but she shrugs and walks away.
I chance a glance toward Mr. Olson’s only to find the front porch now empty.
What was I expecting, her to be standing there, cookie in hand as she watched me work?
With a promise to stop this madness, I head to the backyard.
“Lunch not sitting right with you?” Zach asks as soon as he sees me.
I blink. “I feel fine. Why?”
He squints at me. “You’re acting funny.”
“Define funny.”
He crosses his arms over his chest and tips his head in the direction of Mr. Olson’s house. “Some reason you keep looking at the house across the street?”
I had no clue I was being so obvious. “It’s nothing.”
Giving me a once over, he shakes his head. “That red-head is pretty cute.”
When did he even see her?
“Why’d you ask me if lunch was okay?”
He grins. “Knowing the messes you can get into with women, it was wishful thinking that it could be anything else.”
4
Lucy
Holding up what’s left of my cookie, I gaze at it with adoration. Then I shove it into my mouth while deciding to hide the plate from Derek. These are some damn good cookies and if he were better at sharing, I’d allow him to have some.
He’s not, and I answered the door so I’m claiming the rest of them.
I take that back, I’ll save some for Grandpa.
I’m dangerously close to shoving another cookie into my mouth when I hear a knock on the door. If it’s Finley with more cookies I might propose to her.
She’s already married but whatever.
Holding the plate under my arm, I tug open the door and find Gideon Thompson standing there.
He lifts his hands in mock fear. “I came over to see if it were safe to finish the front.”
Pushing open the storm door, I move to join him on the porch. “Very funny.”
He still looks as impossibly handsome as he did the first time I saw him.
I’ve come to learn it might be a family trait. Since moving to Woodlake, I’ve met his brother Noah and his sister Abby. Both of them are also ridiculously attractive.
“I’m not alone this time and need to look out for the safety of my team.”
His words make me look for said team. When my gaze lands on him, a guy waves from where a truck is parked.
I wave back. “I’m only scary before coffee.”
He takes off his sunglasses, two gloriously blue eyes pinning me where I stand. “Good to know.”
He starts to say something else but stops abruptly with a choked out laugh as he points to my shirt. “Taken by the Pterodactyl?”
I should have changed after Finley dropped by. She had a similar reaction to my off the wall t-shirt.
On it, a buxom brunette and a pterodactyl are in a suggestive embrace, the image goes perfectly with the text.
“It was a gift,” I explain, leaving off the part of it being crazy soft and comfortable.
“A gag gift?”
I shift the tin, wanting another cookie now more than ever. “More like a thank you.”
He flashes me a smile photographers dream of. “Do I even want to know what a shirt like that would be a thank you for?”
“It’s a book I narrated and the author sent me a tee as a thank you for a job well done.”
He gives me a slow blink. “I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”
He’s not the first person to have said that. “God’s honest truth. If you look it up online you’ll see this image is the book cover.”
“I’ve read a lot of books, but never one with a dinosaur and a human.”
For some reason, my mind conjures up an image of him sprawled out across a bed, shirtless, reading.
Damn, guys who read are hot. Hot guys who read are panty melting hot.
“They’re pretty popular. This isn’t the only Dino romance I’ve narrated.”
He tips his head to the side. “You narrate books.”
It’s not a question, in fact the way he says it is like an answer to a question I’m not privy to. “I do.”
His next question surprises the shit out of me. “If I search your name online will I find them?”
I almost drop my cookies. “What? Why?”
The grin reappears. “So I can listen to one.”
My eyes bug. “Why would you do that?”
His grin slips as he starts to frown. “It’s not every day I meet a narrator. It’d be cool to check it out.”
This was foreign to me, someone I knew in real life wanting to listen to a book I did. Derek had zero interest in listening to a romance novel, ever. It didn’t matter what sub genre it was besides romance, not that he read at all. Then there were my parents… my dad refused due to the fact he didn’t want to hear my come-hither voice – ever – and I can respect that; my mom prefers much tamer stuff and to feel the book in her hand versus what I do. I have been able to get Grandpa to listen to one audiobook. It wasn’t one of mine, and whether it was the subject matter or the narrator, it put him to sleep. He never tried a second one.
They all thought my little narrating jobs were a hobby until my dad helped me with my taxes. Now, while they don’t want to listen to my books, they finally respect it is a viable income.
An income that is being cut into currently because I’m having to rent studio space. I’ll save a ton once Derek and I find a place to live since I have all of the equipment for my own studio. All packed away in storage unfortunately. I had considered temporarily setting it up in one of Grandpa’s spare rooms, but it’s a pain in the ass to assemble.
All that aside, it blows me away that a man I’ve met twice would, even out of curiosity, listen to one of the audiobooks I worked on.
“I might have a CD copy of one of them, but it might be in storage.”
His grin returns. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure there’s an app I can download where I can buy a copy and listen to it on my phone.”
“Oh, if you set up an account somewhere I can for sure get you a free download code.”
His gaze roams my face. “I’m not looking for a freebie.”
Oh man, did I offend him? “I wasn’t trying to imply you couldn’t afford one.”
My cheeks and the back of my neck redden with each word.
He takes a step back, his eyes warming. Then he puts his sunglasses back on and steps off of the porch. Instantly, I miss the intense blue of his stare.
“We’re good, but I got other yards to hit today so, if it’s cool with you, we’ll knock yours out and hit the road.”
It’s then that Derek gets home from work. The timing sucks for multiple reasons, mainly him being a jerk because he didn’t like any of his new coworkers, and because he already had some bizarre jealous reaction to Gideon from the last time.
There are a host of other small annoyances I’ve heard over and over since we moved here but they seem more of a supporting cast to the headlining stars of his personal drama.
Our eyes lock through the windshield of the cheap used car we bought. The speed at which he looks away is troubling. I can already
tell he’s in a mood. Good or bad, I’ll find out what’s up his butt as soon as he opens his mouth. It’s rare for him to bottle anything up.
Gideon stopped walking when Derek hit the drive. I don’t know yet if it was because he was talking to me that prompted the mood. Without knowing, it’d be weird to shoo him away.
I suppose I’ll share my cookies after all.
Lifting my hand up, I plaster a grin on my face and wave. “Hey honey.”
The wave I get back is limp but at least I got one.
Gideon still hasn’t walked away.
I ignore him and focus on Derek as he moves closer. “How was work?”
“Another day, more stupid shit to deal with.”
That doesn’t sound good but it’s a relief some annoyance at work is what’s got him peeved and nothing I did. “I bet some amazing homemade cookies will help cheer you up.”
He squints. “You baked?”
So what if I’m not a world class chef, there’s no reason he needs to sound shocked. They’re cookies for crying out loud, not some complicated soufflé. Not that I’ve ever attempted to make one.
I motion to the plate I still hold. “Finley across the street made them. I’ve already had two. I was thinking about hiding them so I wouldn’t have to share. Luckily for you, I love you so you can have some.”
Gideon chooses this moment to speak. “We were going to do the front. If the noise will be an issue we can come back later.”
Considering it sounds like Derek had a crappy day, his offer is kind.
Derek shrugs. “I don’t mind.”
Gideon takes another step back. “It was nice seeing you both again.”
I make to wave but am caught off guard when Derek pulls me into his arms and kisses the crap out of me. He’s obviously doing it to mark his territory which is annoying. Even more annoying is I can’t exactly pull away because he’d think I was trying to make him look bad.
Heat hits my cheeks and I wouldn’t be surprised if Gideon told us to get a room.
When Derek breaks our kiss, he has a self-satisfied look on his face. Before he can whip out a tattoo gun and permanently put property of Derek across my forehead, I distract him with cookies.
“Want to try one of these cookies? They’re amazing. Come inside, I’ll put a couple on a plate for you.”
His expression goes cloudy. “How many Thompsons are there?”
I blink. “Huh?”
“It feels like my life is being infested by them. They’re across the street, they’re mowing the lawn, they’re finding us a rental.”
“If you don’t want Abby to help us find a place, I’m sure I could get another real estate agent. It’s just that I thought we all hit it off the other day when Finley brought her over.”
He rolls his eyes. “No, we don’t need to get another agent.”
I usher him inside. “Then what’s the problem?”
He reaches for the plate and is deepthroating a cookie a moment later.
It reminds of that book If You Give a Mouse a Cookie.
I head toward the kitchen to get him a drink.
He follows me. “Work sucked and when I get here I get to see that jackass chatting you up.”
Jackass?
“He wasn’t chatting me up,” I argue.
Opening the fridge, I glance over my shoulder at him. “Want a drink?”
“Sure, a beer if there’s any, and if he wasn’t trying something, what were you talking about?”
Twisting off the cap, I pass him a beer before grabbing one for myself. “He wanted to make sure it was cool to mow now.”
I leave out our discussion of my work and how Gideon had been more interested in a five-minute conversation than Derek had been in our entire relationship. That would only start an argument.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to get someone else to show us rentals?”
“She wasn’t annoying.”
And Noah, Finley, and Gideon were?
I let it go. “Cool, cuz she’s picking us up in a couple hours to show us some places.”
“You sure you don’t want to stay here?”
My mouth falls open. “You want to live with my grandpa?”
He shrugs. “Free rent and food.”
My nose crinkles. “We’re not going to freeload off him.”
Another shrug and he walks out of the kitchen.
I stare after him, wondering if some body snatcher took him over somewhere between Denver and Woodlake. That or the move is not agreeing with him at all.
Hopefully, we’ll find a place that we like tonight. Once we get settled in our own space and get back to some kind of normal, he’ll chill out as well.
Leaning against the counter, I drink my beer. That’s it, he just needs to get settled. After that, we won’t have stupid conversations like the one earlier.
Figuring another cookie would help settle my nerves, I look for the tin, and then groan when I realize he must have taken it with him.
A lawn mower kicks on outside and I decide another cookie is worth braving Derek’s pissy attitude. “Where are you, cookie thief?”
“In here.”
I’m surprised I actually got a response and head toward the guest room we’ve temporarily made our own.
He’s sitting on the bed, his hand out with a cookie as an offering. I close the door behind me and lock it. He watches me. Taking the cookie, I set it on the bedside table and climb onto his lap.
“What’re you doing?”
I press my lips to his and his arms circle my waist. “You seem stressed. I read somewhere sex is a natural stress reliever.”
The set of his jaw softens. “Oh yeah?”
I push my fingers into his hair and lock eyes with him. Good and bad, thick and thin, easy and hard, I do love him. Sure, I want to strangle him from time to time. More often than ever these past few weeks.
Still, he took this leap with me, and moved away from a place he loved to stay with me.
His hands shift to the hem of my shirt. Briefly, as he lifts it over my head I remember Gideon’s reaction to it.
This is exactly not the time to be thinking of the man outside. Banishing him from my thoughts, I escape into the familiar rhythm of our lovemaking.
Afterward, Derek is in a much better mood. It makes me wonder if I’ve unknowingly been withholding affection from him since we came out here. My mind has been so focused on this mental checklist that I could have missed signs along the way.
Vowing to make more of an effort, I snuggle into him and listen as he tells me about his day. While he was able to stay with the company he worked for in Denver, this move wasn’t a promotion. We both incorrectly assumed that since it was lateral he’d be doing pretty much the same thing.
In actuality, some of the responsibilities he used to cover are those of a higher pay grade here. I wish he’d focus on the fact that he didn’t have to take a pay cut and not that his work was scaled back.
Most people would see it as a win. Derek sees it as now having to watch someone else do a job he knows. It’s been driving him crazy to be forced to ask for help when he could solve the problem himself.
“It’ll get better. I’m sure, and you’re still the new kid. Once they’ve seen how amazing you are, they’ll give you more responsibilities.”
His hand strokes my hair. “You’re right, it just sucks waiting.”
I kiss his neck. “You are so right about the waiting sucking. I’m in the same boat. I want to set my studio up. I don’t like their equipment, even if it is newer than mine.”
He kisses the top of my head. “Maybe we’ll find a place we both like today.”
Peeking around him, I check the time. “Speaking of that. I should go get cleaned up before Abby gets here.”
He lets me go.
Thirty minutes later, we’re both changed and ready to go when Abby rings the bell.
Derek opens her front passenger door for me, “You take shotgun.”
&
nbsp; I’m grateful, not only because his mood has lifted but because I finally have an inkling of what was bugging him this whole time.
“I’ve found three rentals that could be a good fit based on what you mentioned you were looking for the last time we spoke.”
The first place we look at is a townhouse style condo. Location wise, it’s in a convenient area of Woodlake in relation to grandpa’s house and Derek’s work.
It’s also in our price range and has space where I could set up my studio. On paper, it’s perfect. In real life, my gut tells me within five minutes that it’s not the place for us.
I look over at Derek and smile when he shakes his head.
Abby catches our exchange and asks, “Should we move onto the next house? I’m sensing this one is a no go.”
I reach for Derek’s hand and give it a squeeze once it slips into mine. “Is that alright?”
Abby grins as she holds open the front door for us. “Of course. It’s all part of the process. I’d have to go play the lottery if a client ever fell in love with the first place I showed them. But, to help me weed out future places that won’t work, what didn’t you like about this house?”
I answer her once we’re all back in her car and on the road. “For me, it was the lack of natural light. I’m not against renting a townhouse but maybe an end unit would work more.”
Derek grips the back of my seat and leans toward us. “The ceilings were also low and there was a musty smell to the place.”
Abby turns into a neighborhood of single-family homes. Some of them are ranch style, but mainly they’re cape cods.
I like the idea of a single-family home more than a townhouse or condo.
The house she pulls up in front of is showing its age. Not only that, the yard is a mess in comparison to the other houses on the block.
“Would we be responsible for the lawn?” Derek asks as he unbuckles his belt.
Abby frowns. “Possibly, I’d need to take a look at the rental agreement to be sure.”
“It might be nicer on the inside.” I say, wishful thinking draped across and curved around each of my words.
My Perfect Fix (The Fix Book 4) Page 4
