Three Things I'd Never Do

by Remi Carrington

  Three Things I’d Never Do

  A Romantic Comedy

  Remi Carrington

  Copyright ©2020 Pamela Humphrey

  All Rights Reserved

  Phrey Press

  www.phreypress.com

  www.remicarrington.com

  First Edition

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  .

  ISBN-13: 978-1-947685-26-0

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Epilogue

  A Note to Readers

  Also by Remi Carrington

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  There were three things I said I’d never do—move back in with my parents, let my mother set me up, and date a guy with a dog. But thanks to an unexpected bolt of lightning and my mom’s persistence, I’d already scratched two of those off my list. Technically, the second one I’d only agreed to. I hadn’t actually gone on the blind date. Yet. That special type of fun was scheduled for tomorrow night.

  I could hardly contain my excitement.

  It had been a long summer, and this was only the first week of July.

  When my cute, little, all-to-myself three-bedroom house was struck by lightning in late May, I was forced to move back home. But only temporarily.

  My sanity clung to that one word. Temporarily.

  Understandably, I was eager for the repairs on my house to be finished. But expecting contractors to finish on schedule only set me up for disappointment. That didn’t stop me from going to the house just to check on the progress.

  Because of the pickup parked at an angle in my driveway, I had to park on the street, which gave me time to admire my house as I went to the door. Repairs to the outside made it impossible to tell lightning had targeted my house. “Hello?” The place seemed eerily quiet.

  Derek, my ever-helpful contractor, hadn’t texted back when I mentioned stopping by, but I showed up anyway.

  “Eve?” He poked his head around the corner. “I didn’t know you were coming today.” His chipper greeting worried me. Derek was rarely chipper.

  “I sent you a message.”

  “The repairs are coming along.” That was code for ‘they aren’t done yet.’

  I stepped past him, flashing my sweetest smile. “Oh, I know. I just wanted to take a peek. I’ll stay out of the way.” I headed for the master bedroom, the part of the house still being fixed.

  If the water hadn’t been turned off during the repairs, I’d have moved into the guest room and put up with contractors and workers traipsing through my space. But I couldn’t figure out how to live without water.

  Derek stayed close. “The flooring didn’t come in yesterday as expected. But it should be here Monday.”

  It wasn’t the end of the world, but it meant more time. “How long will it take to install?”

  “A few days. Maybe a week.” He hooked a thumb toward the master bath. “The painter messed up. That’s what I get for hiring my brother-in-law.”

  Bracing for the worst, I ran to the bathroom. “Ugh. The fifties called. They want their bathroom back. Bubblegum pink? It was supposed to be a soothing aqua.”

  Derek ran his fingers through his grey hair. “I’m leaving to buy the right color soon. Painting won’t take long. Then we just have the flooring and the baseboards.”

  “One more week?” Surviving at my parents’ house was a struggle few understood.

  “Probably.” Derek was the king of non-committal.

  Purse on my shoulder, I walked outside before I ranted or cried. Neither would help the situation. “Call me when it’s ready.” I glanced up at the canopy of my massive oak tree. I missed my house.

  “I will. And don’t worry. I fired the painter. I’ll be sleeping on the couch for a week, but I can’t do much about that.”

  “Sorry.” I felt a little bad for Derek, but I did for me too. I’d taken off the afternoon for nothing.

  I sat in the Volkswagen, staring at the house. I just wanted my life to settle back into normal. Before pulling away from the curb, I clicked the name at the top of my favorites. Talking to my best friend always brightened my day. “Hey. I went by the house today.”

  “And?” Haley had heard all about my house troubles.

  “There is no longer a hole in the front of my house, but the flooring was delayed, and they painted the bathroom an awful shade of pink. Besides all that, it looks great.”

  “Sorry. How much longer?”

  “A week maybe. But I’m not sure I’ll survive another week at my parents’ house. I’ve put on ten pounds in two months. Mom offers me every sweet thing imaginable then lectures about how I should take better care of myself so I can attract a man.”

  “My couch is yours whenever you want it.”

  I wasn’t quite ready to give up a queen-size bed for a couch. “Don’t be surprised if I show up this week. Want to grab dinner later?”

  “Sure. What time do you get off work?”

  “I took the afternoon off. I think I’m going to take a calming bubble bath, then I’ll call you.”

  “You still going out tomorrow?” The laughter following her question did not go unnoticed.

  “Don’t remind me. Mom won’t tell me the guy’s name or anything about him except that he’s muy guapo.”

  “How are you supposed to know who you’re meeting?”

  “I’m supposed to walk into the restaurant carrying a yellow rose.” It sounded so much worse when I said the words out loud.

  When Haley finally caught her breath, she cleared her throat. “Seriously? A yellow rose?”

  “We are in Texas after all. I’m sure my mom thought it was a wonderful idea.” “The Yellow Rose of Texas” would probably be stuck on repeat in my head the rest of the day.

  Haley laughed all over again. “I still can’t believe you let your mom set you up.”

  “She wore me down. I got tired of telling her no.”

  “Eve, it’s called threatening.”

  “Yeah, well, to Mom that’s just adding motivation. But it’s only one date. How bad can it be?”

  “Bad enough that you’ll wish you never asked that question. Eek. I gotta go. Dinner sounds good. Call me later.” When it came to friends, Haley was the best of the best.

  The drive to my parents’ house didn’t take long. Traffic hadn’t spooled up yet, and I lived just far enough away that it was inconvenient if they drove over and found no one home but close enough that they’d never need to spend the night. At least that was part of my rationale for buying in that area.

  It wasn’t where I’d grown up. After all the kids had
left the house, Mom and Dad moved out of their small town and bought a house in the city thirty minutes down the road. I loved San Antonio, but I sometimes missed Stadtburg. Living there was its own kind of interesting.

  Tonight would give me a reprieve. My parents were gone for the night, and their quick trip to see their only grandbaby meant I would get to enjoy a quiet house. Out of habit, I parked along the curb and was out of the car before I thought about it. Moving my VW was too much trouble.

  I breathed in the smell of fresh-cut grass. For early July, the weather was surprisingly pleasant. That wasn’t always the case in San Antonio.

  I waved at the neighbor, slightly alarmed at the chainsaw in his hand. What did an eighty-five-year-old man need with a chainsaw? He had kids and grandkids who were better suited for that type—any type—of work.

  “Evening, Mr. Raymond.”

  “Hello, Eve.”

  “What are you doing with that? It looks dangerous.” I stopped long enough to hear his response.

  Mr. Raymond snickered. “Dangerous. You sound like my wife. But you sure don’t look like her.” The man was losing his filter. “I’m going to trim my tree a little. Not hard at all.” He set the chainsaw on the ground and leaned a ladder against the tree.

  Combining ladders and chainsaws seemed even more dangerous than either one by itself, but why bother saying anything? He had no interest in listening to me or his wife.

  “Be careful.” That seemed the polite thing to say.

  My keys jingled as I dropped them on the entry table, and my purse landed on top of them. “Pookie, I’m home.”

  Enjoying freedom, my fuzzy black kitten ran up the hall then slipped on the tile as she tried to stop.

  When my parents were home, the poor kitten had to be confined to my room. What kind of people didn’t like cats? I gave her a good scratch as I carried her to the bedroom. “I’ll fill your food bowl and get you fresh water, then I’m going to take a bath. Please stay out of trouble while I do.”

  She didn’t answer, which probably meant she was ignoring my every word. As soon as food landed in her bowl, she ate, and I turned on the hot water.

  My room wasn’t fancy, but it was comfortable. The bed was draped with a pink comforter—my mom’s favorite color. It was a nicer bed than I’d had growing up. But the same long dresser I’d had in my room all through high school sat against the wall. Some drawers had memories stuffed in them—things of mine that Mom wanted me to keep. The others were empty, but I didn’t use them.

  While the tub filled, I slipped out of my shirt and laid it over my suitcase—not putting stuff in drawers made the stay seem less temporary. Temporary was the word I used to console myself when my parents acted like I was a teen again.

  My other clothes were tossed all over the bed and floor, but cleaning that could wait until after I’d had time to relax in the tub. I wasn’t the neatest person in the world, but no one complained . . . except my mother.

  I walked into the bathroom, and if not for the overflow drain, water might have spilled over the edge. I needed to drain off a little or the floor would be covered in puddles when I slid my not-so-skinny body into the water. While the water drained, I slipped out of my jeans, ran back to the bedroom, and laid them beside my shirt, hoping Pookie wouldn’t nap on them.

  With my hair pinned up in a messy twist and my phone—positioned far away from the tub—playing my favorite playlist, I slid under the bubbles.

  The entire bathroom was painted a bright yellow. I’d never liked that color when I was younger, and I liked it even less now. Yellow was my least favorite color. It didn’t give me a warm and sunny feeling. I’d choose any variation of blue every day of the week, but even gray or beige were better than yellow.

  Of course Mom would choose that color for the rose I had to take on the date. It wasn’t even worth countering with a different idea.

  I closed my eyes, as the warmth and bubbles almost made me forget my problems. Almost.

  Mr. Raymond and his chainsaw could barely be heard over the music.

  Humming along, I sank into the tub. There were few pleasures that compared to a hot bubble bath.

  An eerie creaking sound made me wonder what Pookie was into. Was it worth getting out of the tub? Whatever mess she’d made, I could clean up later. I didn’t even bother opening my eyes.

  A loud crash shook the house, something clawed at my face, and a sharp pain radiated through my leg. Now I didn’t want to open my eyes.

  Pookie was much too small to cause such havoc.

  As I pushed up out of the water, my head hit something hard and large. Why was there a tree branch as wide as my hips in the bathroom? My gut said it had something to do with Mr. Raymond and that stupid chainsaw.

  The branches were too dense to push through. With the tree across the tub and the way the big branches were situated, I couldn’t get out. If I'd been sitting up or even standing beside the tub, I'd be in a world of hurt ... or dead.

  How much of the house was damaged? I couldn’t see enough to know how the rest of the bathroom looked, but considering there was a tree in the bathroom, it couldn’t be good.

  Bits of sunshine cut through the dense canopy of leaves.

  I couldn’t let myself think about how bad things were or about how I could’ve died. Right now, I was alive, but I needed to get out of the tub.

  No helpful ideas popped into my head.

  Forcing myself to breathe in and out slowly, I focused on keeping my face out of the water.

  Sirens sounded in the distance.

  My phone had survived because George Strait was still singing “The Fireman.”

  Connecting those two things, I questioned whether I’d survive the ordeal. The tree hadn’t killed me, but embarrassment might.

  Using my toes, I worked to let only a little water out. I needed the bubbles to keep me covered, but I also liked breathing air.

  Voices echoed in the house. I hoped it was someone to rescue me and not Mr. Raymond.

  “I’m in here! In the bathroom.”

  Footsteps pounded up the hall. “Hello?”

  “I’m stuck in the tub.” I hollered out that tidbit so whoever it was could at least be prepared to find me covered only in bubbles.

  I wasn’t prepared. Hopefully the bubbles lasted a while.

  A fireman poked his head through the door. Well, from my vantage point it was a shadow with a voice, which I assumed belonged to a fireman. “You in here?”

  “Yes, in the tub.”

  Leaves rustled. “Are you hurt?”

  “I don’t think so, but the tree has me barricaded in here.”

  “Were you injured when it fell?”

  I’d already said I wasn’t hurt. Why was he asking if I was injured?

  That reinforced my thoughts from earlier. The damage must’ve been severe, and he was surprised to find someone alive.

  I mentally took inventory. I’d been too panicked to think about what parts of me were in pain. “I don’t know. My leg hurts a bit, but the water hasn’t turned red.”

  His radio squawked. “Female in the tub. Bathroom at the end of the hall.” Leaves rustled again. He must’ve been pushing his way into the room. “My name is Adam. We’ll get you out of here. What’s your name?”

  “Evelyn Taylor, but everyone calls me Eve.” At that moment, I wished my parents had named me Sue or Paula, anything other than Eve.

  He had the courtesy not to ask if I was pulling his leg. “How old are you, Eve?”

  “Twenty-nine. Really. There’s no again.”

  He chuckled, which meant he’d caught my humor. “Was there anyone else in the house?”

  The question sparked horror.

  “Pookie! Where’s Pookie?”

  The cat had never been outside. She wouldn’t know what to do. She might run off. I blinked, trying not to cry. Or had she been crushed?

  “Pookie?” The helpful fireman kept his voice calm. “Is that a dog?”

  The
main thing the tree wiped out—other than the house and my dignity—was my filter. With my mind racing and my mouth spewing, words didn’t slow long enough to run through a filter. “I would never own a dog. Pookie is a kitten, a poor helpless kitten. She’s black and fuzzy.”

  Adam gave sort of a grunt, which made me think he didn’t care for cats. “Once we get you to safety, I’ll see about finding Pookie. I’ll need to cut away the branches so we can get you out, but we don’t want this big branch to shift.”

  “You mean fall on me.”

  “We don’t want that. I’m going to get some tools in here and cut away a few of these branches so you can get out of that tub.” The radio squawked again. “I have a twenty-nine-year-old female trapped in the bathtub by the downed tree. She says that, besides a kitten, she was the only one home.” He’d mentioned my kitten, which elevated him to something just below superhero status. If he got me out of the tub in time for dinner without me dying of embarrassment, he might hit superhero before the night was over.

  “Can you tell me what day it is?”

  “Friday. It’s Friday. I was planning to go to dinner with my friend. Do you think I’ll still be able to go out later?” Why was I asking him stupid questions? For that matter, why was he asking stupid questions?

  “We’ll do our best to make that happen. Can you tell me who the president is?”

  If Haley had asked the question, there were multiple ways I could answer, but I didn’t know this guy, and he was only trying to assess how badly I’d been thumped on the head. “The tree didn’t hit me that hard.”

  He chuckled. “What year is it?”

  “The same year it was yesterday. I hope. Because if that tree was some type of portal and you’re a robot, I’m not going to survive this.” I desperately wanted to see who was talking to me. My hope was that it wasn’t a young, handsome firefighter.