My attraction to her would have to stay my dirty little secret, because I wouldn’t be laying a hand on her.
She licked her lips. “So…Eric thinks something’s going on between us.”
“Oh yeah?”
“And I sort of…let him believe it.”
“Good. Serves him right.”
“I was hoping you’d be okay with that.”
“Fuck yes, I am. If I’d known what he’d done to you when I met him that night at your house, I would have played it up, made him feel like the little shit he is.”
“I appreciate that you would do that for me.”
My feelings for Heather were complicated, but more than anything, I felt protective of her. I would do anything to make the prick who’d cheated on her jealous.
We stayed on the porch talking for a couple more hours.
After she left, I lay in my bed, staring out at the moon as my mind raced.
It felt like I had a mission, and I was running out of time. I needed to help her get out of this place. I could only do so much while I was in New Hampshire, but I needed a plan. I would fix as much around here as possible so she could put the property on the market. Maybe she could get her mother into some kind of retirement community where people could help look after her. Getting Alice into a different situation was gonna be the toughest part. But if that could happen somehow, then Heather could go to college and follow her dreams.
CHAPTER SEVEN
* * *
HEATHER
About a year ago, I’d decided I really needed to talk to a professional. Remote therapy seemed like a good option since there weren’t a ton of qualified therapists near me who took my insurance. I’d found a woman based out of New York who did.
In the beginning, we’d talked a lot about how Opal’s suicide and my mother’s depression were impacting me, but as of late, we were focused on my general well-being.
Dr. Vaughan popped up on the screen. “Hi, Heather. Can you hear and see me okay?”
“Yes. Crystal clear.”
“Good. How have you been?”
“Pretty good, actually.”
“Okay. Great.” She looked down at her notes. “Let’s see…the last time we spoke, you told me about a man who’d moved onto your property. It was nice to hear you excited about something. How are things going with that situation?”
When we’d spoken a month ago, Noah had just moved in. I’d described my attraction to him and admitted I was holding out hope that something might happen between us over the course of the summer. Things had changed.
“Well, unfortunately, my excitement was a bit premature. Noah has turned out to be a great friend and a huge help around the property, but he made it clear he’s not interested in me romantically or sexually.”
She took some notes, then asked, “How did he explain that to you exactly?”
“I…sort of took a chance and made an advance toward him one night, let him know I was attracted to him.”
“That was very brave.”
“Yeah, well, he was quick to explain that he doesn’t see it happening. He thinks, among other things, that he’s too old for me, even though I don’t think thirty-four is too old at all.”
“How do you feel about his rejection?”
“I’ve learned to accept it. Like I said, we’ve become friends. I’m still attracted to him and wish things were different, but it is what it is. I can’t force him to want me that way.”
“You seem to be taking it as well as could be expected.”
“I don’t have a choice. I still really like being around him. He’s listened to me vent about a lot of stuff and is very encouraging. He wants me to find a way to go to college, and he’s been fixing things around the property to help us get it into a condition where we can put it on the market.”
“What are your mother’s thoughts on that—potentially moving?”
“She doesn’t want to sell, but she agrees we probably have to. Since the house is paid off, we could buy something smaller and use the money for the future. The fact that the property comes with the boathouse for rental income is a huge selling point. I’m hoping we can get a good deal for it.”
“How does your mother feel about Noah helping out?”
“Well, she was very suspect of his intentions at first, but she’s calmed down about that—especially after she got a look at the freshly painted boathouse.” I chuckled. “He’s started fixing things on the main property now—installed a new hot water heater, replaced a couple of windows, things like that. He’s really a jack of all trades, used to work in construction. Mom still stays in her room most of the day, but she’s come out once or twice to say hello to him, and she even apologized for being rude to him early on.”
“It sounds like Noah’s being there has turned out to be a really great thing.”
“Yeah. Almost like he was sent from above.”
My feelings for Noah had only grown over the past couple of weeks. I felt so safe with him around. We’d hung out a lot, talked a lot. The front porch of the boathouse had become our place. I’d watch him smoke his one cigar—never two—and we’d sit and talk about anything and everything, sometimes until the wee hours of the morning. Things had stayed platonic, and I was more convinced than ever about that not changing. But it still hurt a little. I wanted him more each day and couldn’t imagine how I was going to feel after he left. I knew for sure he was someone I would never forget.
After I got off the phone with Dr. Vaughan, I opened my journal as I often did after clearing my head in therapy. While I typically wrote down my thoughts and feelings, today my head was in a totally different space. Maybe it was all that talk about Noah not wanting me, but all I could seem to focus on was how much I wanted him and ridding myself of some of this pent-up frustration. If I couldn’t actually have him, I would let it all out on the pages of my journal. No holds barred, I wrote out my greatest sexual fantasy, including all the things I wished he would do to me.
***
Noah: It’s 10PM. Do you know where your dog is?
That’s a strange question.
Heather: Downstairs. I think?
Noah: Pretty sure that’s not the case, considering I can’t get him off my bed right now.
Oh my God. What?
Heather: Really? That’s scary! How did he get out?
Noah: Well, I’d ask him but…
Heather: How long has he been there?
Noah: He showed up at my door fifteen minutes ago.
Heather: Be right there.
As terrifying as it was that Teddy had escaped, given his destination, I couldn’t help but laugh as I ran to the boathouse.
Noah opened the door before I had a chance to knock. Just as he’d said, Teddy had completely taken over the bed. He looked so comfortable.
“I’m sorry about this.”
Noah shrugged. “I don’t mind.”
“He must have remembered the time I brought him here when you first moved in. He knew exactly where to find you.”
“He was sitting on the porch when I went out to have a cigar—like he was waiting for me.”
“That’s so cute. I’m glad he had the good sense to come here and not run away.” I patted my thighs. “Come on, Teddy. Let’s go.”
“He can stay.” Noah took a sip of his wine. There was an open bottle on the counter. I wished I could join him, but I knew how he felt about offering me alcohol.
“I figured you wanted me to come get him.”
He waved his hand. “Nah. He’s fine.”
“Well, he doesn’t exactly look ready to go anyway, I suppose.”
I looked around, then removed my shoes. It was strange to be inside the boathouse with Noah for once. I could thank Teddy for this opportunity. I hopped up on the bed and rubbed my dog while Noah took a seat across from us and kicked his legs up on the foot of the bed. With his big feet facing me, I was tempted to press the bottoms of mine against his.
But I refr
ained, of course.
Teddy was the perfect buffer to keep my hanging out on the bed from being awkward. The scent of Noah emanating from his sheets surrounded me. Teddy definitely had the right idea.
Noah looked particularly hot tonight. He wore these gray sweatpants that hugged his crotch in a way that left little to the imagination. It was hard not to gawk at his amazing body.
Don’t look down. He’s going to catch you.
If not me…what was Noah’s type? I often wondered about the woman he’d been married to.
“Do you have any photos of your ex-wife?”
He squinted. “Random much? Where did that come from?”
“Do you expect anything less from me? I laughed. “It just came to mind. I’ve always been curious as to what she looks like.”
“Yeah. Hang on.”
Noah pulled out his phone and scrolled through his photos. My heart sped up in anticipation. He handed it to me.
His ex had dark hair and dark eyes. She looked Greek or Italian. It came as no shock that she was absolutely gorgeous. Her Mediterranean features were the total opposite of my Scandinavian looks.
“Wow. I’m not sure you ever told me her name.”
“Olivia.”
Olivia.
Though I knew they weren’t together anymore, I still envied her. She’d gotten to make love to him and experience everything with him, even if it wasn’t forever.
“She’s really pretty, but I didn’t expect anything less.” I handed him back the phone.
“She’s a good person, too.”
He looked a little down.
“Do you feel like you failed her?” I asked.
“For a while I did feel like my marriage was my biggest failure. But she’s happy now, so that’s all that matters. The idea of failure is subjective. Our marriage failed, but she ended up with something better in the end. So it was hardly a failure for her.”
It made me sad that he felt that way. “Why do you sell yourself short?”
“I told you before…I wasn’t a good husband.”
“Yeah, but you’ve learned from your mistakes. Maybe she’s missing out on the person you are now, and that might have been better than what she has with the other guy. You’re older and wiser.”
“Definitely older. I don’t know about wiser.” He chuckled. After some silence, he asked, “So, what about you…? What do you consider your biggest failure?”
“I’m pretty sure I’ve yet to have it, but I bet it’ll be a doozy.”
“I can’t wait to find out what it is, for you to get it over with. I expect a phone call when it happens.”
The thought of calling him sometime in the future kind of bummed me out, knowing he would be far away. I wondered if we would even keep in touch.
“I can definitely do that. By then, you’ll be like…‘Wait, Heather who?’”
He pretended to be holding a phone to his ear and talking to me in the future. “Oh…that crazy blond chick from New Hampshire? Yeah, yeah, yeah. I remember you. How the hell are ya?”
I held my hand up to my ear. “Yup, that’s me! The loony one who dances in the lake and pretends to be getting ready to jump off the roof while listening to Hanson. That one.”
“Yeah. The one who made me smile.” He looked over at me. “That one.”
***
An hour or so later, Teddy was finally ready to go. I went down to the basement to do laundry when I got home and noticed a full load of Noah’s clothes still in the dryer. He must have put them in this afternoon and forgotten to come get them.
It wasn’t often that I had the opportunity to do something for him, so I was happy to be able to fold his wash. I fluffed the load for a few minutes before taking it out.
Smelling each warm article of clothing, I closely examined them all. His shirts were size large. His boxer briefs were a mixture of Calvin Klein and Armani Exchange. I’d always found folding laundry to be relaxing, but folding the clothes of the man I was obsessed with was particularly enjoyable.
I was so turned on tonight. My body was in a constant state of alert whenever I was around Noah, and the feeling typically lasted long after I’d left him. Handling his clothing like this only made it worse.
After everything was neatly placed in the basket, I started to walk out of the laundry area. Then I stopped and turned back around.
Feeling impulsive, I reached under my skirt and pulled my black lace panties down my legs. Holding them in my hands, I paused, wondering if this was a good idea. Who was I kidding? I knew it was a very bad idea. After all, I’d vowed not to make any more advances toward him. This would be crossing the line.
But I wanted to mess with him, wanted to push boundaries and have some fun again. I’d been really good. Technically, this wouldn’t be anything like a proposition. I could pretend I’d been folding my clothes and accidentally mixed up the piles—if he ever called me out on it, that is.
I folded the panties and tucked them in the middle of his laundry, running out before I could change my mind.
CHAPTER EIGHT
* * *
NOAH
I’d started doing some landscaping work around the property, and Heather would often come outside during the day to help pull weeds or throw down mulch. We’d joke around and bust each other’s balls while working together. These were my favorite days.
One such afternoon, Heather was particularly chatty while we worked.
“Did I ever tell you the story of how I got my name?” she asked.
“No, I don’t think so.”
“I was named after an actress.”
“Locklear?”
“No. You know the horror movie Poltergeist?”
“Yeah.”
“The little girl who played Carol Ann—her name in real life was Heather O’Rourke. She died at the age of twelve. Anyway, my mom loved that film, so she named me after her.”
“Wow. That’s pretty cool and creepy at the same time.”
“Yeah, especially since I looked a lot like her when I was little—with my light blond hair and the bangs I used to have. When I was younger, I was totally obsessed with that movie. I liked to pretend I was her. I would turn the TV to a snowy channel, put my palms on the screen, and play Poltergeist. To this day, I love horror movies. It’s one way I take after my mother.”
“Well, if I didn’t think you were strange already, that pretty much seals the deal,” I teased.
“Do you have any strange habits, Noah?”
“Nothing comes to mind.”
“You want to know something else I do that’s strange?”
“I think you’re gonna tell me either way.”
“I talk in my sleep.”
“No shit? How do you even know that, if you’re sleeping?”
“I’ve been told by various people. My mother…Eric…my sister.”
Her expression dampened upon the mention of her sister. I tried to snap her out of it.
“So, what kinds of things do you say? Funny shit?”
“Weird things that don’t make sense sometimes. Other times, embarrassing truths. I can only go by what they tell me I said. I have no recollection of it.”
I remembered there was something I needed from my truck.
She looked up from where she was planting flowers when she noticed me walking away. “Where are you going?”
“Gotta get something from the truck. Be right back.”
When I returned with what I’d purchased, she took one look at it and said, “Oh my God. What did you do?”
“What or whooo,” I joked.
I dug the stick into the ground. Attached to the top was a fake owl that looked quite lifelike.
Heather had told me a story one night about her father planting a cherry tree shortly before he took off. Each year, the birds got to the cherries before anyone could pick them. Heather had always somehow related that to her dad leaving nothing for them. That made me angry, so I wanted to do something. I bought the
owl hoping maybe it would save some of the cherries. Maybe Heather could finally have some for what could possibly be her last summer at the lakehouse.
“This guy here is supposed to scare away the birds. Might as well give him a try. Maybe we can salvage some of the cherries that are coming in. You said they’re almost ready to pick around now.”
“I can’t believe you thought to do that.” She flashed a gorgeous smile. “Thank you.”
She kept staring at the owl, seeming deeply moved by my gesture. It didn’t take much to make her happy. That was one of the things I loved about her.
Whoa.
Calm the fuck down.
“I’ll tell you what,” she said. “If this works, I’ll make you the biggest and best cherry pie to celebrate. I don’t have a clue how to do that, Noah, but I’ll learn. I will.”
I started singing the Warrant song, “Cherry Pie.”
“What’s that song?” she asked.
“You’ve never heard that song? I thought you knew all the old songs from the nineties!”
“No. I must be slipping.”
It dawned on me that I was in elementary school when that song came out, which meant Heather hadn’t been born yet. Damn, that made me feel old. I pulled the song up on my phone and cranked the volume.
Heather started shaking her ass around in her short little shorts, and I pretended not to love every second of it.
The music stopped, and we went back to work on the gardening and landscaping.
After a long while, she dropped a bomb. “I have to tell you something. It’s important. Well, two things. I might need you to stop working for a minute.”
Her tone made me uneasy. “Yeah…let me put my hoe down.”
“Don’t talk to her like that,” she joked.
“Very funny,” I said, digging the hoe into the dirt to stand it up. “What’s up?”
When August Ends Page 7
