The truck returned and she let out a sigh of relief. Grabbing the box of donuts, she walked to his driveway, taking the long way because unlike him, she was too short to hop the fence without hurting herself.
“I was thinking we could do your basement first.”
“That’s fine.” He didn’t look at her as he unloaded the supplies.
He wasted no time setting up. It was her first time inside his house and he didn’t offer a tour, so she felt awkward and uninvited looking around. She waited by the bottom of the basement steps as he loaded the roller tray with teal.
“Do you want me to cut in?”
“Sure.”
She couldn’t stand the sense that he was giving her the cold shoulder. This was not what she had in mind when she agreed to paint with him.
Her stomach knotted with guilt. Should she apologize? Too much time had gone by and bringing her rude comment up again felt cruel. She didn’t know how to fix this and put things back to the way they were.
So she grabbed a brush and went to the far wall where he was prepping the roller. Without thinking, she bumped his shoulder with her hip, playfully knocking him off balance.
“What was that for?”
She frowned down at him. “You’re being weird. If you’re mad at me for what I said, then say so. But don’t just ignore me.”
He looked ready to argue, but instead, he dropped the roller and stood, dwarfing her by his size. “Fine. The single thing’s sort of a sensitive subject for me. I used to date, but after a while it’s like what’s the fucking point? Every girl I’ve ever cared about cared more about someone else. It’s never worked out for me. Maybe because half of Center County’s my family, or maybe because there’s something wrong with me. I stopped trying to figure it out a long time ago. A big reason why I moved to the opposite end of town is because I was tired of other people wondering what was wrong with me as well.”
She frowned. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”
He rolled his eyes. “I’m glad you think so, but that still doesn’t change my reality.” He pointed the roller at the wall. “Let’s make this the teal wall.”
Seeing he didn’t want to discuss it further, she let the topic rest. They painted in silence, neither of them bothering to speak or even acknowledge the other’s presence. But she never forgot he was there.
He filled the squat basement like a giant. While she cut in the walls, working diligently along the trim, he rolled out the paint in long strokes. There was something unmistakably rugged about him, something hardy, masculine, and capable.
Historically, those were all qualities that would call to the opposite sex, so why was he single? She really had to stop thinking about it.
Maybe it was his beard. Some women liked men clean shaven. She still couldn’t decide if his hair was more blond or red. In different lights it showed different highlights. His facial hair was a mix of copper and light brown. If memory served, it was softer than it appeared. Did he put something in it to make it soft?
“Music?”
His question startled her. She’d been daydreaming and getting paint all over the trim. “Sure.” She quickly grabbed a rag and tried to clean up her sloppy mess. Realizing too late what he’d asked, she panicked. “Something old. No rock and roll, alternative rock, or blues.”
She’d been having a better than usual day and didn’t want to trigger an episode. More than any picture or scent, the sound of certain songs cut right to her heart and ripped her apart.
He fussed with his phone. “Something old, coming up.”
A battered Dewalt boom box sitting on the steps kicked on and a recognizable beat filled the room. Of all the genres she expected he might choose, doo-wop never crossed her mind.
Her mouth formed a smile. “Good choice.” She glanced over her shoulder and found him watching her.
“You like?” he asked, not knowing why she would be so selective of music but accepting her issues all the same.
“I like.”
He grinned and lifted the roller to the wall, continuing his work. She returned her focus to the trim, only to pause when his voice cut through the basement.
“Are the starrrrsssss out tonight? I don’t know if it’s cloudy or bright. I only have eyes, forrrrr you…”
She laughed. He couldn’t sing, but he got an E for effort.
“Don’t you sing?”
“No.”
“Oh, come on.” He belted out the old doo-wop classic. “The moon may be high, but I can’t see a thing in the skyyyyyy…”
Unable to resist, she glanced over her shoulder and lost it. He somehow contorted his blue eyes into those of a true crooner’s as he sauntered across the basement floor in her direction.