Looking up at the front of my house, I saw that my outdoor lights were broken, and the glass scattered on the steps and concrete. I had a small light by the door that was connected to a timer, turning on and off with dusk and dawn, but I also had a motion sensor light off to one side. Simon had installed it after he moved in, so it lit up the space between both of our houses.
“What on earth?” I said to no one in particular. Shit, what a mess! I wanted to swear out loud, but I was used to tempering those words around kids. “The lights are all broken.”
Quake frowned, and Jackson watched both of us, unsure.
I sighed, then remembered myself. “Here, sorry.”
I unlocked the front door, taking the grocery bags from both of them, sticking them inside.
“This happened before?” Quake asked, glancing down the street one way then the other, his look shrewd. While a car drove by, nothing seemed unusual. I didn't see any glass on Simon's stoop nor the house on the other side.
“No,” I grumbled, tossing up my hands. “Just leave it. I’ll sweep it up, so no one gets cut. I’ll get new bulbs after work tomorrow.”
Quake shook his head. “Nah. I’ll have this taken care of.” When I was about to object, he cut me off by holding up his hand. “My son, Frank, will deal with it while you’re working. He’ll be here at seven thirty tomorrow
night for you to test the lights, and he’ll bring your meal. All right?”
Tilting my head, I eyed the man, trying to read him, which seemed impossible. I didn’t want to play poker with him, and I doubted many said no to him. “I have a feeling you’re going to get your way, aren’t you?”
I glanced down at Jackson for confirmation, and he just grinned, a dimple creasing his cheek. “He always gets his way,” he whispered, but Quake heard and chuckled.
“Yeah, make it easy on yourself and say yes. You took care of Jackson, so now we take care of you.”
I wasn’t sure who the we was, but I was too tired to argue.
11
EMORY
* * *
By the time I’d showered, eaten and swept up the glass, it was nine. Throwing on a pair of cotton shorts and a tank top in deference to the heat, I finally had time to check my phone. I stood at my kitchen counter and saw that I had another text from Gray. My heart rate sped up, and I felt giddy at the sight of his name. I was smiling in my quiet kitchen. It was a new feeling for me, this excitement about a guy, and I liked it. It was thrilling and definitely flattering. Gray was hot, a different league entirely than any other man I’d met, and he was interested in me. Me!
Why, I had no idea, but I was going to see what happened, even though that concept was completely unfamiliar to me. I didn’t just see what happened about anything. I was a mother and a planner and… no. No! that was the old Emory. The normal Emory. Now, I just went with it. With fumbling fingers, I eagerly pulled the message up.
Gray: Thor found hot sauce on my chin this morning. Why didn’t you tell me?
Eyes widening at his words, I covered my smile with my fingers. The idea of Gray walking around with a dab of wing sauce on his chin was ridiculous… and only wanted to make me think about licking it off. God, why did he always have to say just the right thing? I’d been unsure of what the next steps were with him, but he’d made it easy for me to respond. He wasn’t playing games, he was just going with it, too. I typed quickly, my thumbs flying over the screen, biting my lip as I went.
Me: How was Thor's date with his wife?
He responded within seconds.
Gray: You were right. Let's just say Thor's a happy man today.
I couldn't help but grin as I thought of the big guy trying to navigate the insanity of early childhood.
Gray: What's your stand on toilet brushes?
I froze, staring at his text. Toilet brushes?
Me: Is this code for something?
Gray: Relationships.
What? I leaned my hip against the counter.
Me: Not sure if I'm a good person to ask. I went on one not-date, and the guy couldn’t even use a napkin right.