As I’m buttoning up my gray, dress shirt after a quick wash, Brendan strolls through the patio door, whistling.
“Damn, you must think I’m taking you someplace nice.”
“What?” I glance down at my dark jeans as I roll my sleeves up to my forearms.
He dumps all his stuff on the counter, then shakes a few excess beads of water out of his hair. “I was thinking drive-thru burgers.”
“Come on, mister big job,” I comb my hair and add a little gel, “I did a lot of work for you today. You’re taking me to a sit down restaurant.”
“You know I coulda done that wall in one hour.”
“See, I saved you an entire hour.”
“Whatever you say.”
I slip on my nice Dockers and grab my wallet just so I have my ID.“Come on, you’re paying.”
“Yes, dearest.”
As we stroll out the back door, I find myself glancing over at the neighbor’s. “So no problems showering?”
“Nope, but I left her a nice little present.” He strolls up to his work truck. “I don’t even think she’s home.”
“Please tell me you didn’t shit in her shower?”
“Nah. But I did forget a towel, so I used one of hers and left it there. I’ll have to remember to take a deuce at her door tomorrow. Good call.”
I shake my head. “You just like finding trouble, huh?”
“Always.”
“You know we live beside her, right? That’s not going to change.”
“All the more reason to have a little fun.”
“Mm-hmm. Just remember, it’s all fun and games until somebody loses their dick. Then I’m not taking you to the ER.” I’m not sure he has the right definition of fun. Still, I keep looking back at the dark windows. Maybe he’s right about her being gone, though. I haven’t heard a peep out of her all day. She’s probably at work. Our sink is doing the job for now, but eventually, I’m going to need a real shower, too. Maybe I can sneak one in while she’s gone.
Brendan opens his truck and raises his foot to step in.
“Seriously? Your truck?”I glance at the garage where my baby is parked.
“What’s wrong with my truck?”
I raise my eyebrows while taking in the mud soaked tires and bottom half.
Without me even saying a word, he waves and climbs in. “Whatever. It’s just a little dirt. I’m taking you out, so get your pansy-ass in.”
“You love my ass.”
“Yeah, only ‘cause it’s the same ass as mine.”
We drive around in relative silence until Brendan pulls into a secluded restaurant, tucked between the evergreen forest on the outskirts of town.It looks like a run-down log cabin, where they used license plates to patch the holes in the walls. The Rusty Skipper. I cringe, the name’s a little too fitting.
“So I’m your side piece now, that you’re afraid to take in public?” I tease him.
“Damn straight. Now get your ass out of my truck.” He hops out and heads toward the front door.
Following after him, I shake my head. “Seriously, how did you find this place?”