He opened the door to the deck-and almost tripped over a twelve pack of beer. Cold beer. Dripping, sweating cold. A fancy longneck brand. Bottles.
It was enough to make a warrior weep. Since he only hit a grocery store when he was desperate-those places were terrifying-he hadn’t picked up beer or any other side goodies. He glanced around for a note, but he already knew who’d done this to him-even before he turned his head.
One glance was all it took to identify the slim, bare foot perched on the white lawn chair next door.
Her deck was smaller than his, with a lattice privacy half wall-which was why he couldn’t see the rest of her body. But he could see the foot. And the curve of her white calf.
The Sissy Dog was snoozing on her lap, but as if sensing testosterone in the air, she jumped to the ground and sat at the edge of the deck. Slugger was too tired to move-his position on life, twenty-three hours out of twenty-four-but his tail started wagging like a metronome.
Mike ignored the critters. He could hear Amanda talking on a cell phone, even if he couldn’t see it. He opened a beer. He didn’t want or mean to listen. He just figured he’d hang for a few moments so he could thank her once she finished her call. Except, she kept talking.
“Mom. Come on now. You know I love you, and I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I’m just asking you not to call her princess… Yes, I know the kitten’s name is Princess, but that’s entirely different-Molly named her, and I couldn’t talk her out of it. Mom…”
The foot lifted. Disappeared from sight. He heard the clunk of a glass, as if she’d poured something and then set the glass down on a metal surface.
“I know you called me princess. And you were a wonderful mom. The best. Dad was a wonderful dad. The best. But you two spoiled me rotten. I really want to raise Molly more independent than I was. I don’t want her expecting…”
The foot showed up moments later with sex-red color on some of the toes. So. She was drinking, talking to her mother and repainting her toenails all at the same time. Obviously she came from the estrogen side of the species.
“…I didn’t mean that, Mom. I’m just saying…I don’t have skills. Skills I need. Skills I want. I don’t know how to mow a lawn. How to shampoo a carpet. How to do anything practical. I knew how to behave at a cotillion, a country-club dance, a symphony. But I never saw Thom coming. He bamboozled me. I should have been too old to be bamboozled. He was cheating right in front of my eyes, and I never noticed the clues. Mom. I know I’m not stupid. But just because I was smart in school doesn’t mean anything now. I need to be smart in life, and I’m a dimwit!”
The left foot was done, raised to be examined, then the right foot was started on. She was drinking wine, he identified, when a bottle showed up on the deck floor.
“No, no. I love how you raised me. I had the most wonderful childhood a girl could have. I’m just saying that times are a little different. I want Molly to be more self-reliant. To not expect a prince to rescue her, or to think she needs a prince to be happy. I want her to be able to rescue herself. No, no, I swear, I didn’t mean it that way…Mom…all right! All right! I give up! You can pay for the riding lessons! But no buying her a horse! And I mean it!”
It seemed possible the phone call rather abruptly ended, because there was suddenly a series of muttered swear words from the other side of the lattice, all said in a tone of utter exhaustion. He finally had a chance to speak and he took it.
“Hey. Thanks for the beer.”
There was a moment of total silence, and then a face showed up from the other side of the lattice. She wasn’t completely naked, contrary to what his imagination had tried to lead him to believe. Her T-shirt read Duke. Maybe it was hers, maybe an old boyfriend’s, but whichever, it was even older than his, more frayed, more holey. He gained respect for her right then and there. Of course, he also noticed the shortest shorts he’d ever seen. My God, she might be a redhead, but she did have a set of legs. En route, he did happen to glimpse she was shooting fire from her eyes.
“Were you listening to that conversation?”
“Me? I don’t know what you mean. I just walked out on the deck a second ago, saw the beer, couldn’t imagine anyone who would have left it but you. Appreciate it. Want one?”
“No, of course not. I… Yes.”
He was going to have to rename her the whirling dervish. She put the Sissy Dog inside, grabbed her icer and wine bottle, her wineglass, and zipped down the steps and into his yard faster than he could retract the offer.
Slugger took one look and rolled on his back, assuming she’d want to pet him. She did. Then poured another glass of wine for herself. “I started with wine, so I don’t want to mix it with beer, but I’m more than up for sharing a drink.” She took the chair across from him-another Adirondack chair, nothing fancy. Her Duke T-shirt was so oversized that when she bent down again to rub Slugger’s tummy, he could see the tips of a lace bra. The view suggested that there was a lot more bra than boob in there. The red toenails shined like Chinese lacquer. Her hair was swooped up, all messy, all wild, held off her neck with some clips.
It was hard to define why he liked the whole package. But he did.
A lot.
“What do you think?” She motioned to the space between their houses. “Do we need a fence? Because of the dogs and kids and all? I like the open space between the properties…but I don’t know. A fence still seems like a good idea. At least if you think so. The point is that we should agree on the nature of fence, don’t you think? And just for the record, I know perfectly well that it was you who sneaked the tools in my cart this morning.”
He was having trouble following her fast changes in subject. Particularly when his attention was so zealously focused on her bare legs and inadequate neckline. “There was no point in your throwing away money on tools that weren’t going to hold up. As far as I could tell, you weren’t worried about price. You were just choosing stuff that had pink handles.”
“Well, yes.”
He wiped a hand over his face. No point in discussing that any further. “If you want a fence between the yards, naturally, I’ll spring for my half.”
“I’m not trying to be difficult. It was just an idea. If we both wanted a fence…I just didn’t want to act unilaterally. For one thing, there are all kinds and types of fences-”
“I get it. You’re not being difficult.” She was. He wasn’t sure why. He wasn’t sure why they were talking about fences, either, except for the obvious reason. They wanted protection from each other.
“I’ve just had a really long day.”
He thought she was trying to explain why she was being difficult again, but then he heard the old song “I Will Survive,” and realized it was her designated cell-phone ring. She lifted a hand and, apologizing to him, said, “This’ll be short, but I really need to take it.”
“No sweat.” He took another pull on his beer, put his bare feet on the deck rail and let his head fall back. In two seconds, he realized the caller was her ex-husband.
“I wasn’t ducking your calls, Thom. We were busy with the move this week.” And then, “I think it’s a little ridiculous that you’re pushing for equal custody when you couldn’t even make the last two visitations. This isn’t about Molly, and you know it. You just want the child support cut. It’s not as if you can’t afford it, for heaven’s sake-”
She bounced up from the chair, turned her back-as if turning around would make it harder for Mike to hear her. Not.