for this,” Marissa grumbled as she gave her curls one last shake and headed for the door. When she pulled it open, she paused and looked up.
“What happened to the bells?”
I sensed that Marissa was the kind of person who valued honesty. So I confessed. “Mrs. Kirkwood.”
Marissa nodded in complete understanding. “Thanks, Heather, for bringing me out of hiding. Now I have to call a certain excavator and find out if he has a guest bedroom.”
Even if I hadn’t heard the ominous sound of the vacuum cleaner upstairs, the sight of Dex’s car parked in the alley behind the salon clued me into the fact that he was still lurking around my apartment.
My feet needed a soothing cucumber rub and a long soak in the bathtub that, by now, should have a faucet. I pushed open the door and my nose immediately twitched in response to the strange smell of Chinese food mixed with…burning rubber?
“Dex?”
I heard Snap’s low, welcoming yowl from her hideout under the couch.
“You’re early.” Dex emerged from the bathroom. His hair was plastered against his head and his clothes were soaking wet. I suddenly remembered there were certain types of vacuum cleaners that sucked up both dirt and water.
“Actually, I’m late. Marissa came in just when I was about to close. It’s almost seven.”
“Seven?”
“What happened to—”
“I have to go.” Dex grabbed his bucket of tools and charged past me, leaving a trail of wet footprints across the floor.
“What do you think, Snap? Should we make a onetime contribution to his mission trip and save the apartment while there’s still time?”
At the sound of my voice, Snap crept out of hiding. I was touched by her loyalty until she rubbed her whiskers lovingly against the corner of the breakfast counter. Did I mention my nose had tricked me into believing that somewhere in the apartment was a container of sweet and sour chicken? Only it wasn’t a trick. There was a note from Dex, signing over custody of the white cardboard carton to me.
“I forgive you, Dex,” I said out loud. I grabbed a fork and shook the chopsticks to the side. They may be the authentic way to eat Chinese, but they weren’t quick enough to suit my stomach—which hadn’t had a deposit since a quick chocolate break mid-afternoon. I tap-danced my way back to the couch to find Snap already waiting there.
No way was I sharing. “I have one word for you. Indigestion. Go eat your kibbles.”
Someone knocked on the door and I figured Dex had decided to come back to confess to whatever handyman crime he’d committed. Or he’d changed his mind and wanted to share my supper. Too late for joint custody, buddy!
“All I know is there better be a faucet…” I have a bad habit of starting to talk to a person before I can actually see their face. Suddenly I was cured. Because the guy leaning casually against the railing wasn’t Dex.
“Heather, right? I’m Jared Ward.”
I’ve never been the kind of person who gets tongue-tied around strangers. Ask my parents, who claim I did my own imitation of stand-up comedy at their dinner parties before I turned three.
Come on, Heather. You could say the words “want cake” when the kids in your weekly playgroup were still blowing spit bubbles. You can do this!
“I thought I’d come by and see the apartment I’m not going to be living in this summer and meet my closest neighbor.” The teasing tone in his voice told me he had a sense of humor. The half step forward was my cue to invite him in.
“We’re neighbors?” A gold star for my advanced communication skills!
“We are now. Marissa is letting me live in the garage behind the studio.” He pointed over his shoulder and I could see his motorcycle parked next to a small concrete building at the end of the alley. He gave me a mischievous wink. “It ain’t much, but it’s home.”
“I just got off work. Things are kind of crazy at the moment.” Snap was probably finishing off my fried rice. And I still didn’t know why Dex had looked like he’d been in a dunk tank.
Jared didn’t take my not-ready-for-visitors hint. Instead, he ran a quick, appraising scan that started at my face and ended at my toes. I felt the heat from the blush that traveled along right behind it.
“You wear it well. Crazy, I mean. Not many people can pull it off.”
He had no idea. It was all in the accessories. And of course having unlimited minutes with God. I was just about to give in to a moment of weakness (that may or may not have had something to do with his eyes—which were as blue as the ocean on a travel brochure) and invite him in, when he gave me an easy smile.
“You don’t mind if I stop over when things aren’t so crazy, do you?”
“No.” That came out pathetically quick. He probably had girls fainting in a line behind him. Personality had always meant more to me than looks, but Jared Ward seemed to have been blessed with both. What was a girl to do?
“So, any idea when that will be?”
In about five minutes. As soon as I see what Dex did to the bathroom…but I couldn’t say that without sounding like one of those desperate-for-a-Friday-date girls. And today was Thursday.
“The craziness tends to last a while.” I was being truthful, not coy, and I couldn’t resist the urge to test his confidence a little. “Like last night, when I was horseback riding with a friend? Some maniac on a motorcycle broke the sound barrier as he drove past us and almost sent the horses into orbit.”
Jared’s eyes widened, making them look even bluer. Not fair. “That was you?”
I wasn’t offended. It had been dark when he’d stopped to ask directions. I tipped the brim of my invisible cowboy hat.
“I’m sorry, I’m a city boy. When I got on that flat stretch of country road I just had to open it up.” Jared tucked his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, the kind deliberately created with worn spots and artistically placed rips. “When I saw the horses running, I thought it was on purpose. You looked like you had it under control.”
How could I remain upset after that flattering—but totally erroneous—assessment?
“At least you slowed down the second time,” I murmured. Forgiveness was an important part of my faith, after all.
“So, Friday nights aren’t crazy, are they? What do people do around here on the weekends? Count tractors?”
He wasn’t going to give up, which left me feeling flattered and flustered. “I’m not sure. I haven’t been here very long, either,” I admitted.
“Really? Let’s figure it out together. What time do you get off work tomorrow night?”
“Five.”
“Great.” He bounded down the stairs and didn’t stop until he reached his
