work on that run-down house.”
“I heard she’s single. No boyfriend. No husband. That true?”
“As far as I know.”
“A shame. A woman like that alone. Figure she could use some expert advice from a willing man?” His tone indicated he wasn’t discussing the Ross house.
Davis turned a cool gaze on the man. “Does your wife know you talk that way about other women?”
“Loosen up, dude. I didn’t mean nothing by it. People talk. She’s got a kid. I figured she’s still a party girl.” Flushing red, Pete yanked a saw blade from the rack and stalked away.
Davis watched him storm off, saw him muttering to the checker and suspected either he or Lana was the likely topic of conversation. With a sigh, he reached for an extra blade and headed to the checkout himself.
It didn’t seem right that people would assume the worst about anyone, especially a woman they hadn’t seen since the teen years. Sure, she’d been wild and crazy, but so had a lot of kids back then. Lana and Tess were known as the ringleaders, the party girls, always looking for trouble, but they never had to look far. There were plenty ready to run with them. Davis leaned toward a different crowd and had kept his nose clean for a couple of reasons. He’d been a Christian or had tried to be. He sure hadn’t been perfect, but he’d wanted a scholarship. He hadn’t gotten it and after a semester of barely making ends meet at college, he had ended up joining his dad’s tile business. Much as the rejection had hurt when he was eighteen, he was content with his life today. For the most part.
On the drive to Jenny’s to pick up the kids and then all the way home, he fumed over the conversation with Pete. For all he knew, Pete was right about Lana, and if people were already talking, her reintroduction to Whisper Falls might prove bumpy.
None of which was Sydney’s fault. The little girl had crossed the street yesterday and invited his kids to play. She was a pretty thing, with bright eyes the color of the Hawaiian ocean and a sweet, gentle smile. He’d refused her request, using homework as an excuse.
He stole a glance in the rearview mirror at the kids in the backseat, heads together, focused on a handheld video game. Electronic zings and zaps mingled with their happy giggles. How would he feel if the neighbors snubbed them?
He was letting the opinions of others determine his actions when, in truth, Lana and Sydney had given him no reason to avoid them.
He was as big a jerk as Pete Abernathy.
As he turned down Dogwood Street into his neighborhood, he spotted the woman occupying his thoughts. His chest clenched. He ran a hand down the front of his T-shirt, pushing at the uncomfortable feeling.
In a pair of old jeans with one knee torn out and the hems frayed above white tennis shoes, Lana was standing on a ladder sweeping leaves from the gutters. One end of the gutter hung loose. A mishmash of building supplies was scattered on the porch.
Instead of turning toward his house, he pulled into Lana’s driveway and got out. Both his kids hopped out, chattering like chipmunks.
When the car doors slammed, Lana turned her head. The brown hair that mesmerized his son was pulled back in a tail and held with a skinny red headband.
“Looks like you’ve got gutter problems,” he called. Not exactly scintillating conversation but an easy opening.
“I hope not.” She frowned and glanced back to the roofline. “You think so?”
“Maybe not. If you’ll come down I’ll take a look.”
“Would you?”
“Sure.”
She was already backing down the ladder.
As he took her place, she said, “I’m trying to learn as much as I can about this remodeling business, but it’s a sharp learning curve.”
He squinted down at her. “YouTube?”
Her mouth curved. “How did you guess?”
“I’ve gone there myself a few times. There’s some good advice and some really bad advice. Be careful.” He tugged at the loose strip of gutter.
“What do you think?”
“The hangers need to be replaced but the fascia wood is in good shape.”
“Are they expensive?”
“Under ten bucks apiece. An easy fix.”
“Whew.” Her face was tilted upward, so he was staring down at dark mink eyelashes that reached all the way up to equally dark eyebrows, the smooth, pretty curve of her neck and her full lips. “That’s a relief. So far, it’s the only thing less expensive than I’d hoped.”
“What have you gotten done so far?”
“If you have a minute, I’ll show you.”
Davis twitched a shoulder. “Okay.” He turned to tell the kids, but they’d heard and were already on the porch, ready to barge in. “Hey, you two. Slow down,” he said coming down from the ladder.
“Is Sydney home? Can she play?”
“She’s inside doing homework.”
“Which is where you two munchkins should be,” Davis said, grabbing them both in a headlock from the back.
“Da-ad!”
“Please, Daddy, can we play for a minute while you talk to Lana?” She measured with her thumb and finger. “One teeny-weeny minute?”
“We can’t stay long,” he warned.
Taking that as a yes, they barreled inside and up the staircase, thundering like prairie buffalo.
“Sydney!” he heard Paige yell.
Lana laughed as they, too, went inside. “I’m beat from battling this house all day and they still have energy to run.”
“Remodeling is a big job.” He looked around the living room. “Nice. I didn’t expect you to have the walls covered already.”
She’d not only painted the ugly green walls and ceilings, she’d scrubbed the windows and fireplace and tossed sheets over the old furniture. The room was, at least, now livable.
Next to the fireplace, an acoustic guitar leaned against the wall, classic Lana. He remembered how good her voice had been. Anyway, she’d impressed their small town.
“I couldn’t stand the graffiti,” she was saying. “Some of the writing wasn’t exactly family fare. I didn’t want Sydney to read it.”
“I hear that.” And he liked it, too. If she didn’t approve of rough language, she had changed. “The color is nice. Sort of a pale chocolate milk.”
“I still have to paint the wood trim. What do you think of white enamel all around?”
“White’s
