I smiled to myself. I’d met someone, and her age was definitely a factor, but not because she was younger.
“I met some people. I’m good. Going home to grill some beef, settle in with a cigar. Take care, Pops.”
Disconnecting the call, I watched Claire pull onto our street. I’d have to leave eventually—I couldn’t leave my pops forever. Could I?
Somehow, my heart was already entrenched with my next-door neighbor. It pained me to think about hurting her.
I pushed those thoughts away. I had to cook her dinner and woo her to my side of the fence.
The grill burned hot, and the steaks sizzled when I tossed them on. I placed a few ears of corn in husks around the edge.
“So, you cook too?” Claire entered my yard, Smitty in tow, a half-smile on her face.
“Yeah, survival skills. My dad would have to go check the gates before dusk, and I was usually the one who would get shit ready. I even remembered the butter,” I said, referencing our earlier neighborly exchange.
“In your shitkickers?” she shot back, inserting her own brand of sass.
She’d changed. Wearing jean shorts and a white V-neck T-shirt, she could easily be mistaken for a grad student. Her body was trim and toned from running and probably not always eating well or taking care of herself or not. Could go either way.
“Of course,” I ribbed her back. I’d changed too. Still in my cargos, but I’d put on a fresh shirt and flip-flops. As I worked the grill, I called Smitty over for a pet.
“I left some wine on the table.”
“Found it,” she called back, pouring herself a glass.
“I’d planned on drinking my coffee and eating something sweet tonight.” She stood next to me, confessing her sins, eyeing me up, looking for a reaction.
“You know that’s pretty much how I’ve lived the last three years,” she went on. “Bitter, broken, bored, drowning my misery in caffeine and sugar. Really, it’s been longer than three years. Before Abby died, I was bitter over my failed marriage, being a single mom. Then after, I was pretty much bitter over everything. All of it sucked the life out of me, and somehow, I took to always being alone. It was easier.”
“Isn’t this better than being alone?” I asked, giving her space, still playing around with the grill.
“Well, I was a solo flier for so long. Alone is pretty much how I’ve spent most Friday nights over the last few years. I don’t even know half the neighbors’ names anymore. Yet, here I am, at your house for dinner, drinking, smiling…something I haven’t done in a long time…and yes, it is better. So, thank you. Again.”
Dropping the cover on the grill, I gathered her by the waist and placed a kiss on the top of her head. “I’m happy you’re here. It’s not pity or any Mrs. Robinson fantasy. This feeling, I know you feel it too.” My lips grazed her forehead this time. “Feel that? The crackling? Between us? It’s hot…and I don’t mean the grill.” She laughed into my chest, and it made my heart pound harder.
“Whatever this is, it’s mutual. I’m a loner and keep to myself. But not when it comes to you.”
“With you, I seem to always want to be closer. Yeah, at first, I thought you were sexy as hell, but now, I want to know all of you.” A few errant hairs blew from the gust of my hushed words into the crown of her head, and I kissed them down.
“I don’t know what to say. This is unexpected, but I can’t seem to stop it. I think about you. A lot. And you make me smile more than anyone else has in a long while.”
“So don’t say anything, except for how you take your steak. Leave the rest to me.”
Another soft smile, her wineglass still dangling in her hand.
“Medium.”
“I can do medium. Now, go sit back and take a load off in one of those loungers.”
Of course, Smitty followed her and sat at her feet, guarding her like I wanted to.
With two cobs of corn shucked and two steaks plated, I walked toward the small patio. “Don’t get up.”
“Let me get you a drink…at least.”
“I got one.” I flicked my chin toward the small cooler next to the door.
I handed her the plate and set mine on the lounger next to her.
