“Thanks for the rescue,” I say softly as I step out.
His eyes meet mine, just for a breath, and something sharp and curious flickers there.
“Anytime,” he says.
Then he drives away, and I stand there watching his taillights fade into the trees, my camera warm in my hands, my pulse still unsteady from the brush of his fingers on my hip.
I have no idea what just happened.
But I have a sinking suspicion it’s going to matter.
TWO
KENDRICK
Reaching into the gutter, I grimace as I remove a fistful of brown gunk.
“How the hell did this get so… gross?” I ask the blue-chested bird perched on a nearby tree. “I just cleaned these sons of bitches last year.”
The bird tilts its head to the side as if to say that’s life.
“Maybe it’s a sign I should invest in some of those gutter guards.”
The bird puffs out his chest and flutters his wings.
“You’re right. I should check at the hardware store next time I’m in town.”
If they aren’t in stock, I can always have some ordered in. It might take a while for them to come. Things tend to move a little slower around here. It’s part of what I like about this place. Even if it means having to clean Gran’s gutters one more time before hopefully coming up with a more permanent solution.
It’s a fair trade-off. Even if the journey is gunky.
Bracing myself for the gross-out, I retrieve another ball of congealed leaves, needles, and mystery nature. The backdoor of the cabin creaks open.
“Kennny,” Gran calls out in that raspy tone of hers. “Kenny, where have you gone to?”
I mask the next urge to shudder. I hate being called Kenny. If it was anyone else, I’d tell them off. But Gran’s been calling me that since I was in diapers. Since she was the one who frequently changed those diapers, she gets a free pass.
“I’m up here, Gran.”
Raising a hand to block the sun, she glances up. Her dark eyes crinkle around the edges as they land on me.
“What are you doing up there?”
“Cleaning out the gutters.”
“You don’t have to do that. I would’ve gotten around to it soon enough.”
I nearly roll my eyes at that. A woman her age, and with her medical history, has no business climbing ladders or sitting on roofs. I tried telling her that once a few years back. It’s a wonder I didn’t burst
Still, I’ll be damned if I let her get up here again.
“…if I let you do this,” I finish, careful not to slip and send myself flying off the roof. “Besides, I had some free time.”
Gran snorts. “Free time. Like that’s ever been a thing in your vocabulary.”
I flick another wad of muck off the edge. “I make time.”
“For me,” she says, narrowing her eyes. “Not for anything else.”
