“How long you been painting?”
I glance down at my phone at the time. “A couple of hours.” I smile. “What do you think of the color?”
There’s nothing over the top about my color choice, but I’ve never gone with this shade of yellow before. A second opinion is always nice.
“Yellow.” He nods. “Looks nice.”
“Technically it’s called buttercup.” It’s a soft yellow—neutral. It’ll look good with furniture and decor.
“I had a call.”
Here we go.
“Don’t tell me… Mona?”
“She called on behalf of her tenant.” He uses his thumb to gesture to the window. The window that overlooks the little bungalow to the north of this place. “Her ‘tenant’”—he uses air quotes—“is complaining about the light.”
I stare at Finn. Then, I look up at the ceiling. “That light?” I point at the small fixture that has been there since the house was built. At least that’s my guess. It’s old and not super effective. But it’s enough for me to see what I’m doing.
He rolls his eyes and sighs. “Apparently. Also, the music.”
I’m suddenly incensed. I point to the small radio I’ve got plugged into the wall. It’s an ancient one my dad used to use when he did construction work. Nowadays he works part-time at the hardware store when he’s not helping me with finish carpentry, thanks to his bad back. I look down at the old radio. Hell, it’s even got a dial on it, and I’ve got to work at it to get anything to come in clear enough. “That thing doesn’t even get loud enough to hear it from here to the kitchen.”
I growl. “In order for her to hear that music, she had to be right next to that window.” I point to the large window that looks out onto the side yard and her tenant’s place. I growl again. “I knew she’s been too quiet.” It’s been a week and a half since the city council meeting. I guess she’s decided to find a new approach. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” I rub my hands over my face. I’m sure there’s going to be paint there now but whatever. “What are they gonna do when someone lives here? Is he gonna call the police because the people that live here want the lights on in the evening? What if they want to watch television? This is effing ridiculous.”
Finn frowns and lifts one shoulder. “She’s got a hard-on for you and I don’t know why.”
“I don’t either. I really don’t. Well, other than the fact that she’s pissed she didn’t get this house.” There’s also a story around town that Mona and my mom didn’t get along. At all. They were rivals in high school, apparently, and since my mom isn’t around anymore, it’s my job to take the brunt of Mona’s animosity. At least that’s one theory.
Nothing I can do about that.
“And you don’t seem to take her shit.” He chuckles. “She likes obedient subjects.”
“She doesn’t like you either.” I smile, finally.
“For the same reason. I don’t jump through hoops for her. And, ordinarily, I would’ve ignored her call, except I wanted an excuse to talk to you.”
I blink a few times. “You did?”He did?I take a moment to look at our sheriff and a little flutter happens in my belly. I’ve always had a crush on the guy, I mean, who wouldn’t? He looks exactly like a guy named Finnegan should, with reddish hair and a few freckles on his face, except he’s built like a linebacker for the Green Bay Packers. The guy works out all the time, and he runs. I know this because I see him on my way to Bella’s shop almost every day. I’d say he eats healthy too, except, according to Bella, he gets his breakfast there Monday through Saturday.
I swear to you, Finn blushes. “I, uh, wanted to ask you about Bella.”
Of course, he did.
And the flutters stop. My death of the fantasy that Finnegan Manning has a thing for me stabs me right in the chest. Not going to lie, it hurts a little bit. I mean, I know a guy like Finn wouldn’t be interested in me. Not when Bella Truman is in the picture. She’s everything a guy would ever want. She’s tall and curvy. Her hair is long and dark and naturally wavy. She’s not plagued with the frizzy kind of curls I have. She’s also stunningly beautiful. I’m not saying that because I’m her bestie. Ask anyone. The girl is a bombshell.
“Is she seeing anyone?”
“Uh….” Shit. Finn is looking at me expectantly. I hate to break his sweet little heart but, “Finn….”
“Is she?” he asks again. “Seeing anyone?”
Shaking my head, I answer him. “No but, um, Bella… she likes bad boys.”
I think I surprise him, because his hand lands on his chest, right over his heart. “Bad boys?”
“You know. The motorcycle-riding, heavy-metal-listening, cigarette-smoking bad boys.” Truth? She hates heavy metal and cigarettes, but she’s drawn to those guys likes flies on—well, you get the idea.
“I see.” Finn turns on his heel and reaches for the door. “Place looks nice, Lou.”
