I squeal and smack his arm, and then he kisses me. His lips are soft and strong, giving me what I need and taking just as much. I don’t want to stop. Not at all. It’s Connor who pulls back first.
“Brynn, what did I say about attacking me? I swear, it’s like you didn’t hear a thing I said.” He grins playfully.
I narrow my eyes, my breath still coming in pants. “Do you want to paint your big toe tomorrow? Because you might have to. Turns out I might be busy after all.”
Connor snaps his fingers. “That’s it. I’ll paint my toe with your face as the nail.”
My top lip curls. “Ew. Connor, that’s gross.”
He laughs. “Five o’clock, Brynn. Be ready.”
A thought pops into my head. “How should I ‘be ready’ for you to paint me?”
“Just be yourself. Wear a shirt that tells everyone you have an attitude long before you open your mouth and prove it.”
“That’s it. I’m getting out.” This time I not only grab the handle, I actually open the door. “Bye, Connor.”
“Bye, Brynn.”
He waits for me to get inside before he leaves. I laugh to myself as I set my stuff down and plug my phone into the charger. It isn’t until I’m in the shower that I realize what I forgot.
I climb out, cautious. Now that I’ve remembered, the danger feels real. Reaching for a towel, I wrap it around myself, ignoring the drops of water from my wet hair that slide down my bare upper back. I creep down the short hallway and to the front door. Using my foot, I slide the door alarm into place. Next, I go to the back door and double check that one is still in place, and then, for good measure, I look under the bed and check the closet.
My towel loosens, falling down my torso as I sit on the end of the bed and take a deep breath.
One day, I won’t look under beds. I won’t use door alarms. I won’t fear a monster in the distance.
* * *
“What the hell is that?”
Walt wrinkles his nose and looks at the package with disdain.
I shake it. “What does it look like?”
He turns his face away from me. “I don’t need those.”
“Yes you do, and badly, too. I can see the hair from here, even though you’ve turned away. They reach out, like tentacles. One day I fear they might be so long they’ll poke my cheek.”
Walt grumbles and takes the nose hair trimmers from my outstretched hand. “Am I supposed to thank you?”
I grin, happy he has accepted them. It was a gamble buying them for him. “I’ll be the one thanking you when you put them to use.”
Walt tosses the plastic container on his kitchen counter. “Are you here to help me or nag me?”
I get up from his small table and go to the door leading to the backyard. “Come on. Did you get those heavy-duty garbage bags?” I dropped by two days ago to give Walt a small shopping list for today’s project.
“I got everything you asked for, and a couple more items.” He points to the side of the house. Containers of brightly colored flowers sit in a row, and beside them are two bags of soil and mulch.
“Flowers?”
“Don’t go getting misty-eyed. I’m still a grumpy old man.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, you can totally be a grump while sitting on your porch and staring at pretty flowers. Let me know how that goes for you.”
The work in Walt’s backyard isn’t easy. He has years of junk piled everywhere. Wooden pallets, plastic five-gallon buckets, various tools strewn about, coils of chicken wire, an abandoned clothesline, and other things for which I have no name.
We’re an hour into sorting when I ask him why he has all this stuff.
