"Let me see."
He hesitated, then handed over the bike. I flipped it upside down and knelt next to it, examining the chain. It had come completely off the gears, probably from being too loose for too long.
"You got any tools?" I asked Lucas.
“No.”
“My toolbox is sitting on the work bench in my garage. If you want to go grab it, I’ll show you how to fix it. Bring the can of WD-40 too.”
Lucas jogged off toward my garage, and Marisol came up behind me.
"You really don't have to do this," she said.
"I know.”
Lucas came back with what I’d asked for, and I guided him through threading the chain back on, how to adjust the tension, and how to clean and oil it so it wouldn't keep slipping.
He paid attention, his earlier frustration giving way to focus. I'd worked with enough young men during my Army days to recognize the signs of someone who could use a steady hand and a little patience.
When we finished, Lucas tested the pedals. The chain held, smooth and quiet.
"Thanks, Mr. Stone." He glanced at Marisol. "Can I go over to Derek's?"
She checked her watch. “It’s almost time for dinner.”
“We have a big project we have to work on. I can eat when I get home.”
“Fine. Be back by nine.”
“Okay.” He hopped on the bike and took off, throwing a wave over his shoulder.
I stood and wiped my hands on my jeans, aware of Marisol watching me.
"He doesn't open up to many people," she said. "But he seems comfortable with you."
“He’s a good kid.”
She smiled, but her eyes still seemed sad. "His friends have been... I don't know. Different lately. He's been staying out later and gets annoyed when I pry. I'm probably just paranoid, but..."
"Trust your gut," I said. "If something feels off, it probably is." I knew that from being the kid who kept secrets and caused Mama Mae more than a few gray hairs.
She nodded, wrapping her arms around herself despite the early spring heat. The movement pulled the scrubs tighter across her body, pulling my attention to her waist again. I forced myself to study the sunset instead of the swell of her hips.
"Stay for dinner," she said offered. "Please. It's just tacos, nothing fancy, but I'd like to thank you for your help with my tire, the lightbulb, and now helping Lucas.”
Every instinct I had told me to say no. Sitting at her table, sharing a meal, pretending to be something more than the neighbor who fixed things… that would be crossing the line I'd been careful to stay far away from.
"I appreciate the offer, but I should get back. I’ve got some things to take care of before dark."
"Of course." Her forehead furrowed and her lips softened into a frown as she headed back to the porch and picked up the glasses from the railing. "Thanks again for everything."
"Anytime."
I picked up my toolbox and headed home, feeling her eyes on me the whole way.
Before the last bit of daylight disappeared, I fed the horses, then cleaned up and reheated a leftover piece of lasagna. The whole time, I couldn’t stop looking out of the window that faced her house.
The porch light came on. Through her side window, I could see her moving around the kitchen. A spot under my ribs ached, but I told myself to leave it alone. To stop watching. To stop caring more than a neighbor should.
