When Belinda said it, I felt like an idiot because I hadn’t thought of it first.What kind of dad could I ever be if I couldn’t even warn a grown woman to keep her shoes on so she didn’t cut her feet?
“Oh.”AJ glanced at her feet, but then she looked up so she could try to pacify her family.“I’m fine, Mama.I promise.I’m sorry I woke you.”
“You didn’t wake us.Gran and I were already up because we heard a car peel out in front of the house about twenty minutes ago.I wanted to call the sheriff, but Gran said we didn’t really have anything to report except some noise.”
Gran Harlowe sighed in the doorway.She’d aged, but she was still beautiful to me.The sound of her voice held kindness like it always had.“Obviously I was wrong about that,” she said.“Dixon, it’s nice to see you again.I thought that was you the other mornin’, but you’re all grown up now.”
“Yes, ma’am.Nice to see you too.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re here.I feel better knowin’ Avery Jane has a friend around in case that asshole comes back.”
Miss Belinda scoffed at the curse, which was true to my memory of her.She’d always been harder to win over.Trust didn’t come as easy to her as it had to AJ’s gran.But I was in complete agreement.Just as it crossed my mind that I wasn’t AJ’s protector, that I couldn’t be, her mama looked back at me, and in her eyes, I saw doubt.She didn’t think I was AJ’s best choice for a protector either.
“I’ll wait on the porch for the sheriff,” I said.“’Scuse me.”
ChapterEleven
Avery Jane
Dixon slepton my porch in my wicker rocking chair, with no blanket or pillow, his arms and legs kinked up and hanging over the sides like a bunch of melted puzzle pieces that didn’t fit together anymore.
After she’d fingerprinted my door and the vase and table, I’d heard Abey talking to Dixon on the porch, but Mama and Gran stayed and insisted on helping me clean up, and by the time they left, Dixon was snoring.
When I woke up this morning on the couch, he had already gone.
But I didn’t have to wait long to see him again, because five minutes after I opened the flower shop, he walked in quietly, carrying an old, silver metal toolbox.
All he said was, “This door needs tendin’.I nearly fell through it the other day because the latch doesn’t engage properly, and all it took was one look to see the hinges are nearly rusted through.If you don’t mind, I’ll replace the hardware,” and without another word, he removed the front door from its hinges and began to work on removing the hinges themselves.
He was kind and helpful to customers when they came in, but he stayed silent most of the time.Gran and Mama were in and out, checking on me all morning, too, so I suspected Dixon wanted to talk but wouldn’t in front of them.
He worked effortlessly, like he hung doors every day.Maybe he did.I had no idea what he’d been up to since he left Wisper or where he’d lived before he came home.Wherever he’d been, it was clear the work he’d been doing was physical.
Cheese and rice!The man was built.Not like, ‘Oh yeah, he does cardio four times a week in a gym somewhere,’ but like he worked with his hands for hours every day, gripping things or manhandling things.I had no idea, but his hands were strong and sure.
And sweet Jesus in Heaven!When he bent or crouched, I came close to passing out.His ass!That perfectly rounded, toned backside had seen its fair share of lunges and squats.
By lunchtime, I was fanning myself with a paper flyer from the bakery down the street, advertising a class on how to make apple turnovers from scratch.My door had been rehung, the hinges now shiny brass, the glass had been cleaned, and the locks had been replaced and upgraded.
“I’ll do the back door tomorrow,” Dixon said as he turned to face me.
I tried desperately to conceal a squeak when he lifted the hem of his T-shirt to wipe the sweat off his forehead, flashing me six perfectly formed abs and those tiny muscles on the sides of his ribcage—labs?Lats?Whatever they were, they rippled and popped as he lifted his arm, but then he dropped his shirt, bent, and grabbed his toolbox from the floor.He handed me my keyring, now jingling with new keys, nodded, and left, and I watched him walk across the street to Ace’s House, where he said he’d been hired as a handyman.And that was the last I saw of him until now.
He knocked on my door for the second time in twenty-four hours, and I rushed to answer it because when Dixon was around, I felt safer than I did without him.I knew it was him and not my creepy ex because I’d heard him pull up, and when I looked out my window, I saw him getting out of an old, black El Camino he’d parked behind my delivery van.
“Did you buy a car?”
“Yeah.”
“Interestin’ choice,” I said, nodding over his shoulder and giggling.
“Don’t you make fun of me, Avery Jane Harlowe, or I’ll be forced to remind you that you used to make flower garlands for forest animals and draw hearts around all your boo-boos with a scented marker ’cause you thought the hearts would help you heal faster.”
“That’s fair.Come in,” I offered, opening my door wide and stepping back as he entered.I closed the door behind him and locked it tight.“Would you like somethin’ to drink?Coffee, tea?”
“What kinda tea you got?”
“Peppermint or Earl Gray.”
