Page 51 of Barefoot Lake

“Then, by all means, come on in!”

She watches me as I pass her, and I can’t help but look over my shoulder to keep my eyes on her another second longer. Once she shuts the door, I take off my shoes and set them beside hers under the bench behind the door. It’s a little thing, but I like seeing them side by side.

I move further into the house and pull a rag from my back pocket. I unfold it and set my toolbox on it on the table before flipping open the lid. Grabbing a screwdriver and a mallet, I kneel on the floor beside the oven. I give the right side of the warming drawer a swift hit with the side of my fist and slide it open.

“How’d you know?”

I look up and see Alice with her hip leaning against the countertop, arms and ankles crossed, eyes trained on me.

“This house has been like a hydra for as long as I can remember. Fix one thing and two more suddenly decide to stop working. This drawer has been playing the game for years. Rain never thought taking the drawer apart to fix it properly was worthwhile. So, it would eventually fall back out of alignment no matter how many times I smacked it. It’d have been a better investment to just get a new oven ages ago, but as long as it keeps fighting, so will I.” I laugh because my nemesis is an oven drawer. “It’s the principle of the thing, and now I’m going to rip it apart and straighten the track properly.”

“Honorable even when it comes to an oven. You’re a strange man, Jake…”

She pauses, and I look up at her. Her brow is furrowed.

“Wait, how do I not know your last name?”

“You know, it’s been a long time since there was something about me that somebody in this town didn’t know. This is kind of nice.” I work on disconnecting the drawer from the track it attempts to slide on so I can whack the pieces straight again.

“You know, I could always ask literally anybody and find out. Or I could just snoop through your mail.”

“You could, but there’s no need.” I glance up at her again. “I have no desire to keep things from you. It’s Preston.”

“Jake Preston.” She smiles sweetly like she’s enjoying the feel of my name on her lips. I immediately decide that I do, too. I remember her saying it like a prayer when we kissed the other night and wonder how it would be to hear her scream it.

Get a hold of yourself, Jake.

I sharply turn my focus back to the oven drawer. Now that I’ve detached the drawer completely, I lean forward to peer into the cavern below the oven and evaluate the janky drawer track within. It’s dusty, and the air is stale. I concentrate on how entirely unsexy an oven is to keep my thoughts from drifting to Alice and my desire to pull my name and other sounds from her.

“What’s the verdict, doc?” Alice’s voice is playful, exuding simple happiness. It makes me want to play, too. To let go just a little bit.

“Definitely a demon.” I shift the mallet into my left hand and employ some expert percussive maintenance to persuade the track back into a straight line. “But I think we can handle it.”

“Can I help?” Alice goes to push off the counter, but I give a casual wave over my shoulder.

“This one should be good… for now.” I reassemble the drawer and stand, brushing off my knees and moving to stand in front of her. “Next?”

“You’re going to regret offering your services,” she says with a devilish grin. She pulls her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans and opens the notes app to one labeled “The House’s Charm.” The list of bullet points on her screen is amusingly long.

We begin to work our way through the list, one by one: something in the ice maker rattles, the lock on the study window is extremely sticky, and the water pressure in the downstairs sink is abysmal.

I try my hardest to stay focused on each project, but it’s nearly impossible with Alice so close. She’s curious and interested, and I feel her everywhere – when she leans over me to point at whatever I’m fixing while she asks a question, when her squeal of delight fills the room after we triumph over the house, when she places a casual hand on my forearm, lighting up my nerve endings like Fourth of July fireworks.

Every part of her is energetic, making every part of me feel alive. She’s eager to help, to learn, and to praise. When Alice focuses on you, she gives you her all, and I’m flying high as the object of that attention. I keep my hands busy to help resist the urge to wrap them around her waist and haul her against me so I can worship her the way she deserves. I want her, but more than that, I want to wait until she’s ready for that. Being in her presence is enough, even if I’m a walking live wire.

After I reinforce the wobbly banister, Alice looks up the stairs and pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. I raise my eyebrows to encourage her to identify the next project.

“The sliding closet door won’t stay on its tracks.” She pauses for just a moment. “… in my bedroom.”

She immediately blushes, and I feel a spark of hope that I’m not the only one here who is maybe struggling to keep control tethered. I step aside and hold out my arm to direct her up the stairs.

“After you.”

Picking up the toolbox that has moved around the house with us, I go after her. I realize my mistake the second I turn. She’s a few steps ahead of me, and her ass is nearly at eye level.

As I follow her upstairs, I think of the feel of her in my hands. I force myself to look down and start mentally reciting the states in alphabetical order.

I can’t get past Connecticut.