Page 22 of This Time Around
“Skye is the caretaker,” she said. “The one my grandma hired to look after the place. And a catio is?—”
“A patio for cats?”
“Bingo, smart guy.”
Jack grinned. “We college dropouts have some smarts.”
“I thought you went back and got your degree.”
“I did. But I don’t recall learning about catios or home repairs.”
Allie smiled at him, and Jack felt something stir in the center of his chest. He hadn’t expected to remember much about the house, but standing here in the entry filled him with an odd sense of nostalgia. He’d only been here a couple times, but he recognized the familiar patina of the alder wainscoting and the tinted slabs of sunlight tumbling through the parlor windows onto a piano Allie’s grandmother used to play. He remembered her belting out bawdy show tunes after a few glasses of sherry one Thanksgiving. Allie’s father had hustled in to try and quiet her down, but there was no stopping Victoria Ross.
“Do you remember coming here with me for Thanksgiving that one year?”
Jack looked at her, wondering if she’d read his thoughts. “Yeah, I remember,” he said. “Our freshman year in college. We were supposed to alternate between your family one year and mine the next. My mom’s still pissed she never got her turn.”
“Really?”
“Not really. But she did tell me to invite you over for dinner when she heard I was coming here.”
That wasn’t all his mom had said, but Jack figured it was best not to share. When he’d told her about helping Allie out with this place, a familiar crease had formed between his mother’s brows.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” she’d asked, glancing down the hall to where Paige was busy organizing supplies for her first day at her new school on Monday. “After everything she put you through?—”
“That was a long time ago, Mom.”
“I know, but it still had an effect on you. First your father abandoned us, and then Allie left. Between that and Caroline passing away, I just worry about you setting yourself up for more heartache.”
“Relax,” he’d told her, planting a kiss on her cheek before turning to grab his tool belt. “I’m nailing up some loose decking, not nailing her up against a wall.
He’d only said it to make his mom laugh and swat him with a dish towel. But seeing Allie now in a pink V-neck sweater and jeans that made her ass look like a dream, he couldn’t pretend it didn’t cross his mind.
“I always liked your mom,” Allie said, which kinda killed the sexy thoughts Jack had been having.
“My mom liked you, too. She thought you were a good influence on me.”
“And mine thought you were determined to corrupt her innocent angel.”
“She was right.” He grinned. “Which is why my daughter isn’t dating until she’s thirty.”
Allie laughed. “Good luck with that.”
Jack looked around the parlor, a little amazed by all the ramps and cat perches built along the walls and all the way up to the ceiling. Cat beds jutted out from each window, even the ones twelve feet off the ground. It was an impressive feat of engineering; he’d give it that.
“So,” he said. “Where do you want to start?”
“I guess I can give you a quick tour of the place,” she said. “I don’t imagine you remember much from sixteen years ago.”
“I remember plenty.” He didn’t realize until the words left his mouth that it sounded more meaningful than he’d intended. Like a commentary on how they used to be together, which wasn’t what he meant at all. Or was it? “But I’m sure tons of things have changed over the years,” he added. “About the house, I mean.”
“True,” she agreed, holding his gaze for a moment before turning to walk down the hall.
She spent the next hour leading him around the grand old home while a parade of cats followed behind, mewling and occasionally snarling at one another. Jack followed along, taking notes while Allie pointed out warped spots in the myrtlewood moldings in the guest rooms and patches of sagging drywall in one of the guest baths. Most of it was cosmetic and fairly easy to repair. All things considered, the place wasn’t in the poor condition Jack had expected.
Several times he stopped to take measurements or poke at a loose piece of trim. Each time, Allie bent low over him. It gave him a nice glimpse down the front of the pink sweater, which was even more pleasant than the rear view she offered as she led him down hallways and up stairwells.
You agreed to be friends, he reminded himself. Friends don’t ogle friends.
