Page 75 of This Time Around
“The last time I heard you sound this excited was when you bought that silly gold Corvette.”
“It’s not a Corvette, it’s a Jaguar.” Wade looked pained. “And it’s not gold, it’s Spacedust—a custom color—so it was worth the excitement.”
“And is Skye?”
“If you must know, my excitement about Skye makes the Jag excitement seem like one of those party favors that you blow and the little paper thing comes out flat and just flops around.” He frowned. “I think I might have lost something in that metaphor.”
Allie stopped at the door to the back deck and studied her friend. “Wow. You’re not kidding, are you? You’ve got it bad.”
He shook his head and held up his hand. “As God is my witness, I think I’m in love.”
“Holy shit.”
He grinned. “I know, right?”
She shook her head, trying to get a handle on this. “You’ve known her less than twenty-four hours.”
“When you know, you just know.”
The sincerity in his voice made her heart swell. For him, for Skye, for love in general. Crazy or not, Wade was sincere. She couldn’t help but be happy for him.
When Allie and Wade had dated, they’d never just known, not even when they’d gotten engaged. It had seemed like a reasonable next step—two attractive, well-educated young adults with lawyer parents and the same ideas about how life should unfold. It had seemed like a good idea at the time.
“I’m happy for you,” Allie said. “Really, I am.”
Wade grinned. “Thank you.”
“Now let’s go scare some damn woodpeckers.”
“Right.”
She pushed the door open, half expecting him to retreat back into the house, but he followed her outside instead. The air was crisp and a little muggy, and the smell of damp leaves swirled thick in the air. Birds chattered around them, but the cheerful twittering had ceased to sound cheerful to Allie. Several birds sat scattered through a nearby oak tree, and Allie glared at them, wondering which of the little assholes was responsible for the latest round of destruction to her grandma’s house.
She set the boom box on the picnic table and switched it on.
“So explain to me what you’re doing,” Wade said. “How is a vintage ghetto-blaster going to get rid of woodpeckers?”
“I’m hoping to scare them away with loud music.”
“This is really your best idea?”
“No,” she muttered as she began to turn the dial. “My best idea was the fake owls, but the little assholes just pecked holes in their faces.”
“Ouch.”
“Then I tried pinwheels. And streamers.”
“I thought it was looking rather festively tacky around here.”
Allie glared. “It’s time to step things up a little.”
She cranked up the volume on the boom box. There was a clatter of static, followed by the high-decibel blare of a DJ’s voice.
“You’re listening to Portland Sex Radio, and today we’re going to be talking about polyamory, the Portland orgy scene, and the six kinds of orgasms you should be having right now.”
Allie smacked her hand on the volume lever and glanced at the neighboring houses. No sign of anyone stirring at the sound of high-decibel porn, but it wasn’t worth taking chances. She spun the dial to change the station.
“Hey,” Wade protested. “I wanted to hear that.”
