Page 12 of Seasoned
“Perfect. Now into the oven.” Adelaide opened the door and Renee slipped in the baking sheet.
“I give it two weeks,” Jackie said with confidence, lifting her glass to her lips again.
“You give what two weeks?” Renee asked.
“Two weeks until Mr. Handyman gets in those panties.”
Renee laughed out loud. “And why would I let him in my panties when there hasn’t been anyone near this area”—she made a circle in front of her pelvis—“in almost a year?”
If she were going to succumb, it wouldn’t be to her neighbor. They were tolerating each other for now, but who knew how long that would last?
“Because, my dear, you can pretend all you want that you’re just being nice to the neighborhood handyman, but I’ve known you too long and I can see right through you. You’ve been without for a while, and Clive is an attractive man. He’s in your house, being all manly and helpful.” Jackie shivered. “And he has you baking cookies.”
“He doesn’t have me doing anything,” Renee shot back, annoyed. “It’s a payment for services rendered. Can you believe her?” She turned to Adelaide, who silently watched the exchange with a faint smile on her face. “Not you, too, Adelaide?”
Her friend shrugged. “I have to agree, I think you’re going to give in. I’m not saying you’re going to marry him, but Jackie’s right—you’re baking him cookies, for goodness’ sake.”
“They’re not just for him. His granddaughter likes chocolate chip cookies, too.”
“Mmm-hmm. But you’re not baking them for her, now are you?” Jackie arched a brow.
Warmth heated Renee’s chest and cheeks. She didn’t want to admit it, but her friends were right. There was something about Clive that made this baking exercise seem not only like a nice thing to do, but something she simply wanted to do.
Seatedat the breakfast table in the kitchen, Clive rewound the tape.
“I’d prefer for you to do it, to be honest. I’m not knowledgeable about that kind of thing, and if you don’t mind…”
Renee’s voice was pleasant to listen to, and the smile she’d given him after speaking those words had tightened his stomach muscles and he’d had to fight the urge to kiss her. Bonus, she kept a clean house. Cleanliness was a big deal for him, and Renee didn’t seem to have any problem with that.
“Morning, Dad.”
Clive started guiltily and shut off the recorder.
Chelsea yawned as she entered the room, having clearly rolled out of bed only moments before. Her dirty-blonde hair was a rumpled mess with the wavy curls going in every direction, and she still wore her striped pajamas.
“Good morning, hon.”
She poured herself a cup of coffee. “Last night was rough. After closing, we had to stock the shelves with the shipment that came in earlier during the day that the first shift hadn’t completed. I swear, I don’t know why they’re on payroll. They never complete their work and then we have to do it.” She rolled her shoulders and grimaced.
In addition to working as a cashier supervisor at a department store, she worked three nights a week at a locally-owned hardware store. He’d told her on more than one occasion she didn’t have to put in all that work. The house was paid for, thanks to the insurance policy after Margaret died, he had his retirement, and the odd jobs he worked from time to time. But his daughter was proud, and maybe a little bit ashamed that she hadn’t listened to his warnings and had to move back home after the sperm donor went to jail.
Clive stood and took his dirtyWorld’s Greatest Grandpamug to the sink.
“What are you doing today while Margie and I are gone?” Chelsea asked.
She had a whole day planned. She was driving across the bridge to Coronado Island where she and Margie would go to the beach, have pizza for lunch, and then she was renting bikes for them to take a self-guided tour. His granddaughter hadn’t stopped talking about their plans since yesterday when Chelsea announced them.
“I’m going next door to take care of a few extra projects for Renee.”
“Oh, that’s nice. I’m glad to see the two of you getting along for a change. Did you charge her regular price or a premium because of her attitude?” she asked with a snicker.
“Actually, I’m not charging her.”
“Oh.”
He could feel his daughter’s gaze on the back of his head as he finished washing the cup. Clive wiped his hands in a towel and faced her. “What?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all.” Chelsea smirked and lifted the coffee mug to her lips.
