Page 9 of Seasoned
“Absolutely.” Her fingers crawled up the front of her throat.
She had pretty hands with short fingernails painted a champagne-brown color. He wanted those hands exploring his chest, running down his thighs, scraping his back.
“Any word from the police regarding the burglars?” Clive asked, voice sounding unnaturally tight.
“Nothing. The detective assigned to my case was very candid and said the chances of catching them was small, but they’d keep working on it.” She edged farther away. “Other homes nearby have been broken into in a similar fashion—in broad daylight, kicking in the back door and grabbing whatever they could in a rush, so they think it’s the same men.”
“Hope they catch them.”
“Me, too.” Renee rubbed her hands together.
“You know, I noticed there are a few other things that needed to be done around the house. A couple of your siding boards are loose. I could fix those for you and seal them to make sure they don’t leak. One of the planks on your deck doesn’t seem quite sturdy, and I could replace that too. You know, if you like. If there’s anything else you need fixing, I could take care of that, as well.”
“You’ve done enough already. I wouldn’t feel right bothering you with more tasks.”
“It’s no bother. The work will keep me busy, to be honest. Now that I’m retired, I don’t have much to do except the occasional odd job.”
“How much would that cost?” she asked.
“On the house.”
“I should pay you,” she insisted.
He didn’t want her money, but he did have an idea. “How about you pay me in a different way?” Her eyebrows flew higher and he laughed. “No, nothing like that.” Though he wouldn’t be opposed if she offered. “I happen to love chocolate chip cookies.”
Margie gasped, looking up from playing with her dolls. “I love chocolate chip cookies! Grandma used to make the best ones.”
Clive grinned, remembering how the entire house would be filled with the scent of the sweets whenever his wife baked. “She’s right. My late wife loved to bake, and her chocolate chip cookies were the best. They never lasted more than a couple of days—sometimes not even that long.” He laughed.
“How long has she been gone?” Renee asked gently.
“Four years.” Clive brushed away the sympathy in her eyes with a wave of his hand. “We had twenty-six wonderful years together, and I’ve had plenty of time to grieve and accept that she’s gone.”
He’d had a hard time at first—a very hard time. The love and perseverance of good friends and his daughter had helped him out of a two-year depression that had sucked the life out of him. Finally, he’d made the difficult decision to sell the house he and his wife had lived in and buy the one next to Renee, allowing himself to start over and heal in the process. He still missed Margaret, but he’d learned to accept her death and cherish the time they’d spent together.
“So, about those chocolate chip cookies—think you can manage that? There’s a bakery not too far from here that has some really good ones.” He gave her the name of the place.
“Chocolate chip cookies in exchange for home repairs? That’s quite a deal. I can handle that,” Renee said.
“Excellent. Anything else you need done around here?”
“One little thing. I bought two fans, and they’ve been sitting in the garage the past couple of weeks. I was going to hire someone to install one in my bedroom and the other in here. If you could take care of that for me…”
“Consider it done. I’ll come back on Saturday morning and install them both and work on the other items. I have to meet a friend for lunch, but let me know if there’s anything else you need. I don’t mind.” His voice dropped lower at the end.
Renee licked her lips and his dick jumped. “I will, and I’ll do my part and have those cookies for you.”
Clive looked down at his granddaughter. “All right, Margie, our work here is done. Let’s head home.”
“Okay, Grandpa.”
She gathered up her dolls in a little carrying case and then Renee escorted them to the front.
“Do you like scrambled eggs?” Renee asked at the door.
“Excuse me?”
“Do the two of you like scrambled eggs?”
