Page 8 of The Summer Dare
As much as I wish my job had worked out in Boston this summer, I’m glad I’m able to help fill the void of my uncle Frank retiring earlier this year. I know for a fact my dad needs me, even if it means I don’t get to travel as much as I’d hoped.
Just as I hop onto the deck to take off more siding, the door to the house swings open and Lanie comes out carrying a bag for the beach and a lawn chair over her shoulder. “Oh, hey there, I didn’t see you.”
“I took a call in my truck.”
“Well, I’ve got a date with the sand, the waves, and my book.” Turning to lock the door, she smiles. “I’ve locked up, but the alarm’s not set, if you need anything inside.”
Then she rolls her eyes and smirks—as if she thinks she’s just gotten the last word.
What a smartass. Two can play this game.
Not wanting to show she’s affecting me, I nod once and reply, “I’m taking off around four. If I don’t see you, enjoy your first official day of summer.”
As I walk by, she pats me on the arm. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Ryan. Even if you did scare the piss out of me. Now that I know you’re here, I promise to keep my weapons stowed.”
So that’s how she wants to play it.
“Good to know. I’ll be ready, should you come charging at me again.”
The vixen winks. “Somebody’s gotta keep you on your toes.”
Then she bounces down the stairs and along the path that heads to the shore. Once again, I’m left staring at her for muchlonger than I care to admit, as she crests over the grassy sand dune and disappears behind it.
I’m not sure what’s gotten into me, but for the first time since returning from Boston, I’m looking forward to coming to work tomorrow.
Since it’s justme again on the job, and I promised Lanie I wouldn’t run any power tools until eight, I don’t bother showing up until seven-thirty. One of the perks of managing my own crew is setting my own hours. Though I’d rather get the job started and be done with my day, I stop for some coffee at one of the drive-thru stands on my way to work.
Unloading the scaffolding near the deck, I decide I’ll tackle the top of the weathered wall I’d started yesterday. I managed to clear everything under the eave, but I can’t wait any longer to do the top.
Just as I set the last bit of frame alongside the house, a blood-curdling scream comes from within.
Holy shit. That’s Lanie.
Racing around the side of the house, I jump up the steps and I’m at the door in no time, where the screams only get louder.
“Stop… Oh, shit… NO… NO… NO!!!”
What the fuck?
Without knocking, I reach for my key and have the door opened in seconds.
“Lanie?” I holler, breaching the house.
“In here…” comes a desperate cry.
It takes all of two steps inside to witness the fiasco ensuing.
What the fuck?
Lanie’s ineffectively holding a towel in front of her to keep the water from spraying herself as well as the entire kitchen. Oh, shit, the faucet’s broken at the handle and the water’s hitting her at full force.
Springing into action, I’m careful not to slip as I scurry to turn off the water at the cutoff valve. The sink is fairly new, but the plumbing underneath isn’t. Christ, this sucker won’t budge.
“Hang on!” I holler as I dart outside to grab a wrench from my toolbox and try again.
“This fucker doesn’t wanna move,” I grunt in frustration as water continues to assault the room from above.
Trying a new angle, I use the full force of my weight until finally—it turns.
