Page 11 of Make Mine Sweet
She makes a sound of irritation. “You’re no fun. So what’s going on with him that Amy asked you to draw him out?”
“Nothing obvious.” Although I know better than most that you don’t have to look sick to have a serious illness.
“Could it be PTSD? Wasn’t one of Amy’s relatives in the military? She has so many cousins and whatnot who’ve stopped through. It’s hard to keep track.”
“I don’t know. If he was, he’s abandoned the clean-cut look.” I won’t mention that he’s already influenced my son to grow facial hair as soon as he’s able. “Have you seen a guy with long red hair and a bushy beard around town?”
“No! You mean it’shim? I’ve only seen him a couple of times, but…wow. Okay. I’m starting to understand why you had a crush on him.”
“What? How is that your takeaway?”
“Because he’s hot! In a rakish pirate kind of way.”
I say nothing. I definitely don’t think about how perfectly that description fits Ian. Or picture him giving orders at the helm of a ship. Looks mean nothing.
Even surprisingly good looks.
“You’re safe living next door to the guy though, right?” Her voice goes hard, like she’s ready to come over here and bust his head if she needs to.
“Nothing about him feels sketchy, just…off-putting.” Like a prickly cactus you can’t get too close to. Or those brightly colored frogs that are chock full of venom. His whole personality is a neon sign that saysDo not touch.
“Which is why Amy wants you to befriend him.”
“Exactly.” I probably shouldn’t have revealed so much to Wren, but she’d had a thousand questions for me when I told her I was finally moving out. I had to give her a little information or she’d burst into flames.
She’s quiet for a moment. “Do you want me to come over and spend the night? Just so it won’t be as weird for you? I can bring a sleeping bag and stay on the couch.”
“Aww. You don’t have to do that. You’re going to have your own place soon anyway. Save the sleepover for when it’syourplace.”
“Ugh. Mom’s going to flip when we’re both gone.”
“I know.” After our dad left us almost twenty years ago, Mom cinched Wren and me closer to her. At first, it was comforting—we had each other’s backs no matter what. But now that we’re adults, that closeness is becoming a too-tight belt around us we’re struggling to loosen. “How is she tonight?”
“She said a few times she hopes this isn’t too much for you to handle. Sighed a lot. No tears.”
Maureen Krause doesn’t sob over her regrets. She throws herself into action. She doesn’t agree with my choice to get a place for August and me—she thinks we need our little village to raise this child—but she hasn’t interfered, either. She even offered to help us unpack after the bakery closed tonight, but I wanted to do this on my own.
“But don’t worry,” Wren says. “I’m sure she’ll be relieved when she finds out about your hottie pirate next door.”
“You’re not going to tell her about that.” I didn’t mention Amy’s reduced rent to Mom, and I sure didn’t tell her about needing to be nice to a strange man as part of the package. She absolutely would have interfered if she’d known that little detail.
“No, no. Not me.” Wren’s gloating is limitless. “But how long until August tells her?”
I sag against the couch. Mom’s definitely going to find out about the hottie pirate next door.
FIVE
IAN
My arm’s startingto ache, but I toss a tennis ball across my back yard for the thousandth time. Also for the thousandth time, Dutch tears across the grass to grab it and trots on back. He could easily do this for hours, and today, I’m indulging him.
It’s my way of making it up to him for not letting him play with the kid next door.
Each evening since they moved in, August’s done his own tearing around in the yard we share. Dutch has whined at the door every time, ready to abandon me for the kid in a heartbeat. But I’m not totally convinced Tess approves of her son playing with my dog, so I’ve avoided the situation entirely.
If that keeps me from having to speak with Tess again, so much the better. I’ve got a feeling any little interaction with her will stick in my head, and I don’t need the distraction.
Dutch drops the slobbery tennis ball at my feet, ready for more. Yeah. It’s important to keep my focus.
