Page 17 of Like Home
“Summer Evans? Isn’t she still with Jared?” Victor asks.
“Nah. She and Jared ended things pretty recently, I think. I work with him and overheard him talking about getting an apartment a while ago,” Chris replies.
Victor looks at me, eyebrows raised, “You sure you want to go after someone who just got out of a relationship? You know she has a kid too, right?”
“Yeah, I know. I fixed her roof at the beginning of the week. I’m actually going over there tomorrow to make sure it held up through the rain. She had a picture of all of them in her living room.” I take a sip of my water to give myself time to think over my next words. “As far as going for her, I’m not actively pursuing her. I’m just testing the waters and seeing what happens.” I shrug, hoping I come off casual. I know it isn’t rational how much I’m already into her, but I can’t stop myself.
“So how do you like being in construction?” Chris asks, eventually. “My dad was a project manager for years before he retired. He always talks about how much he enjoyed it but I remember lots of bitching when I was growing up.”
“I like it a lot. I’ve always liked working with my hands and just couldn’t picture myself behind a desk full-time. My old man was a contractor, and when I was a teenager, I worked with him sometimes on the weekends to make a little extra money. I learned that I had an affinity for it and eventually pursued my own license. It’s nice to do different stuff every day. Don’t get me wrong, it canbe really frustrating too, and there’s always rude clients, but overall it’s good.”
I don’t mention it, because I don’t know these guys very well yet, but I feel a huge sense of pride in following in my dad's footsteps. He is one of the most hardworking, down-to-earth people I know, and anything I can do to emulate him is worth doing.
When I was floundering around after high school, he was the one to bring up getting into construction. I had never been great at school and couldn’t see myself sitting inside an office all day, so I started an apprenticeship with him. I wasn’t the best protege at first. I always wanted to screw around and thought I could get away with it because my old man was my boss, but he set me straight pretty quickly.
He made me meet him in his office one day after I ditched work and said, “Son, you are in charge of your life now. What you do with it and the choices you make are your own. That’s one of the great privileges of adulthood, but it’s also one of the scariest things about adulthood. You have to make the choices that are in your best interest because from now on, no one else is responsible for you. Make the choices that, in thirty years, you’ll look back on and thank yourself for.”
He then said much less eloquently that I needed to get my head out of my ass. He was right. I spent the next few years with my nose to the grindstone learning everything I could and taking any classes I needed to to round out what my father couldn’t teach me. Before he retired, I felt ready to go it alone.
“So, tell me, what’s with Anthony?” I ask, wanting to change the subject to something I’ve been wondering about. “That guy was staring daggers at me when I walked Summer out of the store the other day.”
Luke informs me that Anthony, along with a woman named Sherry, are the two biggest gossips in town. They frequently swap information like trading cards, in a competition with themselves over who has the juiciest piece of news. It then gets spreadthrough town by word of mouth, since they both see a lot of folks on the daily. Which explains why Mrs. Webber asked me about Summer seemingly out of the blue when I was installing their new lights. Thankfully I gave a diplomatic answer about her leaking roof and diverted her attention.
I shake my head, a little blown away that the whole “small town gossip mill” is a real and active thing. What have I gotten myself into?
CHAPTER 12
Summer
Iwake up at 7:30 on Saturday morning to the sun shining through my curtains and a text from Ryan asking if nine works for him to stop by. I shoot him a quick reply confirming the time before hopping out of bed and into the shower. I try not to think too closely about why I’m making sure every inch of me is smooth, going over my legs a few times with the razor to catch stray hairs.
I apply some product to my damp hair and leave it to air dry, preferring the natural waves to the curling iron I subject my hair to most work days. I stare at my closet, daunted by the task of picking out an outfit.
On Saturdays, I typically stick to sweats and an oversized t-shirt if I have nowhere to be. But since a cute contractor will be seeing me today, I want to look a little more put together. I just really feel the need to upgrade from “drowned rat.”
I settle on a pair of light-wash mom jeans and a cropped, loose-fitting t-shirt that ends just at the high waist. The jeans are just tight enough around the waist and butt to accentuate my figure without making me feel like a sausage stuffed into a too-small casing. After a minor debate with myself, I opt forsome light makeup and leave my room before I can second-guess everything.Jeez, Summer. He’s helping you with repairs, not taking you on a date.
I head into the kitchen and make a half pot of coffee, wanting to have extra in case Ryan wants a cup. I pick up my current read,Ghosted,and sit down in the breakfast nook while I wait for the coffee to brew. Just as the spirit-seeing Rae and her newly deceased Tinder date run into each other for the first time since he died, the coffee machine beeps letting me know it’s ready. As I pour myself a cup, I wonder if having a ghost for a boyfriend wouldn’t be so bad. Kinda hot if you ask me. They have that brooding smolder automatically built-in with the whole being dead thing.
I sit down, ready to pick up where I left off in my book when there’s a knock at the door. I look outside through the tangle of flowers planted in the window boxes and see Ryan’s silver truck parked by the curb. Ryan is my kind of guy: Not only on time, but a hair early. “Come on in!” I call.
I close the book, inserting my favorite bookmark that Emma made me out of construction paper and glitter glue before meeting Ryan’s striking green eyes as he walks into my kitchen. The sight of him in his dark jeans and light-blue shirt nearly knocks the breath out of me. He smiles, seemingly unaware of the effect he has on me, and leans against the island. “Hey, Summer. Good morning so far?”
“No complaints, but it’s only nine AM. The day is young,” I reply as I stand. “Want some coffee?” I’m trying to hide how flustered I feel after our last interaction. Luckily, Ryan doesn’t seem to pick up on my awkwardness.
“Oh, sure.” He sets his tool bag on the floor by the wall and comes to take the mug I poured. He adds some sugar and takes a sip. “So, what are you reading?”
I blush, crossing my arms. “Just a book. I read a lot to pass the time.”
“Well obviously it’s a book,” he chuckles, “What’s it about?” He leans against the counter again, mug in hand.
“You can’t laugh, okay?” He nods sagely, so I hesitantly continue, “It’s a romance about a girl who sees ghosts. Everyone she tells thinks she’s a freak, so she eventually just stops telling people. Then, she meets a guy on Tinder that she really likes. They go on a date, but he dies the next day in a freak accident, and then they meet again when he’s a ghost. It’s calledGhostedbecause she thought he ghosted her after their date. She realizes weeks later what happened to him. That’s as far as I’ve gotten,” I shrug, “I know it’s not, like, Dostoyevsky, but I like to read fun books with happily ever afters. I want an escape when I read.” I realize how nice it is to talk to someone about my books who genuinely seems interested. I can always talk to Steph, but I usually keep it to myself since she’s not a huge romance reader.
To my surprise, he says, “I don’t even know who that person is, but I get what you mean. It’s the same reason people watch TV or sports. They just want to step outside themselves and their lives for a bit. Sounds like an interesting book. I’m not much of a reader myself, but maybe you can tell me the highlights after you read it.” I blink.
Is he implying he wants to see me again? Or is he teasing me and I’m just not getting it?
“You don’t think it’s dumb?” I ask, baldly.
