Page 74 of Lake
I looked both ways before I crossed the road to Mr. Watkins’ house even though there was never any traffic out here.
“Should I be worried?” she asked as I pulled her up the rickety stairs.
“Always,” I replied with a wink.
After three solid knocks, I turned the handle and opened the door, then dragged her behind me.
I knew just where I’d find the old man, so I didn’t bother calling out.
“I changed it up,” he said as we hit the entrance to the kitchen.
He didn’t turn around as he spoke.
“I wanted pancakes,” he said and I could see him working on flipping one of them.
“I like pancakes,” Bridget said and lit the fuck up. “Though I don’t usually eat them in the morning.”
Mr. Watkins paused and slowly turned around.
His eyes landed on Bridget and a look of surprise overtook his face, the happy kind.
I could only smile.
“Hi. I’m Bridget. I have no idea why Lake woke me up at this horrible hour, but I’m glad he did.”
He hooted out a laugh.
“Ed,” he said returning his attention to the stove. “Nice to meet ya, girlie. Grab a cup of joe and make yourself at home.”
“Hey,” I said a little shocked. “How come you let her know your first name?”
Was it just me or did I sound like a whiny child?
“Because you never asked, boy. Always Mr. Watkins this and Mr. Watkins that. Now, I appreciate the manners and respect, but a lady always gets my first name.”
The fucker had the audacity to wink at me. Bridget laughed beside me and patted my chest.
Then she gave me the eye as she sauntered up to the counter where the coffee maker was. I slid in behind her and pulled open the cabinet where the mugs were tucked away.
“Choose wisely,” I whispered next to her ear as I reached for my favorite one.
She gave me a curious glance then moved to look at all the different choices.
Finally, she chose the one she wanted and pulled it out.
“There something to this?” she asked as I filled her mug and then mine.
Once the pancakes were done, we all filled up our plates. There was barely enough room to fit around his table but we made it work.
“Okay, old man,” I joked. “Go.”
“You’ve already heard this one,” he said eyeing my mug.
“Yeah, but she hasn’t,” I said with a wink that said I had him.
I loved his stories and didn’t mind one single bit hearing them again.
His wrinkly finger pointed at my mug but he was looking at Bridget, who I noticed was staring at him with wide eyes.
