Page 19 of The Broken Heart Playlist
We stare at one another and some kind of charge passes between us. I felt it in the library and I’m feeling it again now.
My stomach is doing that stupid, fluttery thing again, ignoring all the warning signals my brain is trying to transmit.
Lisset comes bounding down the hallway, edging past me to peer up at Gideon. “Where’s Uno?”
“Hello, Gideon,” I say pointedly.
“Hello, Gideon,” she repeats dutifully. “Where’s Uno?”
“Fast asleep,” he tells her. “Greyhounds spend most of the day sleeping.”
I raise my eyebrows. “I thought they were high-maintenance dogs.”
He shakes his head. “Giant couch potatoes. Uno needs one walk a day and then he spends the rest of the day recovering from it.”
Kind of like how I feel after social interactions.
Now that Gideon is without his four-legged companion, an uninterested Lisset wanders back into the house.
I don’t open my door all the way and I don’t invite Gideon in.
I suddenly remember that Janine was on the verge of telling me what she found strange about the sale of the Martinez house to Gideon. I never did find out what she was about to tell me, and my curiosity is piqued once again.
I haven’t seen much of Gideon since bumping into him at the library Thursday night. The only additional detail I’ve gathered about him is that he drives an army-green Jeep Wrangler. Otherwise, he seems to keep to himself. Until now.
“I’m about to mow my lawn,” he tells me. “While I’m at it, would you like me to mow yours?”
My eyes widen. He’s offering to mow my lawn? It’s winter so the grass isn’t growing fast, but it’s been a while since I cut it.
“I’m perfectly capable of mowing my own lawn.”
“I wasn’t implying otherwise.” His steady hazel eyes hold mine. “It’s just a neighborly gesture. No strings attached.”
He’s wrong. There are always strings attached. Most of the time, they’re invisible and you’re only made aware of them when the puppet master yanks them.
“Thanks for the offer, but I’ll get around to cutting it myself sometime.” I gesture vaguely to indicate a nebulous point in the future.
The corners of his mouth pull into a grin. “Your lawn could be a jungle by then. I might have to use a machete to reach your front door.”
At his playful tone, my face burns a little. I’m being rude. My parents raised me better than this. Anyway, why am I making such a big deal of his offer? If the man wants to mow my lawn, he can knock himself out.
“Since I’m not sure you own a machete,” I say, giving him the smallest of smiles, “I should probably take you up on your offer.”
His expression becomes quietly pleased. “A wise decision.”
“And you seem to really like mowing lawns.”
“The smell of freshly cut grass. All those clean lines. It’s the best therapy.”
“It seems cruel to deprive you of that.”
His gaze lingers on me. “And you don’t appear to be cruel.”
My smile slips a little. I try not to be, despite being coached by an expert. “Anyway, thanks for offering. I appreciate it.” His brow furrows as I ease the door closed. “Enjoy the rest of your Sunday.”
I leave Gideon to my lawn and rejoin Lisset in the dining room to finish our Monopoly game. It takes all my willpower not to look out the window and watch him while he cuts my grass.
That evening, Lisset’s asleep in bed and I’m in the shower when the tears come. They take me by surprise. It’s been months since I’ve cried. While Tess will literally sob at anything—animal rescue videos, romantic movies, sad songs—I’m not a crier. Which confuses and worries my sister, who maintains it’s normal and healthy to have that release.
