Fender Bender Blues Page 3
“Yes, your father has been bugging me for a week to make it for him.”
“That sounds so good.” Rach sighed, wishing she hadn’t already made plans with Leah. “I’ll be over in the morning for the car. Maybe you can follow me to the body shop and then I can take you home.”
There was an audible gasp and Rach pictured her mom clutching the front of her grease-spattered apple-print apron with chicken-goobered hands.
“I’m not driving that car,” she scoffed. There was another thwack. “I’ll send your father. He’s always looking for things to do.”
She was right. Rach’s dad was bored in retirement.
“The car’s really not that bad, Mom.”
“I’m sure that comment will please your father. I’ll pass it on. Will you be over for supper? I’m making cornbread,” she bribed. Enticing Rach with food always worked.
Reluctantly, Rach declined. “Not tonight, Mom. I’m supposed to meet Leah in thirty minutes and I still have to let Tally out to potty before I leave. Save me leftovers, though. I’ll see you tomorrow. Love you.”
She loped down the stairs and went to the kitchen closet, pulling out the necessary tools for doggy poo clean-up. Tally, her blonde golden retriever puppy, hopped around the kitchen, tail wagging a million miles an hour in anticipation of outside fun.
Rach tried for her most stern look. “Listen up, Tally. If we don’t want Mrs. Petska outside hounding us, you’d better be on your best behavior. That means no loud barking. You got that?”
Letting out a few sharp barks, she turned in excited circles and dropped her front legs to the floor, head low, ready to play.
“Well, that won’t do, you’ll need to tone it down a bit.” She opened the door to let Tally outside. “We’ll just make this real quick.”
Rach groaned when her golden retriever turned a circle and went full squat in Mrs. Petska’s front yard. For some reason the puppy had gotten into the habit of leaving her waste directly beneath a birdhouse hanging from the large elm in her neighbor’s yard. Though Mrs. Petska’s suggestion to send Tally to the backyard was reasonable, Rach hated to confine the carefree puppy in the tiny back yard with a patch of grass the size of a sofa.
The week before, Mrs. Petska had taken one look at a day-old pile of poop and hastened to pound on Rach’s front door, informing her, “The world isn’t one large shit hole for dogs!” And she was right. Rach was very diligent in cleaning up after the puppy, but on that particular morning she’d been late for an interview and left the task for later. After a disappointing day of job hunting, she’d forgotten about the mess. No amount of apologizing had calmed the woman and now Rach was in avoidance mode.
Crouching down, she swiftly scooped the still warm waste into the baggie, tying the knot in a clumsy rush. Rach planted a palm into the cold, damp grass, Mrs. Petska’s on-the-clock afternoon watering having just completed, and pushed to her feet. The bang of a door made her jump and she spun around. Mrs. Petska stormed outside with flushed cheeks. Gray hair stood up in stiff curls on the top of her head as if she’d been rudely interrupted from removing hot rollers. The woman shielded her eyes against the late afternoon sun, taking in the sight of Rach and Tally on her side of the lawn, uninvited.
Rach waved the pooper scooper and the warm baggie in the air to stop the lecture on the tip of Mrs. Petska’s tongue. “Got it, Mrs. Petska! Hope you’re having a great day!”
Then Rach rushed past the grumpy old woman standing in the middle of their adjoined porch. She shut the front door quickly so her neighbor wouldn’t have a chance to sneak in a complaint. Tally wandered off to the kitchen in search of dog food, and Rach called after her, “I feel like you don’t even appreciate what I go through, all in the name of your potty freedom!”
She dropped the bag of poop in the dumpster in the backyard then grabbed a light jacket off her coat stand by the front door. “I’ll be back in an hour. Don’t you dare chew on the coffee table while I’m gone.”
Chapter Four
Rach pulled to a hissing stop and stared in awe at the pale yellow two-story home sitting on the corner lot. Four white columns lined the front porch and a three-car garage stood off to the side, attached by a breezeway. The house of her dreams with a ridiculous price tag.
Inside, the marble foyer smelled of lemon-scented cleaner and fresh paint. She preferred lived-in homes smelling of chocolate chip cookies and potpourri, but this one didn’t need furnishings—she had no trouble picturing what it would look like if it were hers.
On the other end of the great room was a fireplace with a white marble mantel the width of a loveseat. On top and centered was a blue ceramic vase filled with bright yellow roses; the only décor in the room. Sunlight fell through large, seven-foot-tall windows and she decided even without seeing the other rooms that this one was her favorite.
After seeing this place, she’d never again be satisfied living in a tiny townhome duplex, separated by paper thin walls from an elderly woman who hated her dog.
Rach climbed the stairs to the second floor in search of Leah, whose blue SUV was parked at the curb. The charcoal gray Beemer in the driveway had to belong to Leah’s new love interest. Maybe she should look into selling real estate. Clearly the Beemer in the driveway was a testament to its potential.
The place was so quiet she didn’t want to call out for Leah, so she strolled from room to room, wondering who on Earth could afford a place like this. Not Leah, who had thrown most of her savings into the salon she opened the year before, and not Rach, who hadn’t held a steady job in months. She drifted down the stairs, trailing her hand along the oak banister, feeling the wood grain pass under her palm as she went.
She paused halfway down as the very man whose car she’d wrecked that morning stepped into the great room. He looked around, as if searching for something, until his gaze landed on Rach.
“You...Again.” Rach crossed her arms over her chest and gave him her most severe look.
“Yeah. Me...Again.” His expression softened to calm amusement and the corners of his lips twitched. Rach didn’t find the situation as humorous. That morning he’d been a jerk. This afternoon she wasn’t in the mood to put up with it. Unable to stop herself, she stomped down the rest of the stairs and stepped in front of him.
“Did you follow me?” she demanded and the amusement was stripped from his face, replaced by horrified indignation. If she hadn’t been trying to appear a hard-ass she would have cracked a smile, but this wasn’t the time to show weakness.
“What? No.” The deep voice she remembered so well from that morning dripped with astonishment. He peered at her, suspicious now. “Why are you here?”
“I was here first, so you answer first.” She glowered up at him and tried to ignore the intoxicating scent of his cologne. To emphasize her annoyance, she tapped her foot while waiting for an answer. He glanced down at her foot and his lips struggled against another smile. The fact he found her irritation amusing was infuriating. She pressed again, “So?”
After a moment, he shrugged. “I’m here to see the house.” His tone made it clear he wasn’t in the business of explaining himself to anyone, Rach included.
So he’s the kind of person who can buy a place like this. The expensive loafers on his feet told her he probably wouldn’t have any trouble replacing the car she’d wrecked earlier, either. Rach chewed over whether or not to ask him what he did for a living, just for future reference. It was never too late to go back to college. She’d been thinking about it all day after watching an advertisement for online schools, boasting the ease of earning a degree in pajamas.
Asking would only amuse him further, so she said nothing. Her ears perked when a woman, sounding a lot like Leah, giggled from somewhere on the other side of the house. Rach huffed past him in the direction of the hallway, her heels clicking as she stomped through the foyer. He fell into step behind her and she picked up the pace.
“So, did you hit anyone on the drive over?”
He snickered.
“Most of the time. You caught me on a bad morning.”
“You mean you never apply makeup while you’re driving? Just that once?”
She snapped her mouth shut and kept walking.
“That’s what I thought,” he replied with a sniff.
He followed in her wake, breathing down her neck the entire way. They entered the dining room and found Leah making out with a guy Rach had never seen before. She stopped short, surprised, and Angry Hot Guy ran into her back. Rach tripped forward and would have gone face first into the hand carved wood floor, but he grabbed her from behind, steadying her with strong hands that unsettled her as they gripped her arms. She glowered at him over her shoulder, but his eyes were glued to the lip-locked couple.
She yanked an arm loose and straightened her blouse. “Watch it, will you?”
“Who is that?” he asked and dropped his hands from her arms so he could step around her.
She pushed him aside with a hip check. “That’s my best friend. What’s it to you?”
His eyes widened in surprise. “That’s my brother.”
“Just perfect,” Rach mumbled. The couple was slow to untangle themselves, oblivious to their audience. Rach walked over to Leah, tapped her on the shoulder and cleared her throat. “Um, Leah?”
Dazed, Leah asked, “Huh?”
Rach looked up at the guy whom Leah had spoken of all week. He was staring down at Leah in rapt adoration.
“You must be Rick. It’s nice to meet you, really. But I need to borrow Leah for a quick second. I hope you don’t mind.” Without waiting for a response, she nudged Leah toward the door. Rick was dreamy eyed—like Leah—and didn’t object, but a few steps toward the door, Leah snapped out of her trance and planted her feet to the ground and wouldn’t budge.
“You must be Rick’s brother.” Leah smiled shyly back and forth between the brothers.
“I am,” he drawled and rocked back on his heels with his hands in his trouser pockets. The look of amusement Rach had seen on his face earlier had returned. “Rick didn’t tell me he was...inviting a friend?”
“Craig, this is Leah. Leah, Craig,” Rick introduced.
Craig. Her brain absorbed the name of the man who’d put up another road block to a stress-free life. She should have noted his name from the insurance card, but since he’d promised to call in the accident, Rach hadn’t given his card another thought.
Craig stared at her, as if challenging her to say something. She fought the urge to cross her eyes and stick out her tongue. “Knock it off.”
He shrugged. “Knock what off?”
“You know what,” she shot back.
His grin widened. “I really don’t. Is this about your driving?”
Rach’s attempt to stare him down didn’t work so she turned to Leah. “Could I talk to you for a minute outside?”
Leah raised curious brows. “Sure, of course.”
Craig shifted his attention to Rick and said cheerfully, “Ready for the tour when you are. Love this house already.”
Rach tugged on Leah’s hand and headed for the door, this time with no resistance from Leah. “Let’s get out of here—this house has…ugly shingles.” Not true, even the shingles were perfect.
He shook his head. “Nah, I checked the shingles out before I came inside—they look great. I think I’ll buy this place.”
“Whatever,” she muttered and stalked past him, dragging Leah’s unwilling body out of the room. From the hallway, Rach called out, “I hope the roof leaks!”
“Wow, what was that all about?” Leah asked as Rach hurried them down the hallway to the foyer.
“That,” Rach said once they stepped out onto the front porch, “was Angry Hot Guy.”
Leah blinked. “The guy you hit this morning?”
“No!” Leah winced at Rach’s high-pitched denial. Lowering her voice, Rach said, “He hit me.”
“I thought you said you hit him? I’m confused.”
“Uh-uh, he hit me.” She had replayed the accident over and over in her mind since that morning. “The more I think about it, I am positive he’s to blame. Technically he ran into the side of my car, not the other way around.” She grabbed Leah by the shoulders and gave her a small shake. “It was that guy in there! He wrecked my car!”
Leah’s eyes grew wide and she whispered, “It’s fate.”
“What? No it’s not.” She waved her hand in front of Leah’s face to get her full attention. She was starting to drift into la-la land. “Let’s not start talking about that predestined baloney.” To believe in it would mean Rach was destined to be an unemployed loser who’d failed at social work. No way. She shook her head firmly and insisted, “Bad luck, that’s what this is. I’ve been having a lot of it lately.”
“You call it luck, I call it fate.” Leah’s grin was triumphant.
Ignoring Leah’s fate-bait, she glanced around the neighborhood, searching for an eyesore that would irritate the hell out of Craig when the house became his permanent residence. No such luck, the street was perfection.
Cheesed, she frowned. “Our little accident ruined my whole day and I took a job from a kid who’s probably not old enough to vote. I’ll be spending my days with a pimply teenager making copies. Oh, and I’ll be driving my dad’s car until mine’s fixed.”
“Sorry,” Leah said, not sounding the least bit sympathetic. “But you’re going to have to play nice. He’s Rick’s brother and this morning wasn’t anyone’s fault.”
“This morning he was a jerk.” She was pouting and sounded like a bratty teenager, but she couldn’t help it. The man had pressed a button she hadn’t known existed. Apparently, it was a button Leah hadn’t known existed, either, because she was staring at Rach as if she’d lost her mind.
“He doesn’t seem so bad. I thought he was very nice.” Leah inched toward the front door and Rach knew the conversation was over. Leah was wearing her White Horse-and-Roses expression. The fairytale ending was Leah’s ultimate goal in life, followed quickly by chubby, towheaded babies and a double stroller.
Rach was about to warn Leah against moving too fast with a man she’d just met when the object of Leah’s affections opened the perfect front door and stepped out onto the perfect front porch.
“Does this house have ugly toilets or cheap door handles?” she asked hopefully.
“Uh, no, they’re top quality,” Rick answered, looking at Rach as if she were from another planet. He turned to Leah and smiled hopefully. “Dinner? Tomorrow? “
On a normal day his boyish uncertainty would have been endearing, but Rach was still a little uneasy about him. What if he was some real estate agent who preyed on single women at his open houses?
Before Rach could interrupt and tell him “no way, not without a chaperone,” Leah replied, “I’d love to. Why don’t you give me a call later and we’ll set something up. Here’s my number again—I don’t want you to lose it.”
Leah grabbed the yellow legal pad from his hands and scribbled her name and number on the top. The big, goofy grin on Rick’s face was as ridiculous as the heart Leah had drawn around her name and number in blue ink. He wasn’t going to lose Leah’s number any time soon; it was probably saved in his top five after their week-long texting romance.
“I’ll call you at noon tomorrow and let you know where I’m taking you. I can’t wait.” Rick smiled and stuck the pen in his pants pocket. Then he leaned down and kissed Leah as if Rach weren’t standing only a foot away. She backed up to give them privacy and pretended great interest in her cuticles.
When he finished sucking the life force out of Leah, Rach grabbed her hand and pulled her down the sidewalk. Leah called back with a wave, “I can’t wait to see you tomorrow!”
“Me either!” Rick waved back.
“If you really like him you should try playing a little hard-to-get,” Rach whispered, knowing
Rick was still watching them from the porch.
“What would be the point of that?”
Leah was right, of course; she was way past playing hard-to-get and already on to planning a wedding.
“You sure it’s a good idea to go to dinner with him? Alone?” Rach touched a hand to Leah’s shoulder and peered into her eyes, worried. “You really don’t know him.”
Leah sobered and she squeezed Rach’s hand. “It’s okay. Really. I know this is you getting all protective-social-worker on me, and I love you for it, but Rick is exactly what he seems—a nice guy. Trust me.”
Rach sighed and stepped back to let Leah get into her car. “Okay...I guess.”
Leah smiled. “I’ll call you tomorrow. No more worrying.”
Rach only nodded. She got into her car and turned the key in the ignition. She found herself looking back at the house and wondering if Craig were looking out a window, watching her roll away in the smoking car.
When the temp gauge began to rise, she worried she wouldn’t make it the final three blocks.
“You can do it,” Rach encouraged the car. “Just remember your date tomorrow. They’ll fix you up and you’ll be good as new.”
At least she hoped so.
A couple minutes later she parked in her lot and climbed out, slamming the door so it would shut. The plastic cover over the left front blinker fell off and hit the asphalt. It lay cracked and forlorn on the ground.
“What a crappy day,” she muttered, scooping up the broken plastic. She shoved it into her purse beside the silver emblem.
Chapter Five
“You aren’t really going to buy the house just to annoy a girl, are you?”
“I was joking.” Craig ran his hand along the kitchen’s granite counter.
“Joking about a four hundred thousand dollar house? You?” Rick scoffed.
Craig gulped at the number. “Maybe you could show me a few other houses. This is nice, but a little big for me.”