Page 20 of The Thought of You

“Discipline is usually learned with age, and you have yet to graduate from the juvenile stage.” Addie finally cuts her eyes at me, and they are lethal.

There’s a chance she might actually combust. She’s been due for an explosion for weeks, likely from the second I stepped back inside the city limits over the summer.

I give her a once-over and arch a brow. “It’s hard to take you seriously as a mature adult when you’re dressed like this.”

“It’s spirit week. Of course, I dressed up. It’s part of the job, which I take seriously, unlike you.” She waves a dismissive finger over my boring clothes.

“I painted my chest. Want to take my shirt off so you can see for yourself?”

Something flashes across Addie’s eyes, and while I can’t make sense of it, I’m going to go out on a limb and bet it’s not good.

Austin steps between us. “What exactly did you need us here for? I never went to our own float shifts, and I certainly don’t want to be here for theirs.”

Addie shifts her angry attention toward him. “Just think of this as your second chance to right that wrong.”

“I made my peace with it around my twentieth birthday.” The smartass gives her a sarcastic tight-lipped smile, but the woman of steel doesn’t flinch, nor does her frown loosen.

“All I ask is that you two keep an eye on these kids,” Addie says quietly and checks left and right like she’s crossing the street, presumably to confirm no students are within earshot. They’re still preoccupied on their side of the old factory. “At their last shift, Maple led a few of them out back to try her father’s moonshine. Not only is that illegal, but this is a school event. We will abide by the law and keep things professional.” She punctuates the last word with a jerk of her laser focus onto me.

“You’re the one keeping candy away from babies.” I hold my arms out.

“We’ll watch them,” Caroline interjects and pats Addie’s shoulder in comfort, even though I’m the one who could use the latter. “Hey, remember the time we jumped into the river in October of our junior year? The water was freezing.”

“But it was a dare, and we never back down from a dare,” Addie adds, her head held high, and I respect the sentiment.

“We sure don’t. And we showed those guys what we were made of.”

“Damn right. They were too chicken to jump in themselves. Suckers.” The corners of Addie’s thin lips tilt, like she’s treading along the cusp of a smile, but she pauses before it blossoms. “Where did that come from?”

“You seem tense.” Caroline shrugs. “Thought putting a nice memory in your head would help.”

“It does. Thanks. You are as beautiful as you are creative and helpful.”

Caroline curtsies.

“You know what else helps ease some tension?” I wiggle my eyebrows, and over the girls’ heads, Austin shakes his in warning. “Some sweaty?—”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Addie bites out.

“Running,” I finish. “Why? What did you think I was going to say?”

For the rest of the night, Addie keeps her distance from me and channels her inner drill sergeant onto the students, instead. I almost feel bad for them until I realize almost two hours have passed, and they’re actually nearly finished. Her methods might not be warm and fuzzy, but Addie Lockhart gets results.

Which works for me because I need to get the hell out of here and shower.

Not to mention, I haven’t slept for shit this week. In between answering Addie’s distress signals for homecoming and the reunion, my parents needed me to set up their Roku. Plus, I had to fix Lottie’s toilet at her studio because hiring a professional plumber was “not in the budget,” as she told me with unmistakable panic in her eyes. As the person who does the books for her, I couldn’t argue.

As with any new business like hers, being tight with the budget is a necessary evil, which means I’m the guy she calls when things need fixing.

And I’m happy to be that guy. It’s often better than “the funny guy.” Not that Addie sees me as anything other than the “flaky guy.”

She and I have been at each other’s throats since dinosaurs roamed the earth. She starts it and almost dares me to finish it. I fall for it every time too.

Because, like her, I don’t back down from a dare.

As the group begins cleaning up, I follow Austin outside, welcoming the fresh air in place of the moldy conglomeration of smells inside the old factory. Out here, faint giggles from the kids drift over us. Their moods have done a one-eighty since they realized they don’t have to be “float scientists” to get shit done in there.

Austin nods in the direction of the door. “You’re real smooth with Addie,” he deadpans.

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