Page 23 of When The Rain Falls

"See that line?" I nod to the lip of my driveway before she can get any closer.

"Yes," she says, looking down.

"That's my property line," I tell her.

"Cool?" she says sarcastically. Her tone tells me she doesn’t care and thinks this line of discussion is a complete waste of time.

"Don’t cross it," I say flatly. "You cross that line and you cross me. Got it?" Yeah, Finn. This seems like a great idea. Draw a literal line on the ground and tell the contrary, stubborn woman not to cross it. It’s like I don’t even have children.

She tips her head back in a laugh, nearly losing her balance. “I didn’t know trolls were territorial.”

Why does she keep calling me a troll? I’m not a fucking troll. Would a troll wash a minivan?

“I know,” she says, scrutinizing my face and popping out her hip. “You have a bunch of kidnapped women locked up in your dungeon and you don’t want to be discovered.”

"I don’t need tokidnapwomen,” I retort, swirling the long end of the hose around in front of my body. And shit. It looks like I’m making a filthy gesture about the size of my dick. Oh fuck. Aimee’s eyebrows raise telling me that she noticed it, too. Fuck. “I have enough bullshit to deal with today. I don't need any of yours," I mutter, turning away from her.

But I can’t help but glance back at her when she drops her arms and lets out a howl. Why does she find that funny? I was being serious.

"So, do you rollerblade?" she asks. She asks like it’s a completely normal question to ask a forty-two year old man with graying hair around his temples and frown lines as severe as the cracks in his driveway.

"Do Ilooklike I rollerblade?" I clench my teeth. I clench my teeth to bite back an involuntary chuckle.

"Never judge a book by its cover," she answers smartly. Her eyes widen, if that's even possible, as her whole body starts rolling forward. Her front wheel eventually stops on the lip of my driveway. She tries to back up, but this only causes her to lose her balance. Her arms flail wildly in all directions as her blades threaten to roll out from under her. Aimee crouches down and sets her palm on the pavement to steady herself.

"No," I tell her. "I don't rollerblade." Aimee tries to stand, but her blades send her rolling forward again. This time she plows right into my mailbox. "And apparently, neither do you."

Aimee doesn't respond. She's too busy concentrating on gripping the mailbox and regaining her footage. When shefinally stands, she gives me an amused smile. Goddamn, why is everything so amusing to her?

I see that the front of her rollerblade has crossed the line. Aimee's gaze follows mine. She looks back up at me and grins wickedly, like she's daring me to do something about it. Well, she's messed with the wrong person. I don’t believe in empty threats. Follow through is the only way to establish dominance. I point my hose at the offending rollerblade and a cascade of water falls across her entire foot.

"Hey!" She laughs. But instead of pulling her foot back. She dangles her second blade in the air over the line, taunting me.

"Don't test me," I command as I send the spray of water higher up her leg. She laughs hysterically as she sets the second blade down, right onto my driveway. I don't hesitate for a moment. I instantly shoot a volley of water across her entire front. And fuck. That's when I remember she's wearing a white t-shirt. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.Idiot.This was probably all part of her scheme. Her shirt clings to her front in all the best ways. I try not to stare. In fact, I peel my eyes off her and the hint of the black bra peering through the now partially sheer fabric. Who wears a black bra under a white t-shirt, anyway?

"You're trespassing," I tell her as I redirect the hose and my gaze back to the van. I don't want to risk any accidental, lingering glances.

"And you're rinsing a van that's perfectly rinsed," she snaps back at me. I study the van more closely and realize she's right. There's not a single sud anywhere. NowIfeel like the moron.

Aimee stumbles on the bumpy surface of my driveway, throws her arms out for balance, and then corrects herself once again. Does she even know how rollerblades work?

"Can you please fall somewhere else?" I ask her. "I'm trying to do my chores in peace. You might get blood on my driveway."

Aimee opens her mouth to say something, when the sound of an approaching truck steals our attention. It's a dark blue pick-up truck that lurches to a stop right in front of Alicia's house.

"Expecting someone?" I ask.

"Kinda," she says, tossing her hair over her shoulder and spinning on her rollerblades towards the truck. The truck door opens and a man steps out. His hair is long and tied back in a ponytail. He's wearing jeans and a t-shirt that says,What about second breakfast?in scrawly script.

"I think you're here for me," Aimee says as she rollerblades towards him. Again. She’s a grown ass woman. On rollerblades. That’s not the way you greet people.Jesus.

I realize that I’ve absentmindedly followed her to the street. Garden hose long forgotten in the driveway.

"Are you Aimee?" he asks as his eyes travel down to her shirt and stay there for three beats too long. I suddenly want to pop the guy in the jaw. I mean, sure, it’stechnicallymy fault, but I had the decency to hide my gawking. I stand protectively behind Aimee, just to make sure this guy doesn’t get any wrong ideas. "Yeah," she chirps, apparently oblivious to the fact that her front is basically every man's wet dream right now. "That's me."

"I'm Eric," he says. "Alex sent me over with the rest of your stuff."Alex?Who is Alex? And why would he send this Eric guy to deliver her stuff?

Aimee loses her balance and grabs my arm. I steady her by placing a hand at the small of her back and guiding her forward. She turns to smile at me over her shoulder. And this is a soft smile. Not full of mischief or hysterics. Just a simple, kind smile. It’s so genuine and so pure that it nearly knocks me over. Stuns me in place. Aimee, completely unphased by the havoc she is wrecking on the walls around my heart, follows Eric to the tailgate of the truck. When Eric puts the tailgate down, I see five, maybe six moving boxes in the bed.

---