Page 91 of Cornered

“Do you like ’em?”

Lahela turned on her heel to see her neighbor Mr. Dunn coming up her walkway. “Did you do this?”

“I heard you mention to Rosemary you thought this porch was perfect for a swing.” He stuffed his hands into his jeans, looking bashful. “’Fraid I’m a bit too old to manage a porch swing, but I saw these at the feed store. All they needed was a good stain and some polish. Figured an old man could do that for his neighbor.”

Rocking chairs. Lahela climbed the steps, remembering her conversation with her next-door neighbor. She ran her fingers along the curve of one of the chairs and set it to a gentle rock. “They’re beautiful, Mr. Dunn.”

“Well, now I’d thought this would at least get you to start calling me Jesse.” He joined her on the porch and pulled a rag from his pocket. He ran it over a spot. “I put the last coat of polyurethane on this morning, but that smell should go away soon and be ready to enjoy tomorrow or the next day.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

Lahela had fallen in love with this cottage home the second she drove up the tree-lined street and saw the wide porch. It had been listed as rent-to-own, and she thought it would be the perfect starter home—all it needed was a porch swing and a family.

A pinch of melancholy threatened to steal this moment, but Lahela wouldn’t allow it. It didn’t matter whether it was a porch swing or beautiful rockers, the thoughtful gift from her elderly neighbor reminded her that she did have family here.

Briggs stepped next to him and shook his hand. “This was thoughtful of you, Mr. Dunn.”

“Thank you.” Mr. Dunn pushed the rag back into his pocket and swiped a hand through the halo of wispy, white hair. “Well, I guess I better let you young’uns get back to your night.” He eyed Briggs, and a paternal look took over that Lahela thought was cute. “If you need anything, I’m just across the street.”

“Thank you so much, Mr. Dunn. These are beautiful and I can’t wait to invite you over to sit in them with me and tell me more stories about your wife, Janine.”

“I’d enjoy that.”

Lahela watched Mr. Dunn cross the street and enter his house before she gaped at Briggs. “Can you believe this?”

“They’re nice.”

There was something off in Briggs’s tone, and when she looked back at him, her happy moment faded. If she had hoped Briggs would let her come home and forget about the earlier incident with the calls and texts, the steely look he was giving her now said she was in for another lecture.

“Briggs...”

“Lahela.”

Why did he have to say her name like that? Low and broody. It made her want to change her mind and invite him in, but it was highly unlikely their conversation would go where her heart wanted it to.

“Thanks for escorting me home.” Her attention slid to his hand and the memory of his fingers brushing her cheek.Be strong, Lahela. She used her house key to unlock the door and flipped on the inside lights. “I’ll see you tomorrow at the festival.”

A few seconds passed where only the sound of crickets filled the air. Enough time for her to search his face and see the genuine concern drawing his brows low over his hazel eyes that leaned greener when he was upset. Like they were now.

“I’ll be fine, Briggs.” She smiled at him. “I’ve got great neighbors who are always looking out for me.”

Briggs’s frown deepened, and he looked up and down the quiet neighborhood. “Aren’t most of them in their sixties and seventies?”

Her laugh cut through the night, and she covered her mouth. The corner of Briggs’s lip lifted, and it made her happy to return to the easy banter they shared.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Which makes them bored and the first to call the police if anything is amiss. Just ask Mr. Dunn. Rosemary called the police because she thought he was watering on the wrong day of the week.”

Briggs’s face split into a grin, and it was the best thing Lahela had seen all night. “Fine. I’ll trust the senior citizen brigade for now, but promise me you’ll call the police yourself ... for any reason.”

Lahela nodded, surprised at the emotion swelling in her throat. With a wave, she closed the door, bolted it, and then watched Briggs drive away before closing her blinds. She’d always felt safe in her home, but tonight ... tonight she turned on all the lights and left the television on all night.

SATURDAY MORNING,Lahela woke up with a new focus—and it wasn’t going to be on harassing phone calls or texts. Thankfully, her phone remained silent.

Crossing the street, she carried the tray of homemade pumpkin muffins she made for Mr. Dunn to thank him for the beautiful rocking chairs. Waiting for them to bake, she’d dressed up her porch with a wicker table from her back patio and a fake fern because she still hadn’t figured out how to keep outdoor plants alive in the Texas heat. She was already imagining nights spent here with the soft glow from the lights strung on the railing. Maybe with Briggs.

“Good morning.”

She found Mr. Dunn wiping a soapy sponge over the hood of his wife’s car just like he did every Saturday. He looked up, his eyes brightening with his smile. “Good morning, Lahela. You’re up early this morning.”

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