I grunted an affirmative. I installed the stairs when I reno’d this place, but since she couldn’t seem to remember to turn on the outside light, they needed work.
I installed the new motion-sensitive light over her door while she cooked. Added some lights that lay flush against the wood of the stairs to light her way when she worked late at the salon.
I concentrated on screwing the little fuckers on each step and not getting between Dahlia’s luscious thighs.
Then I ate her pan-fried chicken with green beans and tomatoes, chasing most bites with a healthy swallow of sweet tea as Dahlia chattered about her day.
“I downloaded the practice written test. And got the information for the driving portion. I don’t know why I thought once I could get behind the wheel it would be as simple as that. I’ve got to learn parallel parking and when to check my mirrors and what all the signs mean and when I have to yield. There’s way more than I realized.”
“Usually is.”
“I registered to take the test a month out. You think that’s enough time?”
“You a quick learner?”
She looked up, her blue-gray eyes hooking on mine, a cherry tomato dangling on her fork between us. She rolled her pretty pink lips, then tipped her chin up. “I am.”
I nodded and took another bite of chicken. And a big swallow of tea.
She nibbled her portion, a frown dipping between her pale brows. “The chicken’s dry.”
“Not much.” I shoved a long, limp green bean into my mouth.
“And the beans are overdone.”
We sat at her tiny kitchen table. At the center, a squat, bright blue vase held a single flower. Long white petals with a dark yellow middle. I scooped up a forkful of mashed potatoes. “Potatoes are good.”
She smiled, weak but grateful. “I’ll get better at this, promise.”
I nodded when she kept staring. After a long moment, she wilted back into her chair. She nodded, too, that chin of hers firming up even as I watched.
“I will get better.”
Chapter Seven
Dahlia
“What’sthis?”
I looked up from where I sat in the salon lobby stashing my sky blue heels into my bag and grinned at Maia. “Skates, obviously.”
She tilted her head, plopping her hands on her hips. “Smart ass.”
“I figured out skating is like bike riding. You don’t really forget how.” I yanked on a pair of knee pads before jamming my feet into a pair of bright pink quad skates. I’d finished up with my last client of the day and couldn’t wait to get started on my afternoon. “But while I remember how to skate, my body is questioning the why.”
“No endurance, huh?”
“Zilch.”
I slid a pair of wrist guards on and topped my new ensemble with a pink helmet that matched my skates. I’d ordered the equipment online and opted to go cheap until I had a better understanding of what kind of gear I would need and prefer. Too many times in the past, I’d gone all in on something, only to discover I’d wasted a mint on things I would never use.
Or on an activity I’d lose interest in after a week.
“I thought you had a driving lesson today.” Maia hovered as I geared up, a little half-moon denting her cheeks as she fought a teasing smile.
“I do,” I told her with a roll of my eyes. “Wyatt’s bringing the Firebird to my apartment. My first drive out in the wilds of Weston Mill!” So far I’d fine-tuned the fine art of shifting gears by circling the back loop out at the airstrip about a million times, but today would be the first time he let me loose in town. “I figured I’d start skating home. Build up that endurance, you know.”
“Don’t forget, Shameless Readers tomorrow. Bring that wine again. It made great sangria last time.”