Page 11 of Texting, Trouble & Touchdowns
I should go easy on her.
But again, where’s the fun in that?
“Why . . .” she stares at me like I’m a stray dog she forgot to call Animal Control about, “. . . are you here?”
“Missed me, darling?”
“Like I miss traffic,” she doesn’t even blink when she responds. Rude.
I grin. “So, all the time?”
She exhales slowly and deeply, pinching the bridge of her nose like I’ve personally caused every problem in her life.
“Lucian.”
“Olivia.”
Her eyes narrow. “What. Do. You. Want?”
I tilt my head, letting the silence drag just long enough to make her twitch.
“Fence guy’s coming tomorrow.”
She pauses.
Blinks.
And honestly, I can’t tell if she’s about to thank me . . . or murder me.
“You . . . hired someone?”
I nod. “You told me to fix it.”
“I—” Her hands flinch midair like she wants to physically throw the words back at me. “Did I really? Maybe that was more of a ‘you should take responsibility’ kind of statement, not a ‘literally show up at my house and take over my life’ statement.”
I cross my arms. “So . . . you don’t want your fence fixed?”
She groans, dragging a hand down her face. “I don’t like people making decisions for me.”
“Noted.” I nod. “Next time your house falls apart, I won’t change anything. However, today I tidied up your yard, anda crew will be here tomorrow. I already gave a fifty percent deposit.”
She releases the longest, slowest sigh I’ve ever heard.
“But what if I can’t afford to pay it?” she suddenly asks. “I just moved, and the flooring guy you recommended wanted to charge me an arm and a leg.”
“The one you told to go shove his quote wherever it fits better?”
She gawks at me. “I never said that.”
“You practically did,” I tease, smirking.
“No. I said I was shopping around, and when I made a decision, I’d reach out to him.”
“Same thing,” I argue.
She shakes her head. “I don’t have time for your nonsense.”
“Me neither, and yet, here we are.”
