Page 32 of Sunshine
My parents cannot win this. Reece cannot grow up like Posy and I did.
Chapter Eleven
Tess
I’m seated at the bistro set on the porch with a hot tea, staring at a blank word document and listening to the hammering next door that seems to bang exactly in time with the blinking cursor. It isn’t even that loud, but for heaven’s sake, since that searing hot kiss a week ago, every sound makes me think of him, the way it felt to be pressed so firmly against him, and what it might be like to have that same hammering rhythm stroking inside me.
Groan.
I look over at the six large gas cans and hose sitting by the door and bite my lip. Now that I’ve sabotaged his site again, I’m a little excited about the prospect of another encounter. Anotherhot,angry kiss. Gah. I’m so twisted.
I rise, dump my hot tea and go for some ice water instead.And a moment later I’m considering dumping it down my chest to douse the fantasy that’s heating me up like never before when my cell rings and snaps me back to reality.
“Hello,” I answer without even looking at the caller ID because for whatever reason my hot neighbor fantasy has friedmy brain. And why hasn’t he been over here yet, by the way? He must have noticed all his equipment is out of diesel by now.
“I’m outside your cottage.”
“Paige?”
“Hi bestie. I flew all the way here to see you so you cannot deny me entry. If I go to my parents’ first they’ll hold me hostage for at least twenty-four hours and we need to talk.”
“Hang on. I’m coming.” I rise, shutting my laptop, and go let Paige in, the‘we need to talk’weighing heavily on me.
“And you didn’t fly all the way here to see me. Your dad’s hip surgery is tomorrow.”
“Caught me. But we still need to talk.”
I step aside and let Paige in.
“I forgot how amazing this place is,” she exclaims, tossing her bag onto the old over-stuffed sofa and walking through the cottage, eyes darting everywhere. “It’s so cozy. There are so many sunny places to curl up with a book.” She deadpans me. “If only I had the latest Tess Harlow to read.”
I cross my arms, but I can tell from Paige’s face she can see right through me to my gooey guilty center.
“Except you can’t concentrate on any one of them with the damn banging outside.” I growl and go to the kitchen. “Tea?”
“Yes please. And seriously Tess, this is the noise you’ve been whining to me about? I can barely hear it.” Her voice is suddenly louder, and I turn to see her standing in the kitchen doorway.
I scowl. “When you’re trying to write, it’s very distracting!” I swallow and turn to the teapot so she can’t see my face.
“Traffic at the penthouse is louder.” She sounds matter of fact and I mock her silently while adding two tea bags to the pot.
“It is,” she repeats as if she saw my insulting parody with her best friend and agent superpowers.
“No, it isn’t,” I blurt turning back to give her my best warning glare, which she’s, of course, immune to. So, I try a differenttactic. “You should hear when the equipment is going, which you won’t today because… well, never mind.” Ignoring the face Paige pulls, I turn back to pour boiling water into the pot. “And the traffic there was basically white noise.”
“Ha! Except for the sirens and honking every three minutes.” Paige plops down at the kitchen table.
I grind my teeth but bring over the teapot and then fill the milk and sugar bowl from my grandmother’s set, suddenly aware that they’re all chicken-shaped. I harrumph as bring them to the table before grabbing the rooster and hen cup and saucers and setting them down as well.
“Oh my God, they’re adorable!” Paige’s animated voice, normally a pick-me-up after days alone writing, irritates me.
“Gran apparently developed a thing for chickens after I left,” I say in annoyance.
“What’s so bad about that?”
We’re silent for a few minutes and of course so is my neighbor. Jerk.
“She likes the real ones too.”
