Page 22 of The Weight of Your Wishes

Feeling oddly disappointed that there’s not more to do in there, I settle on sweeping and mopping the floors. When I finish, I head out back onto the deck. I spot some downed palm fronds lying around the edges of the yard and figure Grant would be happy to have one less thing on his plate, so I trudge through the tall grass and round them up, adding them to a pile.

He has a brick-lined fire pit back here and something of a flower bed, too. Imagining big, burly Uncle Grant tending to flowers has laughter bubbling up in my throat.

So, of course, he chooses that exact moment to swing open the back door. I try to disguise my laughter with a cough, but it doesn’t work.

“What could possibly be that funny in my backyard?” he asks, a slight smile playing at his lips.

“Oh… nothing.”

He walks toward me. “You must’ve been awfully bored today.”

I chew at my lip nervously. “Not really. I was just feeling motivated, and you really shouldn’t have to handle all this alone if I’m here.”

He rubs a hand over his bearded chin thoughtfully. “It’s only your responsibility to clean up after yourself, but thanks for the extra help, Hendrix.” He walks over to the flower box. “This needs weeded. Shit, look at this grass. Needs mowing,” he says the words under his breath like a curse before grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling it off in one very swift, frustrating motion. I pinch the bridge of my nose and look away. “Might as well get this yard fixed up now. I shouldn’t have let it get this bad to begin with.” He starts walking around the house toward the garage. “You can go get cleaned up; you did enough today.”

“Like hell I will,” I scoff. He drags the lawn mower out and hands me a weed eater.

“What twenty-one-year-old boy is this enthusiastic about doing yard work on his day off?”

I snort a laugh and slap the back of his shoulder. “I think the question you should be asking is: who would refuse such a strong young man’s help with his lawn?” What I don’t tell him is that I really just want to be around him as much as I can, especially while he’s shirtless and sweaty.

He huffs a sigh. “Fine. We can have some beers when we’re finished. Shouldn’t take long with the two of us.” He stalks back, and I follow his lead. He’s been out running errands for hours today, so I’m not really sure how he has the energy for this.Although, he really is quite fit for forty-something,I think, as I watch his back muscles ripple beneath his inked skin. He might not have six-pack gym abs, but his body is pure muscle from hard work, and that’s so much sexier to me.

I wonder if he’s noticed how I’ve grown into my body over the years; I know I look a hell of a lot better than I did at my high school graduation. But he probably hasn’t—I mean, why would he?

“You can pull the weeds in the flower bed, and I’ll start mowing,” he says, and just like that, he’s powering on the mower. He means business today. I can tell by the stern expression on his face and his bossy, take-no-shit tone of voice.

It’s not a stretch to say that I’ve always been pretty rebellious. Didn't ever appreciate being told what to do, yet when Grant demands things from me, my first instinct isn’t to retaliate. It’s to obey. Maybe I idolize him and trust him enough to take his guidance. Or maybe I just want him to be pleased with me—hell, I just want someone to think I’m good enough for once. That’s all there is to it.

I plunge my fingers into the dirt, ripping out the weeds. It’s really not as bad as he made it seem, so I’m done in no time at all. I fire up the weed eater and work around the perimeter of the yard, watching closely for snakes, of course.

After walking through multiple spiderwebs, I regret ever getting out of bed today. The sticky fibers linger on my skin and hair, and I can’t help but scratch all over because for all I know, spiders are crawling all over me. It’s making this weed-eating business take much longer than it should, but after a while, I get absorbed in the task. My mind zones in, and I do a really thorough job.

Once I finish, I turn around to see Grant leaning over the bar of his push lawn mower, watching me intently. “All done!” I lift up my t-shirt, wiping it across my sweat-drenched face as I walk toward him.

“Good job,” he grunts. His eyes linger on my middle for a split second, and it catches me off guard. My steps falter momentarily, but he just heads back to the garage, mower in tow.

My heart beats a little faster.Did he just check me out?There’s no way in hell.

Maybe it was that thing guys do where they appreciate another man’s physique. That still doesn’t seem quite right though.

With nothing left to do but forget it, I trudge after him. We put everything away, and he reminds me to leave my shoes by the door. The house is way too cold upon entering, and a chill slithers down my spine, sending a shock through my system after being in the near one-hundred-degree weather.

I stroll straight to the kitchen and grab a beer. I waste no time uncapping it and upending the contents, gulping until it’s almost empty. After slamming it down on the counter and wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I find Grant staring at me with one eyebrow quirked upward.

“What?” I ask, feigning innocence.

He snorts. “Nothing, I guess. Grab me one too, will you?”

So, I grab one for him and another for me and follow him back to the deck. I guess he didn’t care for the abrupt temperature change either.

The cotton fabric of my shirt is soaked with sweat, clinging to my body in a way that makes my skin crawl, so I pull it off and drop it to the floor. We sit side by side, kicked back and relaxed.

It’s not as bad as it was earlier. The sun’s starting to set, and the wind is picking up. It gusts through the dense palms, kicking up the earthy smell of freshly cut grass. I inhale deeply and melt into the chair, letting my legs sprawl out in front of me. My knee bumps into Grant’s, and warmth spreads from the contact.

“I won’t be at the bar with you and Sky tomorrow night. I’m taking Veronica on a date. She says we don’t spend enough time together anymore, so I wanted to do something before she goes out of town for her business trip,” he says.

My lip curls instinctively, but she’s probably right. I mean, all Grant does is work. He hasn’t mentioned going to see her or anything all week, but I hadn’t thought much of it. “Have you seen her since she showed up here last weekend?”

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