Page 8 of Overdue

“Gran, we’re back,” he calls, motioning for me to precede him into the kitchen.

“Here she is!” Jennie singsongs when she sees us. I’m suddenly desperate for a hug. I remember her giving the warmest ones around, and I’ve needed one lately. Bending over, I get pulled into her arms. She smells of vanilla, just like I remember.

“You look wonderful,” I murmur against her shoulder. She releases me. I stand with a smile.

“Pff, enough about me. Look at you. All grown up. Reed, didn’t Austen grow up nice?” his grandmother asks, looking at him expectantly.

“Yes, Gran. She grew up very nice.” My newly discovered flush flashes across my face. I threw on a clean pair of jeans, a pink T-shirt, and a pair of matching Chucks before leaving the house. Very nice might be pushing it a little. At least I made an effort to curl my hair and apply a little mascara and lip gloss. I’ll pass in a pinch.

Reed is another matter entirely. From his soft-looking jeans, button-down shirt that matches his eyes, and bare feet, he looks good enough to eat. Or suck. Or climb. You know, whatever. Crap, now I'm getting that tingling feeling again. Must be from the shock earlier. Why is he smirking at me?

“I’m sorry. What?” Of course, I was daydreaming again.

“I asked what you would like to drink?”

“Oh, no. I was just dropping dinner off. I’ll be going,” I protest.

“Don’t be silly. Of course you’re eating. Sit down,” Jennie scolds, brooking no argument. Just like the pet dog, I plop into the chair across from her. Reed chuckles, reaching into the fridge to pull out a bottle of water. He sinks into the seat next to me at the tiny four-person table. “So tell us, Austen dear, how are things at the library?”

“Oh, you know. It's the library. You check books out, you check books in, and, in between, you put them on the shelf so someone can come along and take them back off. It’s good, though, keeps me busy.”

I’m riveted, watching Reed put food on Jennie’s plate. He’s cut it into bite-size pieces and buttered her bread. He’s also put her drink in a cup with a lid and a straw to make it easier to hold onto without spilling.

“According to what I saw of you humping the filing cabinet, it must keep you very busy,” Reed mumbles. My fork stops in midair. Oh no, he didn’t.

I was wrong. He is just as big an ass as I remember. Does he have a hidden switch somewhere on his body he can flip at a moment’s notice? It was sad, really, that so much handsome has to be wrapped around so much vitriol.

I consider him for a moment. He’s looking back at me. He doesn’t look smug, though. As a matter of fact, his eyes are opened a little wider than normal. What could possibly be flying through that mind?

“I can’t tell you how nice it is to see you again, Mrs. Campbell. It seems like forever since I’ve been home.” I turn my chair slightly away from Reed. If he wants to continue to act the way he did throughout high school, I will continue to ignore him the way I always have.

The rest of the dinner is pleasant enough. Reed, blessedly, keeps his thoughts to himself. That’s a win in my book. After helping clear the table, I say goodbye to Mrs. Campbell. All Reed gets is a look of contempt.

“Come back anytime, Austen,” Jennie says with a wave. I wave back, but just to her. Wouldn’t want Reed to get the wrong idea that we’re adults now and really should act like it.

What was it about the boy, now man, down the street that just seems to get so far under my skin? I’ll think about that later. Right now, I’m looking forward to a crazy weekend night with a hot mug of tea and a good book.

* * *

REED

“Harrison Reed Campbell, what in the world is wrong with you?” Gran asks. I’m not sure it’s a question. Sounds more like the beginning of a lecture.

“I don’t know, Gran. I must have been dropped on my head as an infant.” I’ve just stepped back inside the house. I had to watch Austen walk down the street. Nothing could stop me from staring at that glorious ass swaying down the street in those jeans. But, back to the backlash from dinner.

“Why would you say something like that to a woman you so obviously have feelings for?”

“Don’t know, Gran,” I yell, walking toward the kitchen. Grabbing the pitcher of tea from the refrigerator, I pour us both a glass before returning to the front porch. I hand her a glass and slump into one of the chairs.

What is wrong with me? Do I need her to focus on me so badly that I’ll do anything necessary? Even if it means I have to ruin everything by turning into an ass? So much for maturing in the years I’ve been gone. If I haven’t reached adulthood by the age of twenty-seven, there’s probably no hope at this point.

“Maybe next time, you could try complimenting her on her new job or the new programs she’s begun implementing at the library. Even blurting out that you like cake is better than what you usually say.”

“I know Gran.” Monday. Monday, I’ll go check on the books I asked for and do my damndest to come up with something charming to say. How hard can it be? If only I didn’t lose my fucking mind every time I get near her. I have all night to come up with something that doesn’t make me sound like a total douche. Piece of cake.

Thankfully, she lets the conversation drop. We settle into a peaceful silence waving at the neighbors out for an evening walk. I would never consider blurting out the things I say to Austen to any of them. Nope, I just save the good ones for her. Now I have to come up with a way to change that. At least I have the weekend to work on it.

four

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