Getting Schooled (The Wright Brothers #1)(35)

“My lady friend is boogie_woogie_woman, and your ass needs to learn how to knock. What you want, boy?”

“I was just coming to tell you I finished getting up those leaves in the front yard for you.”

His glare softened into a concerned frown, and he propped his hands at his waist. “What are you doing messing around with yard work? I told you I’d hire somebody.”

“For what? You’ve got three grown ass sons who live in the same city.”

“Yeah, but Joseph is always at the hospital, Justin is always on a deadline, and you’re…”

I crossed my arms. “I’m what? Able, available, and willing to rake the yard? That’s what you were going to say, right?”

He let out a heavy sigh. “Point taken. I just… I worry about you, son. I don’t want you out there straining yourself with that.”

I swallowed the redundant argument that I was easily the strongest, most physically fit of my brothers, even with an “impairment” and that I’d done a more thorough, quicker job than anybody he probably would hired. Instead, I forced a smile to my face, hoping it didn’t look like a grimace. “Well, in any case, it’s done.”

Pops drew his head back, looking at me in surprise. “What, no argument there? No insistence that you can handle it, that you’re not a little boy anymore. No rejection of my fatherly concern?”

I shrugged, then dropped into the empty chair behind me. “Nah.”

For several moments, my father studied at me, not saying anything, before a smile spread over his face. “What’s her name?”

I lifted an eyebrow. “Who?”

His smile grew wider, and he shook his head, chuckling. “Your sandpaper.”

At first, I just stared at him, confused, until the memory of my mother’s words made me laugh. “What makes you think I found some?”

“You’ve been mighty laid back these last few weeks. I didn’t have to ask you to change out of the service center uniform before you came out on the floor yesterday. You haven’t been walking around here like you were insulted by folks caring about you.”

“So that means I found a woman?”

He nodded. “And she must be a doozy too, to soften you up. Coarse grit.”

I tried to keep a smile off my face. Reese wasn’t my girl, but she was the only person even close, and “coarse grit” was accurate. She was nobody’s shrinking violet, not afraid to speak her mind, eager to do verbal battle. Hell, maybe physical too. On the other side of that, she was funny as hell to me, compassionate without being patronizing, and passionate about the things she believed in. Not to mention she was smart, and so damned sexy it didn’t make sense. She was very, very Reese. Unapologetically.

And I liked that. A lot.

“You’re grinning pretty hard, son,” Pops said, chuckling as he left the room. “Start deciding how much you want to spend on the ring.”

“Wait, what?” I jumped up, following him into his bedroom as he sat down, slipping a pair of leather brogues on his feet. I noticed then that he was dressed like he was headed out, in slacks and a button up shirt.

He stood up, lifting a tie from his dresser, and looping it around his neck. “I said start deciding how much—”

“Nah, I heard you,” I said, holding up a hand. “I’m just saying… nah, it’s not like that. Nowhere near like that. We aren’t even dating.”

“What’s stopping you?”

“I… don’t really know. She did just break up with somebody like a month ago.”

My father stopped fixing his tie, looking at me with a raised eyebrow. “What the hell that have to do with you?”

I shrugged. “Aren’t you supposed to give somebody time after that?”

He laughed. “Boy, if she’s got you grinning like that, she’s had plenty of time. Trust your old man. I knew my way around women until I met your mother. I forgot all of my “swag” as you young fellas call it,” he said, still chuckling. “That’s probably what’s wrong with you now. Woman got your head messed up.”

“My head isn’t messed up though.”

“Mmmhmm. Talk to me about it again in six months.” He sprayed himself with cologne, and then pulled a sweater over his head. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m heading to go pick up my woman, because I know how to ask a pretty girl out.”



- & -





“If he thought your little super sleuthing was sexy, wait until he sees this. Damn, mama!”

“Language, Reesie.”

“Sorry.”

Still. Daaaamn, mama!

She was going to give that man a heart attack in that dress. It was a little black sweater knit number, with an asymmetric hem that rode high on her thighs. Her legs were covered, protected against the cold by opaque black tights, but the lack of skin didn’t diminish the effect. Up top, she was covered all the way to her neck, but the material of the dress hugged and accentuated her fit curves.

She chuckled as she slid her feet into tall boots. “You young girls aren’t the only ones who can keep a man’s attention.”

“Gone with your bad self then,” I laughed. “He’s coming to pick you up?”