Birthday Girl(17)

“Shit.”

The street outside is lined on both sides with rapids of rain water, all racing for the storm drains, the whitewash crashing into the curb before sinking down into the sewers. The street itself is an orchestra of white noise, the drops bouncing off the ground or pummeling hoods of cars, the rain so thick I can barely see the houses across from me.

“I’m meeting the guys over at the shop,” Dutch tells me. “We’ll load up tarps and sandbags and meet you at the site.”

“I’ll be there in twenty,” I say, and we both hang up.

Grabbing some socks out of my drawer, I slip my phone back into my pocket and walk into the bathroom, doing a quick sweep with the toothbrush before I leave the room. I walk down the hall, past the empty bedroom, the main bathroom, and then a closed door, the other spare bedroom, quickly remembering it’s no longer empty.

But as I hit the top of the stairs, a sweet and heady scent hits my nose, making my skin buzz, and I stop to breathe in. A slight hunger pang hits my stomach, and I flinch. The girl blew out a candle yesterday. Did she leave another one burning all night? We might have to have a talk. Not only is that unsafe, but I’m really not into this whole aromatherapy thing where your body is tricked into thinking there’s blueberry muffins in the house when there’s really not.

I head down the staircase, the house creaking under my weight, but when I reach the bottom, I look around, noticing the living room lamps are on and there’s soft music coming from the kitchen.

Stepping in, I spot Jordan sitting at the island in the dark. Her laptop is open in front of her as she warms her hands around a cup of coffee.

I hesitate for a split-second, taken back by how different she looks at the moment. The light from the screen makes her eyes glimmer as the steam rises from the mug in front of her face. Then she purses her lips and blows, trying to cool the drink, while strands of her blonde hair fall around her face from the messy bun piled on top of her head.

The narrow slope of her jaw, the long lashes, the soft point of her little nose, and…. My eyes drop before I can stop them, and I take in her flawless, smooth and tanned legs, visible because she’s still wearing her sleep shorts. Heat stirs low in my stomach, and I turn away, digging in my eyebrows.

They can’t be the same age. My kid is a kid, and she’s…

A kid, too, I guess.

It’s just weird. Last time I met one of his girlfriends the chick had braces. It’s off-putting to think of him dating girls now that were my type back in the day.

“Morning,” I say as I walk past her to the Keurig.

I see her pop her head up out of the corner of my eye. “Oh, hey. ‘Morning.”

Her voice is small and cracked, and I hear the laptop close shut as I stick a K-cup in the machine and a metal travel mug under the spout. I look over my shoulder to see her quietly sliding off the stool and gathering up her computer and notebook.

“You don’t have to leave,” I tell her. “I’m on my way out anyway.”

She gives a small, tight smile but doesn’t look at me as she tucks her things to her side and picks up her coffee again.

“Have you been up a while?” I ask.

“I’m a light sleeper.” She finally raises her eyes and laughs at herself. “Thunderstorms are hard for me.”

I nod, understanding. The heat is the same way for me. The AC needs to be set at sixty-five degrees every night for me to be able to sleep. It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask her if the temperature bothered her last night, but there’s really no point. I need to sleep, I’m not changing it, and she knows where the extra blankets are if she needs some.

We stand in silence for a moment, and then she finally blinks and gestures to the stove behind me. “There’s, um…blueberry muffins if you’re hungry,” she says. “They’re just out of a box, but they’re pretty good.”

I twist my head around, and sure enough, a muffin pan I don’t own sits on top of the stove, each cup overflowing with a golden-baked muffin. I reach over and grab one, hiding my smile. So no scented candles raising false hopes, after all. I think I like her.

She turns around and starts to leave the room, but I call out. “Do you think you could wake Cole up real quick, please? The rain really screws with my timetable at work, and we’re still setting the foundations, so I need help sandbagging today.”

She looks at me over her shoulder, curious. “Foundations?”

“For the site I’ve been contracted to build,” I clarify. “We can’t work today with the weather, but we have to make sure the basement level doesn’t flood. I could use Cole’s help.”

Realization hits and the confusion on her face vanishes. “Oh, right. Sure.” She nods and quickly leaves the room, her footfalls hitting the stairs with purpose.

If she hadn’t already been up, I probably wouldn’t have thought to ask Cole to come help, but the opportunity to go through her instead was too good. If I ask, it’ll piss him off. If she asks, it might go over better.

And besides, he knows this is part of the agreement. He and Jordan clean up after themselves, help with the cooking, do the yardwork, and help with anything else I might need, and I’ll pay bills while they save up enough to get back on their feet. It’s not too much to ask.

I fix the lid on my travel mug and go through two more K-cups to fill my Thermos before carrying both to the front door where my work boots sit. Sitting on the bench next to the door, I set my stuff down and pull on my shoes, grab my keys, and take my black rain pullover jacket out of the entryway closet, pulling it on.