Birthday Girl(35)

But still…he’s helping to grow our town, bringing work in, and getting jobs himself.

“You must be so proud to build things you get to see every day,” I tell him when we’re back down on the first floor. “Places where people will spend their lives and earn their livelihoods.”

“I never really thought about it like that.” He stops at the rear of the building, looking out at the acres of empty space beyond. “It’s my livelihood, too, I guess.”

I look out and notice an outdoor space attached to the back of the building. It’s large, and I can already see a marble fountain haphazardly placed for later setup.

“Is this going to be a courtyard?” I inquire, noting there’s no roof. “That’s a nice idea. Do you build that, too?”

“Oh, no,” he replies. “A landscaping company will come when the building is nearly complete and take care of planting the grass, trees, and installing the aesthetics.”

Right up my alley. I love the before and after, seeing an outdoor space transform.

“I’ll let you know when they start,” he offers as if reading my mind. “You can pop in every now and then to see the progress.”

I smile. “Thanks.”

I’d like that, actually. Aside from my teachers, no one else I know really enjoys stuff like this. Our eyes meet, and I realize that’s something I’ve been missing. I don’t have a lot in common with the other people in my life, do I?

We’re locked on each other but only for a moment. A worker passes by, carrying lumber over his shoulder, and Pike suddenly straightens, breaking contact with me and nodding a ‘hello’ to him.

“Well, I should…” I jerk my thumb behind me, “get going, I guess.”

“Yeah,” he answers. “Me, too.”

I back away. “See you at home. I’ll have dinner ready by five.”

He just nods and turns back to his work.

Home. Not the house? It’s not my home, after all.

I walk back to the car and climb in, feeling more out of sorts than when I came here. Dinner by five? Cole doesn’t get off until six. Did I suddenly just forget he exists?





I wrap the towel around my body and gather up my dirty clothes, the bathroom still thick with steam. Cracking open the door, I peek into the hallway to make sure it’s clear, and dash across to my bedroom, closing my door behind me.

I keep forgetting to take clean clothes in with me, so I can get dressed right after my shower. I’m still used to having my own place and not caring if I crossed the hallway in my towel. At least I’m remembering to put on pajama shorts if I go downstairs for water in the middle of the night. Doubt I wouldn’t die of embarrassment if Cole’s dad caught me in my underwear and T-shirt.

Taking my brush, I comb out my wet hair and pick out something to wear to bed. I see a glow from outside and walk over to the blinds, peering through a crack. It’s dark out—after nine by now—but Pike is still at it, in the driveway, working on my VW.

He’s pretty awesome. Cole’s been busy on everyone else’s car but mine, although I suspect it’s just an excuse for him to get out of the house.

A bright shop light hangs from my propped-up hood, and Pike circles the VW and leans over, unscrewing something. He’s been out there since after dinner. He wanted Cole’s help, but of course, he’s out again. I think he’s waiting for him.

A couple of women walk down the sidewalk, dressed in workout clothes, and stop, smiling and calling out something to Pike.

The brunette on the left jogs in place, even though she was just speed-walking a moment ago, while the redhead puts her hands on her hips and gives him a flirty smile.

“Seriously?” I mumble. Who the hell goes walking this time of night? “Smooth, ladies. Real smooth.”

Like they didn’t see Pike out here working through their kitchen windows, shirtless with muscles flexing against his tanned skin, still looking every inch the bad boy hottie they drooled over in high school, probably. Then they gave each other a call up to hatch a plan to don their active wear and ‘just happen to jog past his place’, right? I mean, it would be rude, after all, not to say hi, right?

I roll my eyes. Suburban housewives, bored with their husbands, looking to stir up shit like Pike Lawson is a pit stop to be used to excite them.

I release the blinds and back away.

I’m being so mean.

So, they’re flirting. So, what?

I’ve taken pride in the fact that I’m a pretty level-headed, calm person, but my behavior has been erratic lately. The move, the bills, Cole… I’m out of sorts, uncertain, and all over the place. I don’t like it.

I start a playlist on my phone, Pity Party droning out to match my pissy mood as the bedroom door clicks shut behind me. I stop brushing my hair, turning my head.

Cole is suddenly standing in the room, leaning against the door, and staring at me with a look in his eyes I know all too well. When did he get home?

Heat rises to my skin, and I clutch my towel, but I don’t know why.

He crosses his arms over his chest as his eyes scale down my body and back up.

“What?” I ask when he says nothing.

“Drop the towel.”

Now? But his father is still awake, and...

“Come on,” I protest but try to keep my tone light and calm. “It’s getting late, and I’m exhausted.”