Birthday Girl(72)

He feigns a scowl and revs the gas, barreling us down into another ditch. My stomach drops into my feet, and I yelp again, laughing.

“Stop!” I plead. “You’re going to tip us!”

The front fender crashes into the bottom, kicking up a wave of mud and water in front of us. My body jerks forward into the seatbelt, and I scream in excitement, squeezing my eyes shut.

Shit!

But I can’t stop laughing. He’s right. How have I never done this before? I’ve been missing out.

Cool rain falls lightly through the window, misting my leg, and I open my eyes again and wipe off my cheek, seeing streaks of mud on my hand.

Turning to him, I see his eyes meet mine, both of our bodies shaking with quiet laughter.

“Ok, it’s my turn!” I blurt out excitedly.

Unfastening my seatbelt, I pull the door handle, moving to get out.

“No, just slide over,” he tells me. “I’ll get out and come around.”

I stop and turn, seeing him open his door, and instead of stepping down, he pulls himself up and swings around into the bed of the truck behind us. I quickly slide across the seat and in front of the steering wheel. The perk of his truck being so old is that it has a bench seat. I don’t need to hop over a console.

I fasten my belt and gaze out the windshield, a surge of heat coating my stomach as I smile.

“Watch out for the mud!” I call out the window to him.

I have no idea how deep it is outside the passenger side door.

But I wait as the truck rocks with his movements in back, and then the passenger side door opens, his hand appears at the handle, and he leaps inside, never once touching the ground.

Sliding into the seat next to me, he slams the door and runs his hand over his now-drenched hair.

My eyes fall to his T-shirt molded to his chest, defining his collar bone and the muscles of his pecs and broad shoulders.

He turns to me. “What?”

I blink and clear my throat, recovering. “Nothing. You’re just still pretty nimble for your age, huh?”

His eyes flare. Swiping his hand outside the door of the truck, he brings it back in and whips it at me, mud slicing across my face.

I gasp, closing my eyes on reflex and twisting away. “Stop!” I laugh, holding my hands out as more mud comes flying. “I’m just kidding!”

“Since when did thirty-eight become a goddamn senior citizen?” he growls, but I can hear the amusement in his voice.

More mud flies at me, and I cower with my back turned to him, trying to protect myself. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it!”

But I can’t stop laughing.





Two hours later, the sky is dark, and I’m blissfully relaxed. I can’t think now even if I try. Cole’s and my bills sit in my room, the tuition that I’ll go further in debt with student loans to pay is coming due in a couple months, and the nudge I feel at my back, knowing I can make more money if I just have the guts…. Everything is miles away right now. I’ve been smiling non-stop the entire afternoon.

“That was fun,” I tell Pike, both of us veering around his house toward the backyard.

We’re muddy and don’t want to track it in though the living room, so I suggested cleaning off with the hose in the backyard a little first.

Glancing up at Pike, I see mud on his neck and his eyes staring off, unfocused, as if he’s lost in thought. A small smile plays on his lips.

“What?” I ask him.

He finally blinks, taking in a deep breath and shaking his head. “I just realized I never do anything,” he says, pushing the wooden fence door and holding it open for me. “I haven’t laughed like that since…I don’t even remember when.”

My heart leaps. I’m glad I’m not the only one who enjoyed it. I’m glad he liked spending time with me, because…

Because I’m getting used to him.

I find myself looking at the clock and getting more excited the closer it gets to five every day. I look forward to him, and I wish I didn’t. I’m going to leave eventually. I don’t want to get attached.

The shower flashes through my mind, and I remember his loofah, and my cheeks warm.

I feel good with him, and I’m glad he feels good with me. I just can’t feel that good.

We come around the back of the house, toward the back door, and I bend down to twist the faucet. Water pours out of the hose, and I pick it up off the ground.

Standing upright, I run my hand under the hose, thankful the water is still warm from the day’s sun.

I hand it to him, and he takes it.

“Thanks for coming today,” he says quietly. “We needed the help.”

I nod, pulling off my sneakers and hat. “It’s my town, too.”

He rinses off his face, arms, and construction boots, and I notice the water pouring down his clothes and still leaking mud.

We’re just making it worse.

“There’s some towels in the dryer,” I say absently. He can go inside and change into a towel while I stay out and rinse off.

He pulls his shirt off over his head, and I take it, twisting it in my fists to force out the water, while he runs the hose over his shoulder and down his back.

“Is all the mud gone?” he asks.

He turns around, still holding the hose and showing me his back, and all of a sudden, I can feel the heat of his body next to me. My blood starts heating up under my skin, and I’m afraid to look at him.