When August Ends(4)

“What choice did I have? From where I was standing, you looked like you were waving your arms for help. I’d have to be a real dick not to do anything.” He turned away from me.

“Speaking of you being a dick…”

That got his attention back.

“I thought you were gone the other day. That was the only reason I went into your space to clean. Your truck wasn’t there.”

Noah blew out some smoke. “My truck needed a new tire. Didn’t feel like waiting the hour at the shop, so I walked a mile back here and decided to take a relaxing shower. We all know how that went.”

Our eyes locked for a moment before his mouth curved into a slight smile. I breathed a sigh of relief.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you,” he finally said. “I actually regretted it after. I was just taken aback.”

“It’s okay.” I fidgeted, not knowing what to do with my body. Being around him made me very antsy. “I’m twenty, by the way. So, again, not a teenager. How old are you?”

“Too old to be hanging out with a twenty-year-old whose tits are falling out.”

I looked down at myself. Shit. He was right. My tits were practically out of my bikini. I was so into him I hadn’t even noticed. I covered my breasts with my arms. It wasn’t like I’d planned this whole thing, but nevertheless, that was indecent. Instead of feeling shy, though, the fact that he’d pointed it out filled me with heat. On some level he was noticing me in a sexual way. And I liked it—too much, maybe. An excitement I hadn’t felt in forever ran through me.

“Why do you do all the work around here? It seems to be just you manning everything. Why?”

No one had ever asked me that before.

“It’s my responsibility. Why is that so strange?”

“At your age, shouldn’t you be in college or something? Why are you cleaning and shit?”

His question offended me a little, but it made me happy that someone had taken notice.

“It’s not exactly my preference. My mother isn’t doing well…mentally. So, I’ve taken on most of the duties around the house and with the rental. I work over at Jack Foley’s Pub when I’m not tending to things here.”

“You don’t need to clean my room anymore.”

“But I have to. It’s part of the—”

“No more cleaning the boathouse while I’m here,” he barked. “I don’t like people invading my space anyway. And I’m sure you have better things to do than clean up a grown man’s mess.”

“Well, if you don’t want me to, I won’t.”

“I don’t.”

God, he’s so grumpy.

And sexy.

“Okay.” I shivered.

It was getting cool out, but I wasn’t ready to leave. This porch was probably the last place I belonged, but it was where I wanted to be. This was the most invigorated I had felt in a long time.

My teeth chattered. “What brought you to Lake Winnipesaukee for the summer?”

Rather than answer me, Noah got up and walked into the house. The door slammed behind him.

No, he didn’t.

Did he really just do that?

I guess I can’t ask him personal questions.

Just as I was about to turn around and head home, the creak of the door startled me. He returned to the porch holding a buffalo plaid flannel shirt.

He threw it at me, not so gently. “Put that on. Cover yourself.”

“Thanks.” I slid my sleeves through the shirt and buttoned it up. It smelled like him, all manly and woodsy—as if someone had bottled the scent of testosterone and sold it. I was already planning to sleep in this shirt.

To my surprise, he returned to my earlier question. “I needed to get away for a while. Picked this place randomly. Didn’t run a background check to make sure it didn’t come with a prying little innkeeper who doubles as a Fly Girl.” He winked.

“What’s a Fly Girl?”

“Shit.” He sighed and looked down at his feet. “That was before you were born.”

“Well, what is it? A Fly Girl? Some kind of superhero comic strip?”

He laughed that hearty laugh I felt between my legs. “There was this comedy show in the nineties…In Living Color. Jamie Foxx and Jim Carrey used to be on it. These dancers called Fly Girls would perform in between the comedy sketches before the commercials. Anyway, I was just making fun of your little hip-hop routine.”

“I’ll have to look it up online. I’m kind of disappointed in myself for not knowing. Normally, I’m pretty well-versed in nineties’ pop culture.”

I could feel myself blushing, and I didn’t even know why.

Clearing my throat, I asked, “Do you work?”

He puffed on the cigar and smoke billowed out of his mouth as he said, “I’m taking a break at the moment.”

“What do you do?”

He didn’t answer right away. It seemed like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to answer my questions.

“I’m a photographer.”

“Really? That’s so cool. I’ve always wanted to learn photography. What kind of photos do you take?”

“Everything from nature to portraits. You name it, I’ve probably shot it. I used to work freelance for newspapers some years back. A wide variety.”