Maggie stabbed him with the end of a breadstick. “It sucks, doesn’t it, when your mean friend points out when you’re possibly being a chickenshit?”
“Point taken. From now on, we’ll champion each other’s terrible decisions. You stay far away from that sexy landscaper who wants to tear your clothes off.”
“And you should definitely avoid a hookup with his adorable brother who definitely goes to the gym and thinks you’re gorgeous.”
“So glad we agree,” he said, pushing play.
Out of habit, they shoulder-shimmied and couch-danced to the short theme song.
“Your hair is a foot longer than it was when we shot this,” Dean said.
“It was a month ago, not a year,” she reminded him. “I miss your goatee.”
“Facial hair is for fall and winter.”
“How’d it go with Cody today?” she asked, changing the subject.
He chewed up a mouthful of grilled chicken. “Great. Good kid. Picks stuff up fast. Knows a hell of a lot more about photo editing than I do, and he’s got great hookups for royalty-free music.”
“Good.”
“He’s never edited video before, so there’s a learning curve. But he did great with shooting. I cut him loose early today because he’s got a big test in history or something boring tomorrow. It makes me feel ancient when he mentions high school.”
Maggie felt her lips quirk. In many ways, she still felt like a lost twenty-two-year-old looking for answers.
“And get this. I think he’s couch surfing. The kid let it slip that his parents don’t live in town anymore. I asked around, and it sounds like the dad left town a few years ago, and the mom was wanted for some kind of half-assed identity theft scheme and left about a month ago.”
“He’s homeless?”
“And practically orphaned. He’s your people,” he said.
“We’re gonna have to do something about that. Good thing I have a seven-bedroom house.”
“You can’t stay there alone with him.”
“What is this, eighteenth-century London? Is my reputation that fragile?”
“I’m just saying. Word gets out that you’re shacking up with an eighteen-year-old guy, and people are going to say stupid things.”
“Guess you’re going to have to move in, too.”
“I already started packing. But this means you need to redo some bedrooms and bathrooms stat because I am not bringing my very expensive skin care products into a bathroom with carpet on the walls.”
She leaned her head on his shoulder as the camera zoomed in on a pastel pink toilet. “I’m sorry for not calling you. I do need you.”
“You’re forgiven. Now consider saying it to Silas so you two can stop terrifying everyone on the job.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“I still hate that tile on the bathroom floor,” he said, pointing his fork at the screen.
RedHairDontKare: Dean is right. That bathroom floor tile is barftastic.
TomatoWarefare: Maggie just gets prettier and prettier every episode. Also, I want to live in that beach house.
SirFartsAlot: Do we know why Maggie and Dean aren’t together? Are they related? They seem like such a good couple!
CulpepperVicky: Maggie come to Culpepper and help me redo my house! I’ve got tequila!
19
Silas cursed as the dark clouds above them opened with little warning, hurling huge raindrops toward the earth. The crews scrambled to cover tools and materials as the rain soaked them.
A shrill whistle cut through the chaos. “Everybody inside,” Maggie called from the door to the sunroom.
“You heard the boss,” Silas said. “Move it.” The siding and landscape crews filed inside just as a roll of thunder rattled the windowpanes.
“Make yourselves at home, gang. Pizza’s on the way,” she announced, avoiding his gaze like she’d been doing all week. Her tank top was soaked and clinging to her body. She had a smear of dirt on one bicep and sawdust in her hair. Silas wanted to pick her up and bite her.
“Good thing you got yourselves a new roof,” Lewis, the foreman for the siding company from nearby Abileen, said as fat drops slashed at the windows and roared off the roof of the porch.
“Yeah, too bad the gutter folks weren’t on the schedule until next week,” Dean complained, eyeing the overflowing spouting.
“Shouldn’t there be a kitchen around here somewhere?” Lewis asked, observing the still gutted space that they’d all crowded into. The old fridge was plugged in on the wall next to a rickety set of shelves that housed a coffeemaker, paper plates, cups, and a roll of paper towels. A folding worktable acted as a temporary countertop.