Feels like Trouble (Lake Fisher 4)

“The names were not so bad,” I admit.

“So, are you going to tell him?”

“Tell him what?”

She glares at me. “That you’re moving back. Full time.”

“Oh, yeah.” I wave a hand breezily through the air like it’s of no importance. “I actually want to get his advice for how to landscape my front yard.”

“You know he gets paid for things like that now.”

I grin. “Maybe he’ll give me the friends and family discount.”

“Speaking of families, that house you bought, after you get it fixed up, will be just right for a great-grandbaby or two.” She looks everywhere but at me as she starts to hum a jaunty little tune.

“I’m almost forty, Grandma,” I remind her. “I think that ship has sailed.”

“You’re my best chance for a great-grandbaby,” she says. “Make it work.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I say with a grin. “I’ll see what I can do.”

When I go back to my room, I take out my phone and find the picture Grady texted to me. And I send him a text back.

Me: You busy?

I don’t get a response from him, even though I check my phone again and again throughout the day. Suddenly, there’s a knock on the front door. “I got it,” I yell to Grandma and open it.

“I’m never too busy for you,” Grady says right off as he leans in the doorway, grinning at me.

“What?” I ask, genuinely confused.

“I’m answering your text,” he replies. He pulls out his phone and shows it to me.

“You couldn’t have just replied to me?”

“Wouldn’t have been able to see you if I’d just done that,” he admits, and his neck flushes with red splotches. “This way’s more fun.”

I walk into the living room, and he follows me. He has apparently gone home and showered because he doesn’t smell like outdoors, like he normally does. He doesn’t smell like grass clippings or dry leaves. I lean close to him. “You don’t smell right.”

He stands up taller. “What?” He lifts his arm and sniffs his armpit. “I don’t stink,” he informs me. He palms the back of my head and pretends he’s going to shove my face in his armpit, but I jab his ribs until he lets me go.

“You don’t smell like outdoors.”

“I didn’t want to smell like outdoors,” he admits sheepishly.

“But I like your outdoors smell,” I confess, my voice small, and this time it’s me with heat creeping up my neck.

His eyebrows fly up toward his hairline. “Oh, you do, huh?” He waggles his brows at me. “I never ever thought I would get a compliment from Evie Allen.” He playfully puffs out his chest. “My life could end right now and I’d be content.” He grins at me.

If his life ended today, I would be devastated, and that surprises me. And it doesn’t, all at the same time.

“So, why did you want to know if I was busy?” he asks.

“I wanted to see if you might have the time to go somewhere with me.” I feel shy all of a sudden and I’m not one hundred percent sure why.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll know when we get there.”