Feels like Trouble (Lake Fisher 4)

“The last time Junior said those words to me, he took me to a burlesque show two counties over, hoping that Barbara-Claire wouldn’t find out. He didn’t talk to me for a month after that.”

My brow furrows. “Why would he be mad at you over that?”

He grins. “Because she found out. Told him he had perfectly good boobs to look at in his own home and that she’d get naked for him pretty much any time he wanted. Then she didn’t let him anywhere near said perfectly good boobs for quite some time.” He points at his chest. “I had nothing to do with it. I don’t even like musicals.”

I snort. “Sure you don’t.”

“Puh-lease,” he replies, rolling his eyes. “All that dancing and lip puckering? Not for me.”

“So, you feel like going with me somewhere?” I ask again. “It’s not a burlesque show. I swear.”

He grimaces. “I’ll go with you if we can stop talking about burlesque.”

“Come on, then. I’ll buy you supper after.”

“Deal,” he says.

“I still owe you for the paint, and the dinner we had the other day.” I reach down and touch my hip. “Who paid for the tattoos?” I suddenly want to know.

He laughs as we walk out to my truck. “You did. You used a credit card. You’ll see it on your next bill.”

“I paid for yours too?”

He nods as I start my truck and back out of the drive. “You did. You were determined.”

“Why was I so determined?” I don’t remember much about that part of the night.

“No idea,” he replies quietly.

I take two turns to get out of Grandma’s subdivision, and then I turn onto a long winding driveway that leads to a house on a hill in the middle of ten acres.

“Is this the old Caswell place?” he asks. He looks at me like he’s confused.

From the outside, the house looks like it’s about to tumble to the ground, but it’s still standing, and the inspectors I hired assured me that the structure has really good bones. The only changes would be cosmetic.

“I put a bid on this place,” he says quietly. He scratches the stubble on his chin. “I got outbid.”

“Oh, my God!” I cry. “That was you?” I slap at his shoulder after I park in front of the house. “I paid an extra ten thousand dollars because of you? You have got to be kidding me!”

He sticks his fingers in his ears. “Clifford, I think that squeal of yours just called every dog in the neighborhood over here.”

“Oh, shut up,” I say as I get out.

He gets out and wanders up to the front steps. “So you bought this place?” He stares at me and he honestly looks a little bewildered.

I nod, suddenly feeling shy about it. “It seems like a lot of house for me, but I loved it the first time I ever saw it.”

“Me too,” he says as he runs his hand up the wrought iron banister. “They don’t make houses like this anymore.” He wanders around the front porch. “You’re far enough away from the road that you could sit out here and read in your pajamas as the sun goes down.”

“That was exactly what I thought when I saw the glider at your place,” I tell him. I mark off a spot on the porch with my arms. “I want to put one right here.”

“So, you bought this? Really?” He follows me into the house, and the screen door slaps shut loudly behind us.

“I’ve got to fix that,” I say. “And a lot of other stuff.”

He wanders from room to room. “Most of the work that has to be done is outside,” he says. He takes in the dust and dirt on the floors and the old furniture that was left behind by the previous owners. “And a little cleaning up.”

“I think Mrs. Caswell let the ou