The Nice Guy Next Door (When In Waverly 1)

Jameson

Today has been wild from the start. Work has been one thing after another: crashes, cows in the roadway, stalled-out vehicles, and then barging in on my new neighbor while she was trying to get moved into her house. I blame that one on Nana and her vegetables. I really didn’t mean to scare her, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit it was funny.

After that awkward encounter, I decided to spend the end of my shift at the office finishing some paperwork that has been piling up. My sergeant has been on my tail to get it turned in. My shift is almost over, so I send the email to my sarge and stand up from my desk to stretch my stiff back.

I walk out to my patrol car and notice something slipped under my windshield wiper. That’s odd. People don’t typically place fliers on patrol cars. I grab it and take a look. It’s not a flier. It’s a poorly printed picture of me eating lunch with friends a few days ago. I can see that some marker has bled through the paper, so I flip it over and read the words I’ve got my eyes on you written in scribbled print.

I’m hoping that this is just a joke. Maybe one of my friends is playing a prank, but my gut is telling me neither Seth nor Colby would do something like this. Seth is a prankster, but he knows where to draw the line. They both know how stressful this job is for me, and besides, they’re in the picture with me.

It could be some high school kids, blowing off steam.

I crumple the picture up in my fist and take a look around the parking lot before climbing in my patrol car and driving away. I drive around town and then out to some country roads for a little while to make sure no one is following me before stopping by my nana’s house for a few minutes. It’s probably nothing, but I’m not taking any chances before I get to the bottom of this.

“I delivered your vegetables,” I call out as I walk in the front door of my nana’s house. The tiny woman saunters into the room and places her hands on her hips.

“And how were they received?” she prompts for me to continue. Eilleen Lane is a firecracker. It’s one of the things that made Pops fall in love with her. No one says no to Nana. Nana decided he was the one, and Pops said, “Okay.”

“She was very grateful, of course.”

“Good. Now get in here and eat some of these cookies I just made. They’re for my book club later, but I made way too many. If I have to bring all these things home with me, I’ll sit and eat them all, and then I won’t be able to fit through the front door.”

“But at least you’ll be a happy trapped lady,” I joke. Nana is five feet tall and about as big around as a toothpick, and she knows it. She bats at my arm as if she’s exasperated with me, but it’s all just an act. I’m the apple of her eye, and we both know it—half the town of Waverly, Texas knows it.

She ushers me into her kitchen, and I’m greeted with the sight of her table completely covered in cookies. “Geez, Nana. How many women attend this book club?”

“There’s usually about ten of us. I know I went overboard, but Millie is supposed to be there. She’s the new children's librarian, and I want her to feel welcome,” she says. She narrows her eyes, daring me to say something. Nana goes overboard with everything. It’s something of a joke around town.

She was once in charge of the town’s Easter egg hunt in the city square. For starters, she bought way too many eggs for such a small town, and then she proceeded to hide the eggs so well that even she couldn’t find half of them. Kids were still randomly stumbling upon eggs on Halloween that year.

“They look delicious,” I tell her as I swipe two cookies from a tray. White chocolate chip and cranberry—my favorite. There’s also chocolate chip and oatmeal raisin, of course. “So, you said Millie is supposed to be there?” I prod while staring down at the table. I’m trying to look nonchalant here, but I don’t think it’s working. Nana has stopped rifling through her fridge, and I can feel her laser eyes focused in on the side of my head.

“Uh-huh. Did you find anything out about her earlier?” she asks. She sits in the chair across from me and rests her elbows on the table. Her gaze is unrelenting, and I look out the window to escape it.

Should I tell Nana that the woman I met this morning was shy and sweet and also achingly gorgeous? Should I mention that she’s single and raising her teenage sister? Nana is no town gossip, but a few of her friends are. I don’t want to risk something about Millie getting out that she would prefer to remain private. She should have a chance to get settled in before she becomes a spectacle—and she will become a spectacle. Waverly is tiny, and we rarely get newcomers.

“Nope. Don’t know anything about her,” I say right before I shove a huge bite of cookie in my mouth. It’s sweet and delicious. The cranberries add just the right amount of tartness. I immediately take another bite, preventing Nana from asking me more questions. I can tell by the shrewd look on her face that she doesn’t believe me for a second.

The woman knows me well. She did help raise me, after all. My mom had me when she was only eighteen. My father, aka sperm donor, didn’t want anything to do with me. The original plan was to put me up for adoption, but Mama heard my heartbeat on the ultrasound and couldn’t do it. For the first five years of my life, we lived with Nana and Pop while Mama went to beauty school and then got settled into her career. After that, we lived right next door. It was a great childhood. And with Pop around, I hardly ever noticed that a dad was missing from my life.

“Where’s Pop today?” I ask to get Nana’s attention off of Millie.

“He’s over at Jim’s or whoever’s, helping to shingle the roof of that new chicken coop he built. I don’t know why the man retired if he’s still going to work. Now he’s just doing it for free—‘as a favor,’ he says. Drives me crazy. And why does a chicken coop need shingles, anyway?” she says and crosses her arms over her chest. She points at me and says, “But don’t you try to distract me.”

It almost worked. I saw Pop at Jim’s house earlier while I was working and knew that it would frustrate Nana. Pop turned seventy-three a few months ago and decided that it was finally time to retire from the handyman business. He had a good successful career, but the work was getting hard for him.

The problem is, he’s going and helping people do projects for free now. He can’t handle staying home and relaxing for days on end.

“You have to tell me what you thought about her. It’s so rare that we have new people in town. I have to find out everything.” Nana bounces in her chair, waiting for all of the details of this mysterious woman’s life.

“Really all I can tell you is that she has long, light-brown hair, the color of honey. It’s almost to her waist, and it has a nice wave to it. Her eyes are dark brown. Her skin is pale and creamy looking…”

“Well, I take it that you were taken by her beauty,” Nana says with a laugh. “But you forget I met her when I showed her the house two weeks ago. Did she tell you anything about herself?”

I clear my throat and say, “Oh, umm, right. We didn’t really talk long because she’s trying to get moved in. You probably spent more time with her than I did, so why don’t you tell me something about her.”

“Well, you’re no help at all,” she says and crosses her arms over her chest.

“Nana, you’re going to see her tonight at your book club meeting. Why don’t you just ask her more about herself then?”