Fender Bender Blues (14 page)

“Rachel dear, it’s Mrs. Jacobs!” a voice sing-songed from the other side of the door.

She stepped to the door cautiously and peered through the peephole. Sure enough, there was her neighbor from across the street standing on her porch with a wide grin on her face. An oversized, yellow straw hat sat on her head, a blue ribbon wrapped around the brim and a matching fake carnation the size of a softball sat on the side of the hat, laying against the bill and fluttering in the light morning spring breeze. Rach breathed a sigh of relief and opened the door to let the short, chubby older woman in.

She smoothed her pants and said breathlessly, “Oh my, Rachel, I was just admiring your gnomes outside. And all those pretty lights!”

“Would you like some coffee? I just made a fresh pot,” Rach offered.

Mrs. Jacobs nodded and the straw hat bobbed on her head. “That’d be wonderful, Dear. I should have brought my donuts. I could go and get them if you want?”

Rach did want, but shook her head. “No, that’s okay. I’m not hungry.” She was starving. “All I have is sugar.”

“I drink my coffee black, Dear.”

Rach poured the cup and set it on the table where Mrs. Jacobs had settled into one of the tall-backed brown chairs. She leaned forward as she wrapped wrinkled, age spotted hands around the warm coffee mug, and asked, “Has Evelyn seen those yard ornaments?”

“I’m pretty sure I heard her screaming this morning,” Rach answered, amused at the satisfied look that crossed the woman’s wrinkled face. Mrs. Jacobs was cute and bubbly and mischievous, always stirring up trouble on the street just for the heck of it. Since Rach had moved onto the block she’d come to realize Mrs. Petska and Mrs. Jacobs often disagreed, as if they thrived on the controversy and all the other neighbors chose to stay out of the crossfire.

Last year when Mrs. Petska told her she wasn’t taking proper care of her tulips, Mrs. Jacobs bought an oversized, ugly gnome to decorate her front lawn. Not because Mrs. Jacobs had a great fondness for gnomes, but because Mrs. Petska hated them. When Mrs. Petska spotted the atrocity, she stormed across the street to demand it be removed. When Mrs. Jacobs’ refused, Mrs. Petska took a vote at the monthly neighborhood meeting where she moved to make a rule to keep tacky ornaments off the block.

The motion hadn’t received enough votes, emboldening Mrs. Jacobs to add an even uglier statue—a bear with a straw hat very similar to what was on her head, minus the flower. As a result, Mrs. Petska “accidentally” misplaced Mrs. Jacobs’ seating card at a benefit dinner for the Alzheimer’s Foundation, making Mrs. Jacobs endure the company of Pete McAllister, a very smelly old man who made sucking noises when he ate and told dirty Polish jokes. The day after, Mrs. Jacobs flagged Rach down during an afternoon walk with Tally, giving her the low-down on the entire feud. Rach had had a hard time maintaining a straight face.

Rach supposed at their age, with children grown and gone and most of their friends moving on to retirement homes, the bickering gave them something to fill the void and keep them young. She didn’t mind, it made her time on the block interesting enough.

“Good. That sanctimonious grouch deserves this. You know, she called me last week and told me she thinks my trees need trimmed. The nerve! She said they’re hanging over the street and it looks trashy,” Mrs. Jacobs huffed and sipped at the coffee. “I told her to put a sock in it and do something about the peeling paint on her porch.”

Rach patted the woman’s thick hand. “That was very brave of you.”

She nodded with wide, serious eyes. “Someone has got to stick up to that bully.” She leaned in and asked in an unnecessary whisper, “So tell me, why did you put those pretty decorations out?”

Rach shared the story without sugar coating any part of it to save face. After hearing it out loud, it sounded much more ridiculous than in her head.

“Serves her right! Putting dog poop on your porch—that’s just horrible! Although you really should have picked up Tally’s poop, young lady,” she
tsk-tsked
with a smile then snickered, “I can’t wait to call Mary and tell her all about this. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Not at all, have fun with it.” Rach stood to help Mrs. Jacobs to her feet, steering her toward the front door. The older woman would talk all day if given the chance. “I’ll probably take them down in a few days and then ask for a truce. I’m thinking of finding a new place anyway, something with a bigger backyard.”

Mrs. Jacobs stopped in the middle of Rach’s living room and no amount of nudging would get her to the door. Her expression was a mixture of horror and upset. “You can’t go anywhere, young lady. You have no idea how exciting things have been since you moved in. We old biddies won’t have anything to gossip about and no one to live vicariously through!”

“Surely you’ll find something else to talk about,” she smiled, unsure whether to be pleased or upset that she was the neighborhood entertainment.

“I highly doubt it. We’ll just get another old lady in this townhome and life will be boring once again.” She took the last few steps to the front door and turned to say, “I was meaning to ask you who that handsome man was you had over here. The one with the fancy black car?”

“No one special. Just a friend.” She could tell the answer hadn’t been what Mrs. Jacobs wanted to hear.

Rach managed to get the woman across the threshold with only a little force, but she turned to look back at Rach to say, “You think about staying a bit longer, this is a good neighborhood. There’s lots of hood rats around these days and it’s not safe for a young woman to live on her own. We watch out for our neighbors here.”

Rach nodded, nervously peering at Mrs. Petska’s front door. Mrs. Jacobs was about to leave when she turned to give Rach a sober look.

“Ever since her son ran off with that tramp in Vegas and left his wife and kids, Evelyn’s been a real bear. She won’t even talk to me anymore and we used to be such good friends. Now she just nags me every time I turn around. But she wasn’t always such an old harpy.”

“Well that makes sense,” Rach said, feeling sorry for her neighbor now. She sighed. “And now I’ll have to take it all down.”

Mrs. Jacobs grinned and pushed up the bill of her hat out of her eyes. “Not too soon, I hope. Brightens up the block.”

Chapter Eighteen

“A picnic,” Craig mumbled as he parked under the shade of an elm. He didn’t picnic. There wasn’t time in his schedule for that sort of thing, but he’d accepted Rick’s invitation without hesitation. Maybe it was his subconscious telling him he needed a break.
Or maybe it’s because you knew Red would be here
. He’d told himself to stay away, but he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind. When he tried to concentrate on business, he’d picture Rach.

The scent of fresh cut grass and fragrant flowers traveled to him on the soft, warm breeze. A feeling of tranquility rushed over him. When was the last time he’d taken an afternoon off?

Too long.
He couldn’t even remember. Leah had picked the perfect day to do what Craig would normally call bumming it.

He squinted against the sun, shielding his eyes with one hand against the blinding light. He spotted Leah and Rick and started toward where they sat on a blanket near the pond, their arms wrapped around each other and laughing. Craig had never seen Rick so happy before. Their mom was ecstatic, but she’d started bugging Craig again about finding a woman and settling down.

When he spotted Rach sitting near the couple, he slowed his steps to check her out before anyone noticed. She was beautiful, even with a huge straw hat sitting on top of her head. He smiled—the hat fit perfectly with her personality. Nothing she’d done since he met her had been ordinary.

“You came!” Leah greeted with a warm smile. Rach wasn’t as pleased to see him and he wasn’t surprised.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He went straight for Rach’s blanket, ignoring Rick’s raised brows. He stood over her while she pretended he didn’t exist. After a few moments it dawned on her that he wasn’t going to leave and she tilted her head under the large hat to look at his shoes. She then made a slow sweep up to bestow an unimpressed glare upon him.

Wow.
Her incredible eyes stared into his. He didn’t understand the quickened heartbeat and the warmth washing through him when she was near. It wasn’t something he could control. Why he was infatuated with her was a mystery. But he was.
And she’s probably crazy.
His last experience with her had been nothing short of bizarre.
Who hangs Christmas lights in April to piss off a neighbor?

“What do you think you’re doing?” She stared at him.

He sat down beside her, close, and enjoyed the way her glances went from pissed to nervous in a millisecond. He grinned and made a show of cozying into her side and her eyes narrowed again.

“I’m sitting, what does it look like,” he stated, feeling foolish sprawled beneath the tree in an expensive suit. He felt…wrinkled. He smoothed out his slacks. Rach snickered and he drew his brows together in annoyance. “What?”

“You don’t do this well, do you?”

“What’s that?” He wasn’t sure what she meant, but didn’t like the insinuation.

“Relax.”

“I relax just fine, thanks.” His reply had come out more moody than he intended. Her simple statement hit too close to home and he tried his best to sprawl out despite the restrictive clothing. He took off his suit jacket and tossed it behind them on the blanket.

“Would you like a sandwich?” Leah asked, pulling bottles of tea, wrapped sandwiches and containers of cold salads from a cooler.

“That would be great, thanks.” He swatted at a fly hovering too close to his head.

“Turkey or ham?” she asked, holding up two sandwiches wrapped in white paper.

“Turkey.”

Leah grinned and waggled her eyebrows. “That’s Rach’s favorite, too. She hates ham. Luckily, I made extra turkey just in case you were a turkey guy, and in case Rach’s bottomless pit of a stomach wanted two sandwiches.”

He smiled. “In that case, I’ll take ham.”

Rach mumbled something and he ignored her. He took the sandwich from Leah and ducked as she tossed one over his head to Rach, who caught it easily. He blinked in relief when he bit in and tasted smoked turkey. Leah winked at him and tossed him a bottle of tea and a small container of potato salad.

Unable to help himself, he tugged on the brim of Rach’s hat.

“Yes?” she sighed, but a smile tickled the corners of her lips.

“Just wondering if you feel okay today. You’ve gone a few minutes without insulting me.”

He sucked in a breath as her lips went into a full-blown smile.

She shrugged and said, “We have a few hours. I figure there’s plenty of time.”

She tucked long legs under her body Indian style, the smooth, creamy pale skin of her knees peeking out at him from the hem of the dark brown capris she wore. She wiggled bare toes painted a dark red. When had the sight of slim feet and manicured toenails become so alluring? Tally squeezed in between them and Craig scooted over to make room. She laid her muzzle on her paws and Craig shifted his attention there, giving her an absentminded pat. He attempted to keep his eyes riveted to the dog, but for some reason they wanted to keep looking at Rach. He gave in and glanced over at her.

A droplet of mayonnaise dribbled over her bottom lip and her pink tongue darted out to lick it up.
Lucky mayo.

“Besides,” she added between bites, “I came here to eat, not make you feel bad about yourself.”

“Gre-at,” he answered, coughing to mask the break in his voice. He turned his attention to his sandwich. A hunger for something other than food helped him finish off the sub in minutes but he was left unsatisfied. He was thinking of her lips, the taste of her and the feel of her in his arms.
Should have sat on the other blanket.

Still hungry, he reached for the potato salad and dug in. Her eyes were like a laser on the back of his head and without looking up from the Tupperware, he asked, “Now what?”

“Nothing,” she sniffed.

He shifted to eye her warily. “Since when do you answer me with single words?”

“Since I decided I’m not talking to you,” she answered with a shrug, crumpling up the white paper wrapper from her sub. She tossed it to Leah and said, “Not very much, anyway.”

Craig set the container down and leaned his face in close to her neck and enjoyed the startled jerk of her shoulders. Her eyes opened wide in surprise. But the move backfired because the scent of her was as intoxicating as he knew it would be.

His breath shifted a few strands of hair at the nape of her neck and he whispered, “Why, because you want me?”

Maybe if he’d have said something else she might have leaned in, closed the gap and sealed the deal with a nice kiss. Instead she rolled her eyes and pushed him away, and he chuckled.

“Oh, bite me.”

“My pleasure,” he grinned. He waggled his brows and made another move at her neck but she held up the potato salad to stop his advance.

“You’re incorrigible,” she said, breathless, her cheeks flushed.

She’s enjoying this.
The thought pleased him.

He settled back onto the blanket, propped up by his elbows, and stared out at the lake. Rach was on her back beside him now with the floppy hat propped over her face and her arms laid out above her head. Her blouse tightened over her chest, pressing against her small breasts. He could see her nipples through the material and the familiar rush of heat pooled low in his belly.