Page 9 of Delay of Game (Norwalk Breakers #4)
NINE
GRACIE
Two days away from the first day of school, the building teemed with activity.
Outside my classroom, teachers buzzed up and down the hall, holding pictures and books and containers filled with art supplies.
Music floated out of every classroom, ranging from classical in the art rooms to heavily censored rap in the science lab.
Despite the week to ready our classroom, the tables sat bare, and Lily took off in search of glue sticks, leaving me to unpack our classroom’s extensive library. Favorites like The Creepy Crayon and Can I Give You a Squish? slotted into place, I took a break from unpacking to check my phone.
Well, not my phone. My texts.
One text.
ROB
What time should I come over to check the place out?
I read the text for the millionth time since I’d woken up to it that morning. How the hell was I supposed to respond to that?
While we lived in the same neighborhood, Rob couldn’t possibly be interested in my aunt’s property.
The rental market so far outside the city center sucked, and none of his property came close to her land.
The man had money, but I doubted he was buying pity property. Especially from someone he barely knew.
Still, my parents wouldn’t fly in for weeks yet.
And even then, they would only stay long enough to sign any paperwork and help with final touches on a house I hadn’t even cleaned out yet.
All of Aunt Mercy’s money was tied up in providing her round-the-clock care, and the house sale would ensure that our family wouldn’t have to pay out of pocket for future care.
We needed to sell the house for as much as possible.
But the housing market at our end of Norwalk wasn’t exactly on fire. While the downtown homes and buildings went for millions in bidding wars, the people buying north of the city wanted acreage, not the rundown, turn of the century, two story single-family homes.
But Aunt Mercy’s home wasn’t another cookie-cutter farmhouse. The sweeping staircase and old pine paneling gave it some architectural charm impossible to find in the surrounding homes. If only I could get someone to look past the wear and tear.
I just couldn’t understand why Rob was interested.
I don’t have a realtor…
I sent the text, unsure what hours football players kept. Was he in a locker room? Home? The field? According to Mila, he spent most of his free time there, and I doubted he brought his phone.
I went to pocket my phone when it buzzed in my hand.
ROB
Do you need one?
I frowned at the phone. Maybe I didn’t. Maybe fancy football players just purchased entire houses outright on sight.
I guess not. Tonight?
Six?
ROB
Great.
Did he even have my address? Probably from his mom. Avoiding the urge to overthink and over-analyze the text exchange, I slipped my phone face down onto my desk before returning to the library.
“Holy shit.” Lily burst into the room lugging a weighed-down fabric bag behind her. “It is crazy out there. No one did their back-to-school shopping early this year.”
I eyed the strip of fabric hanging out of the bag that looked suspiciously like a bikini, something we had definitely not put on the list of last-minute supplies Lily had gone to buy. “What happened to just picking up a thing or two?”
Lily grinned, plopping the bag on a table and fanning her face in mock exhaustion. “They had markdowns on summer wear. And we’re still due a heat wave. I don’t want to end up at the beach with nothing new to wear.”
“Outstanding,” I said lamely, acutely aware of how perilously close my bank account hovered around zero.
I budgeted for the unpaid summer months, but when we lived together, I’d had to lean slightly more heavily on Aunt Mercy’s monthly checks.
I would have loved a summer job. Mixing drinks at a local bar like Lily or lifeguarding at the public pool like the gym teacher Ryder, but somewhere along the way, the roommate situation with my great aunt turned into a caregiver position, and I didn’t have time for another job.
“I bought you a little something, too,” Lily crooned as she dug through the bag.
“You didn’t need to do that.”
“Consider it a back-to-school present.” She pulled a pink box out and handed it over.
“A pink tool set?” I asked incredulously.
“You said you needed a screwdriver.” She leaned over the toolkit, splaying her hand under the photo on the box that showed its contents. “Now, you have a hammer and a screwdriver and a level. I don’t know what you need a level for, but I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
“Thank you,” I said, tucking the tools under my purse. “I’m assuming this is your way of telling me you have no intention of helping me fix up the house.”
She grinned. “Not a chance.”
I sped down my street, pulling into the driveway with a wince. The clock read 6:05, and the black SUV parked on the curb only confirmed what I already knew: I was late.
And Rob didn’t strike me as the type of guy who appreciated tardiness. Collecting the empty bags, my purse, and the toolkit off the passenger seat, I hustled out of the car. Rob stood on the porch, his back to me and his head craned up toward the corner of the porch.
Too late, I weighed whether I should have spent a few minutes in the car to make sure I looked decent. I’d spent the afternoon organizing the art center and smoke bombed myself with a container of gold glitter. I’d rinsed most of it off, but certainly not all.
“Do you know you have wasps up here?” His voice echoed in the enclosed porch, but he didn’t tear his eyes away from it, giving me time to appreciate the sheer size of him.
Broad shoulders, impossibly tall, and a surprisingly nice ass to boot.
Too bad the look of concern on his fact kept me from fully appreciating his body.
“Wasps?”
“That’s a nest.” He pointed again.
I set down my bags and ducked around him, trying to get an unobstructed view while keeping my distance.
The stacked boxes and furniture destined for donation made that attempt impossible.
His thick scent of pepper and leather hit my nose and weakened my knees, just a little.
I clenched my jaw and followed his gaze to the papery half-globe attached to the siding just below the overhang. “Are you sure?”
He huffed. “I’m sure as shit not touching it, but yeah, that’s a wasp's nest. We’ll need to check if there’s anything alive in it before we take it down.”
We? I snagged on the word, whipping my head into his bicep and smacking it with a thud.
“Ow.” I pressed my palm to my temple and stumbled back.
“Are you okay?” His face crumpled, confused. “What the hell happened?”
“We?” I winced, my cheek throbbing. “If you’re interested in the house, can’t we just work out an ‘as-is’ situation?”
His eyebrows raised. “What are you talking about? I’m not buying your house. Why would I do that?”
“Isn’t that what you football players do? Scoop up real estate? Flip it? Gentrify it?” The faint throbbing died away, and I dropped my hand, stepping back to the other side of the porch.
“How many football players do you know again?” He frowned.
“None, but I read the gossip columns.”
“Ah, the gossip columns. Well, in that case, you should know that I don’t scoop up real estate. I have one piece of real estate, which is more than enough. Thanks though, for offering me your wasp-infested house.”
“Why are you here if you don’t want to buy it?” I dug my keys out of purse.
“I’m here to help you fix the place up.”
I fumbled with my keys, unsure if I’d heard him correctly. “You what? Why?”
“Because my mom thought you needed help.”
I cocked my head, eyes narrowing on his. “But you don’t want to?”
“Who the hell wants to help someone else with their house repairs?” He scoffed.
“That’s a good point.”
“But trust me, it’s better for both of us if you let me help you out. I’m not fucking with any wasps, but show me around inside, and I bet there are a few things I can get off your to-do list.”
“It’s a pretty big to-do list,” I admitted as I slotted my key into the door. “I can just tell your mom you offered to help and I turned you down. I’ll lie and say I got a general contractor.”
He snorted. “You can’t lie worth shit.”
“I can, too,” I said, more convincingly. It’s not that I couldn’t lie, I just didn’t. I didn’t have any reasons to lie.
“Lie to me.”
“What would that prove?” I asked. “If you know I’m lying.”
“Good point,” he conceded, raking his hand through his hair. “Two truths and a lie, then. If I guess a truth, you can lie to my mom. If I figure out your lie, I help you with the house.”
“I don’t want to lie to your mom. I just could.”
He shook his head with a bemused smile on his lips. “So, what is it? Two truths and a lie or are you handing over that list?”
He distilled my options into two, both not great. I certainly didn’t want to lie to Gloria. She was a good friend of Aunt Mercy, and I liked her. Sure, it was a harmless lie, but the guilt would eat at me, especially since I’d be seeing a lot of her this year.
But Rob wandering around my house? In my space? Working alongside me? He was temperamental at best, and despite the few occasions when we’d had a pleasant conversation, I couldn’t shake our first meeting. Or the way my entire body seemed to tense around him.
“I went skydiving for my twentieth birthday. I dressed up as a sexy bunny for Halloween last year with a friend. I’m allergic to strawberries.”
His eyes narrowed on mine, studying my face with an intensity that made my cheeks flush and my entire body hot. “Sexy bunny?”
“My friend dressed like a sexy turtle. It was her idea,” I said, belatedly wishing I’d picked any other fact except that incredibly inappropriate fact.
His mouth narrowed to a thin line, and he nodded. “Okay. So, you’re lying to my mom?”
I worried my bottom lip, eyes darting to the open door. “Come on in. Let me show you my list.”