And funny how he kept calling it “Faith’s backyard” when she wasn’t the one paying him for the job.
After drying off and putting on clean shorts and a T-shirt, he went downstairs to help Grandpa set the table.
“You’re awful cheerful for a kid who looks like he got into a fight with a Weed Eater,” Grandpa said, giving the scratches on his legs a look. “I guess you won the fight, then?”
Kyle bit back a grin. “Yeah, except I was doing battle with a holly bush.”
“Who’s the client?”
“You know those commercials for the Gladwell Foundation?”
Grandpa scratched the side of his head with a potholder. “The pretty lady asking for donations to help with juvenile cancer? I think I wrote them a big check last year.”
“So did Dad. Mrs. Gladwell is the one who hired me,” he said. “She wants me to redo her backyard. It was a freaking mess. Some hotshot landscaper overdid it, and I have to rip out a ton of worthless crap before I can fix it. All their photinias had fungus, and I saw some on the hollies. So they had to go before they ruined the good stuff.”
Dad came breezing into the kitchen and went to the fridge. He emerged with two Shiners and flipped one to Grandpa. “Kid, you need to wear jeans and long sleeves if you’re going to be diving into someone’s flower garden.”
Grandpa snorted into his beer. “I think he should wear a lot less than that if he’s diving into someone’s ‘flower garden.’” He made air quotes. “Otherwise, I don’t think it’ll work out so well.”
“Jesus, Dad.” Kyle’s dad laughed, shaking his head. “Does everything have to go there with you?”
“I may be old, but my plumbing still works. Maven seems to agree.” Grandpa nudged Kyle in the side. “How about it, kid? You got yourself a girlfriend?”
Kyle flushed and went to the counter to cut up some bread to go with dinner so he wouldn’t have to look at their hopeful faces. “Not exactly, but kind of.”
“Kind of?” Dad said.
“Not exactly?” Grandpa said.
“She’s a…a friend from school. But I think she likes me.” There, maybe that would shut them up. “Actually, she’s Mrs. Gladwell’s daughter. I, uh, I caught her checking me out while I was working in the backyard.” Forcing a little bravado into his voice, he added, “I sort of forgot to put my shirt on for that part.”
Grandpa roared with laughter, and Dad pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers, but he looked pleased. Not seeing him with any girls had worried them, and he couldn’t exactly tell them what he told guys at school—that he hooked up with college girls on the weekends. Well, he could probably tell Grandpa that, and get an “atta boy!” But Dad would give him a twenty-minute lecture on STDs. Hell to the no on that. He wasn’t going to endure a lecture for something that wasn’t true.
“She pretty?” Dad asked. “This Gladwell girl?”
Relieved he could be honest, he nodded. “A dancer. Great legs. She seems nice, too.”
“Good boy,” Grandpa said. The oven timer dinged, and he raced to pull the casserole out before it burned up. “Hardworking kid like you? You deserve a sweet, pretty girl on your arm. Bring her by if things get rolling. I’d like to meet her.”
“Me, too,” Dad said as they sat down to eat.
“Okay,” Kyle said weakly, wondering if he could convince Faith to pretend to be his girlfriend for their sake. He made sure to keep his mouth full for most of the meal so he wouldn’t have to say anything else.
Chapter Ten
Faith
Faith picked at her dinner, still burning with the humiliation of being caught ogling Kyle while he worked. God, he probably thought she was the most stupid girl he’d met. There were days when she thought he might be right. And today had been a real winner.
But those arms. Who wouldn’t stare at a guy like that attacking greenery with a spade like a knight with a sword? Good gracious…Kyle’s biceps alone were living proof there was a God, and that She loved the world.
A chuckle rose in Faith’s chest, making her choke on her lasagna. Dad pushed her water glass toward her, while Mom stared anxiously to make sure she was still breathing. She waved them both off. “I’m okay.”
“You scared me,” Mom said. “Ever since you choked on that grape—”
“I was seven.” Faith smiled fondly at her. “You can recover now.”
“You know Mom—she’ll never waste a chance to fret over her babies.” Winking, Dad rose and took his plate to the sink. He paused, peering out the window. “What on earth happened in the yard?”
“Oh! I hired a young man to fix it for us. For the luncheon,” Mom answered. “He’s a hard worker.”
“I’ll say,” Faith murmured.
Mom shot her an amused look. “I know it looks bad now, but I have a good feeling about this kid. He really seems to know what he’s doing. I had to make him go home, otherwise I’d bet he’d still be out there working.”