***
“I think we should husk first then web second. What do you think?” I ask as we pull into the our shared driveway.
“You really don’t have to help me. I think I can take it from here.”
I put the truck in park and turn toward her. “Are you really going to deprive me of decorating? That’s the best part.”
She gives me a once-over. “What’s your obsession with decorating houses?”
I casually grab the back of my neck and stare at my legs, not wanting her to see the pain in my eyes. “Never got to as a kid, so I guess I’m making up for lost time.” I don’t bother looking at Amelia or catching the way she reacts, as I’m sure it will hurt me even more. “You grab the bags, I’ll pull out the husks.”
Before she can respond, I hop out of the truck and quickly start tossing the husks into the yard.
“Aaron . . .” She comes up next to me, trying to start a conversation I don’t want to have.
“It’s getting late, and we have a lot of work to do. Unless you want to be egged tomorrow, we better get moving.”
“But . . .”
Sighing, I glance at her only to catch regret written all over her face. “Nothing to worry about, okay? We’re cool. Now get your ass moving.”
I dismiss her, and luckily she goes with it, never pushing too hard. That’s exactly what I was hoping she’d do.
Together we unload the truck, separating the decorations into sections of how we would put them up. This will be easy. Forty-five minutes tops, and yet I wish it will take us longer. Maybe I’ll dawdle, just to be able to spend more time with her.
“Oh my God,” she shouts as she’s on her way to grab some pushpins.
“What?” I call out, starting to pick out what husks to put where, grouping the taller ones together to put around the tree.
“Aaron, you have to come see this.”
Glancing up from my squatted position, I see her bent over on the porch, looking at something. A little worried, I jog up to her where she’s hovering over something on her welcome mat. “What is it?”
Standing, she holds out a carton of eggs and a note. “It’s from the golden-age gang.”
“What?” I chuckle, snagging the note from her and reading it out loud. “Best you watch yourself, missy. We’re onto you. And don’t corrupt our wonderful Aaron.” I laugh even harder; oh hell.
“It’s not funny.” She taps my stomach. “They’re going to superglue me to my lawn with their denture cream. I just know it.”
“You might possibly be right. Better watch your back, babe.” The term of endearment slips past my lips before I can stop it, but she must not notice or care because she doesn’t skip a beat when she holds the eggs close to her chest.
“Little do they know, I’ll be making breakfast with these tomorrow. Shows them.”
Awkwardly I laugh, still feeling weird about my slip-up. “Yeah, that will get them.”
“And you know what?” She points her finger at me. “I’m going to take a picture of me eating the scrambled eggs and print it on flyers with a note that says thanks for the eggs and stick it in all their mailboxes. Ha, nice try, saggy britches!”
“Okay.” I try to tamp her down. “You’re getting a little too excited.”
She starts jumping in place, her eyes looking wild. “I’m fired up. I feel like doing flips off the sides of their houses. Hold these.” She hands me the eggs and starts stomping toward the house next to hers. She gets in position, scratches her feet against the ground like a bull ready to charge, and that’s when I hop over her porch fence and grab her at the waist before she can make a total ass of herself.
“Hey, Simone Biles. Let’s simmer down for a second.”
“Let me at them, let me at them. I’m going to flip right off their houses.” She snarls and struggles against my grasp. Thankfully I put the eggs down before I hopped her porch so I can wrangle her back. For being a little thing, she sure does have a lot of power.
“There will be no flipping off houses. If you can even do that—”
“I can!”
“Okay, okay. You can flip off houses. I believe you, but we won’t be doing any of that tonight, nor will you be sending out flyers of you eating their eggs. You might think you have more energy than them, but they have numbers over you and will make your life a living hell. I’ve seen it. Don’t let their age fool you. They’re feisty. It’s best you get on their good side. Which you can do by decorating the house, okay?”
I have my arms wrapped around her, holding her back from doing anything ridiculous, and I have to admit, it feels fucking good to have her against my body again. I forgot how perfectly she fit, how right she feels.
Fuck, I have missed this.
Terribly.
I want it back. I want her back.
“Fine,” she huffs and puts space between us. She fixes her blouse that rode up slightly and pushes her hair behind her ears. “But you know I can flip off their house anytime I want.”
“Yup, got it, no doubt in my mind you would flip the shit off those houses.”
“Damn right.” Taking a deep breath, she says, “Let me get those pushpins and change. You get started.”
She retreats into the house, leaving me to put up the husks. Luckily, this isn’t my first time and I know exactly how to secure the husks while still making this look nice. By the time Amelia comes back outside, I have the oak tree done and I’m partially done with one of the posts on her porch.
“Wow, you’re quick.”
“Not my first time. Here, hold this string for me.” I hand her some of the twine while I stack up the husks.
Amelia shifts on her feet and says, “Hey, thanks for helping me out tonight. I know you didn’t have to, especially with how I’ve been acting toward you.”
“Don’t sweat it,” I answer, even though my heart is beating a mile a minute.
“I’m serious, Aaron. I want you to know I appreciate it and I’m sorry I’ve been such a bitch toward you.”
“Bitch, no. Cranky . . . maybe a little.” I chuckle.
“It’s your fault.”
“Yeah?” I put more stalks around the post and pull tight on the string Amelia is holding. “How do you figure?”
“Well, for one, you’re not supposed to live next door to me. For another, you’re not supposed to be all beefy with muscles.” Beefy with muscles? I like that.
“No?” I raise my eyebrows at her. “And how am I supposed to look?”
“You know.” She motions at my body. “Fat and bald. That’s what every woman wishes for her ex-boyfriend to become.”
I pause and give her a once-over. “Not like you make it easy for me either, Amelia. You’re the one I let get away, and then you come stomping onto my turf, my geriatric neighborhood, looking hot as fuck. Think that’s easy for me, hmm?” I give her a pointed look, which causes her to smile.
“You would live with a bunch of seniors.” Choosing to ignore my compliment, fair enough.
“Old neighbors who love to bake delicious treats equals free baked goods year around. I’m a genius.”
“I guess you are, an annoyingly attractive one.”