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Mom: Good girl. Go grab your triumph by the balls!
Chapter Four
Dec
The woman was gorgeous in a frenzied, off-her-rocker kind of way. The downpour had ensured that her clothes were plastered to her body. Normally I liked a woman with a bit more curves, and Kenna Cugly—no, Kenna Ryan—had missed a few meals on more than a few occasions. The hole in her blouse was interesting, and somehow tantalizing, maybe because her outfit was so prim and proper I wondered if Ms. Ryan was a stereotypical virgin librarian. I knew that couldn’t be right, though, at the mention of a husband.
When she’d walked out of the room with her nose in the air and the hair pulled back so tight she looked like a former ballet dancer, Mel had looked at me, cheeks ruddy and eyes wide. He looked as confused as I felt. How was Maeve, vivacious, eccentric, force-of-nature Maeve, related to that disagreeable woman?
“Really, Maeve?” I said to the dissipating clouds outside of the lawyer’s office. The rain had stopped but the heat was rising fast, making the town feel like the inside of a wet sauna. I cranked the air-conditioning in the truck and pointed it toward home.
We’d spent hours talking about her estate, her impending death, and her thoughts of the afterlife over the last few months. Not once had Maeve mentioned she’d be tying me to her boat club posthumously.
And to her niece.
I pulled into my driveway and saw a figure on Maeve’s front porch. When the person stomped their foot and nearly knocked over their own suitcase when they threw their hands in the air, I recognized her by her disgruntled nature. Kenna.
My new neighbor.
I put the truck in park with a sigh and headed over the row of bushes on foot. If she couldn’t get that front door open, she’d eventually be banging on my door for help, seeing as I was the only neighbor for at least a half mile. Might as well save us both some time. Kenna stood on the porch, hands in fists by her side, staring at the door like her gaze alone might magically make it open.
“You gotta pull it to you while you unlock it,” I drawled, leaning against the post that held Maeve’s carved initials. “Then put your shoulder into it.”
Kenna whipped around, eyes as wide open as her mouth. Her hair was beginning to dry now, lightening up into a deep auburn brown. Little wisps around her face that escaped the bun prison had begun to curl. Her lower lip stuck out just enough to look like she was perpetually pouting. I suddenly wanted to nibble on it just to see what she’d do. Clearly, I was dehydrated and losing my mind.
“What the hell are you doing here? Are you stalking me now?”
She’d punch me right in the nuts if I even thought about getting close enough to kiss her, I was sure of it. I straightened away from the post and gestured to my truck. “I live next door, sugar.”
Kenna stood even taller, her ripped blouse looking like it had had one hell of a day. “I’m no one’s sugar.”
I smirked. “Vinegar, then?”
She spun around and inserted the key in the door once again, dismissing me entirely. I noticed she pulled this time like I’d suggested, and the thing popped right open when she pushed on it. Her hand reached back for the suitcase handle but she didn’t bother to look back. “Good day, Mr. Boggs.”
“It’s Dec,” I informed her backside.
I knew the moment she saw the inside of the house for the first time. Her wet shoe hovered in the air, undecided if it wanted to take that step across the threshold into Maeve’s house. I could smell the perfumed potted plants from here. Envision the avocado-green appliances and Formica countertops that took some getting used to. Feel the arctic blast of air-conditioning. Maeve had been old school when old school was definitely not cool.
Kenna let go of the suitcase handle, put her foot back down on the porch, and somehow shuffled sideways to sag heavily onto the wooden rocking chair that practically had a butt print of Maeve carved into the seat. Kenna slumped into the chair, an uncoordinated mess. Her skull made a thunk as she tipped her head back and closed her eyes.
“Ms. Ryan?” I squinted, wondering if she was okay. I was hoping she’d call up a taxi and head back home, leaving everything to me as it always should have been. Not because I wanted Maeve’s money, but because it sure would be easier that way. “Kenna?”
The chair began to rock, ever so slightly and then increasing into a manic back and forth that was making me dizzy. Her fingers ran over the little charms hanging from the silver chain around her wrist. Kenna’s pale skin had gone white, and if I wasn’t mistaken, there was a fine sheen of sweat on her brow. She probably wasn’t used to the heat out here in the tropics. It could take a man out if he wasn’t careful.
“Let’s get you and this suitcase inside, hmm?” I grabbed the handle and began to walk it to the front door. Kenna’s eyes flickered open, already pulling into a frown. “You have to be hot in that skirt and blouse. Even with a shoulder vent.”
Her head lolled in my direction. I prepared for a testy reply that would singe the hair all over my body. Instead, her frown morphed into something that resembled a crying baby I’d once seen at an airport. I’d cringed at the hideous sight, and believe me, it looked no better on a grown woman. Her eyes filled with tears, and I’d seen enough.
I shoved the suitcase through the door and reached down to grab Kenna’s arm. With a hearty yank, I got her to her feet. She let out a yelp, but at least it wasn’t a sob. I hated when women cried. They were messy and unpredictable when they leaked. But I loved Maeve and that meant I owed her. If she put both of us in her will, she clearly wanted me to show her niece enough kindness to get her on her own two feet, just like Maeve had done for me.
I held Kenna’s arm and put my other hand on her back, steering her into the house. “I know it looks like you just stepped back in time, but the bones are good.”
Kenna’s head swiveled to the kitchen on our right and she gasped. I felt the vibration of it in my hand where I touched her back. “My God…”
I helped her to one of the antique dining chairs Maeve had re-covered a couple years ago. The print featured bright pink flamingos on a blue background. “Maybe you can get a handyman to fix some things while you’re here?”
Kenna’s head swept left and right, taking in the place. From her vantage point, she had a view into the kitchen and the main living room where Maeve had the majority of her plants. Kenna’s hands gripped the table so hard her knuckles turned white. The place really was a bit of a dump. I’d offered countless times to help Maeve clean the place. Or even just update some things, but she’d refused. Said her plants liked their environment.
