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“Can’t trust those senior citizens. They might try to stuff a canvas under the wheelchair or steal the paint to do some after-hours painting on each other if you know what I mean.”
Harper held her hand up. “Ew.”
“Didn’t you know senior centers are where it’s at? There’s a reason nursing homes have a high rate of STDs.”
“I do not want to think a woman three times my age can get more action than me. It’s depressing.”
“Maybe you can get some pointers from the women today.”
He’d given up on trying to give her pointers, since she never listened. He constantly told her she needed to raise her standards and stop going out with every guy she matched with online, but it was pointless. She was a stubborn one, who was determined to find Mr. Right. Milo just didn’t think she’d find him on a dating site.
She deserved a shift in the universe, cosmic stars aligning and all that jazz. God, he needed to stop letting Jasper have control of the remote. He just thought Harper deserved more than a computer telling her what guy to date. Whatever happened to meeting a guy at the bar or the beach? Then again, they knew every single person who lived in town, so the pickings were slim. Summer was on the horizon, though, bringing in an influx of out-of-towners who would make their way to Morgan’s Bay. There’d be plenty of single guys for Harper to choose from. Then again… the out-of-towners were usually rich jerks who spent more time grooming than she did.
No, they wouldn’t work either.
“The only pointers that will be given today are on how much red paint to use.” Harper teetered to her Jeep Wrangler and plopped all the supplies onto the backseat. She shook out her arms while Milo moved around her to put down the lot he’d taken from her.
“Need some help?”
“Why, you have nothing to do?” she asked.
“I have to pick Ms. Wheeler up to bring her to your class then I’m free. I’ll already be at the senior center, so if you need an assistant.” He tapped his chest with both hands and spun. “I’m your guy.”
“The old timers do love you for some reason.”
“It’s my irresistible charm.” He winked, and she shoved his shoulder with a laugh.
“Charm? Or it could be their inability to escape you?”
“I don’t know… Mr. Shultz is a speed demon with that new walker of his.”
Harper laughed, and like always, the sound was infectious. Her laugh could brighten the saddest of days. He pretended to use a walker, speed moving around her until she shook her head at his shenanigans.
“While I’d love to stay and watch you bust your ass eventually, I really have to go.”
He opened her driver door and waited for her to get inside. “I’ll see you there, then.” He shut the door, and she rolled down the window. He rested his arms on the ledge. “And you tell Mr. Anderson not to eat all the jelly donuts on me.” Harper always had the local donut shop deliver a couple dozen donuts for her events. Milo swore Mr. Anderson hid donuts under his shirt to bring home. All that were ever left when he was around, were the low sugar ones Harper bought for the seniors watching their sugar intake.
“I’ll put one aside for you.”
His lips spread wide from one cheek to the other. Harper’s hand met his face, and she playfully pushed him away. “Now go before Ms. Wheeler blows up your phone. You know how she is about being on time.”
“Oh, trust me, I know.” One time he got her to the senior center only five minutes before the local school choir performed their winter concert, and she got stuck sitting behind Mrs. O’Doherty who was five-ten and a good eight inches taller than Ms. Wheeler. Milo could still hear the nonstop complaining that entire drive back to Ms. Wheeler’s house. He learned his lesson that day. Whenever Ms. Wheeler needed a ride to the senior center, he made sure she was at least fifteen minutes early.
Harper’s phone rang, and she looked down at the screen. A smile bloomed on her face as she answered. “Hey Tom.” Her brother was her favorite person in the world. No one could steal that title away from him, not even Milo.
Annoyed wrinkles formed on her smooth forehead. It was a look he’d seen many times. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll figure it out.” She hung up and her hand fell loudly in her lap.
“What’s the matter?”
“Mom was supposed to drive Tom to work today, but she’s”—Harper air quoted—“sleeping. More like still drunk from last night. Now I’m going to be late for my own class.” She let out a perturbed breath and started the Jeep.
“Go to the senior center. I’ll swing by and grab him.”
“No, I—” He put his finger against her lips to stop her from arguing, and she promptly swatted it away.
He held his hand up. “Stop, we both know how this is going to go. You’ll argue, tell me, ‘No, Milo, I can’t expect you to do that,’ and I’ll say it’s no big deal, and we’ll go in circles for ten minutes wasting time until you agree, so agree now so we don’t waste any more time and I have to listen to Ms. Wheeler bitch about being late.”
“You’re a lifesaver.”
