PosterBoyForAverage (2 page)

Once she was clean she also felt a bit more clearheaded.
Aubrey threw the windows open to air the place out. Then she made three trips
to the car to get her stuff. She’d traveled light, so it was only a matter of
two weekend bags, her camera gear, her laptop and tablet and some small things
she’d bought at the lake for the house.

The rest of the trips were devoted to Bruce’s gear. His bed,
his toys, his bones, his water and food bowls, his leashes and harness.

“You’re a lot of work,” she told him, setting it all down in
a corner. He promptly pranced through it, found a bone and took off for the den—his
favorite room in the small house.

“Right. You’re welcome.”

The sky was purpling but it was far from dusk. But she was
ready for that adult beverage anyway.

Aubrey found a box of nice wine—whoever thought box and nice
wine would ever be used in unison?—in the pantry and poured a glass. Then she
snagged her small digital camera, the no-big-deal camera, and wandered out
back. Bruce refused to come, which was good. Wrestling him into the tub for one
bath had been bad enough. She still needed to get the gardens under control.

She took a few slow sips of wine and tilted her head back to
the nearly departed sun. The lake had been a pleasure, but being home was a
treat. The feel of her own worn deck under her feet was nice. Even though it
needed pressure washing and sanding and repainting.

It was a thought that made her cringe inwardly. Manual labor
of that nature was not an enjoyable prospect to Aubrey. She’d much rather sit
on a deck and enjoy her surroundings than resurface it.

“Gotta get a guy,” she muttered. As if she could afford “a
guy”. But it was what her dad had always said when she was growing up. If
anyone in the neighborhood needed anything done, Pete Singleton had a single
response.
I got a guy.

Her mother had often teased her dad that people were going
to think he was involved with the mob. Truth be told, her dad knew just about
everyone in their small town of Parker Plains. So he really did know a guy for
everything. And he loved hooking up people who needed work done with folks who
needed jobs. It was as simple as that.

She set her wine down and shoved her feet into the flip-flops
she kept shoved beneath one of the built-in deck benches. Flip-flops were less
likely to welcome spiders than shoes with toes in them.

The garden was beyond overgrown, the vegetables wild. Overripe
ones had fallen to earth and begun to rot, while new ones were growing and
others were ripening on the vine. Aubrey bent at the waist and took a great
shot of something called a Mr. Stripey tomato. It lived up to its name, that
was for sure, and its ragged uneven orb shape was what delicious tomatoes were
made of. She snapped a few pics while moving her body just a bit to change the
angle.

“There.” Then she plucked the two largest Mr. Stripeys and
walked them over to the deck railing. She sat them on top and went back to see
about the crazed jalapeño plant. It was a boon of green ready for plucking. She
leaned in, almost kissed a lazy bumblebee and got a shot of some particularly
striking vegetables cradled in a bunch of white blooms that meant more were on
the way.

“Gotcha.” She shoved her camera in her pocket and pulled a
bunch of jalapeños, filling her upturned t-shirt like an apron.

“Remember to wash your hands.”

This time when she jumped she almost lost her shirt full of
peppers. “Jesus. You need to stop sneaking up on me,” she said.

He laughed and waved a bottle at her over the fence. “It
wasn’t dark yet, but I was ready for that adult beverage. I only said that
because I usually forget to wash my hands and then rub my eyes or sometimes…”
He coughed lightly. “Worse.”

“Ouch,” Aubrey said with a chuckle.

She felt that tumble-fall-tickle again in her belly and
waved a hand. “Come on over, Mike Sykes, new neighbor fella.”

“You sure?” He looked up at the sky.

“I’m not a vampire. It doesn’t have to be full darkness. I’m
going to go put these inside and wash my hands.” He chuckled. “Twice,” she
added.

Then she scurried inside, snagging the tomatoes on the way.
She refused to admit to even herself that the anticipation of him coming over
and sitting on her deck with her was a delicious prospect. It was lovely.

“Three months of abstaining from sexy surfer boys and you’re
going ass over teakettle over a bare-chested neighbor man? Sucker.”

Bruce came sauntering in to see if she was talking to him
and if that chatter possibly included food.

“Want to come out and sit with us on the deck?”

He seemed amenable.

“But no rolling in poison ivy,” she added.

He looked a bit crestfallen but otherwise eager. Together
they went out on the deck. She snagged a box of peanut brittle she’d bought at
the lake and some deer jerky she’d bought on the way out of town. With her luck
he’d be a vegan who was highly allergic to peanuts.

Let’s hope not.

There was something nice about seeing him sitting there in
one of her comfy deck chairs. He’d put his feet through the rungs and continued
to sip his hard cider.

“I have snacks,” she said. Her mouth had gone a little bit
dry and she found she was actually nervous. Her new neighbor made her nervous.
How silly was that?

He turned, already smiling, and Aubrey was struck again by
how handsome he was. Such a simple face, and yet perfect. Which was where the
handsome came from. A sharp but not too sharp jaw, high cheekbones, prominent
bright eyes. Even the little bit of stubble made it all so fucking perfect she
didn’t know where to look.

“Oh yeah? What ya got?”

“Very posh, I warn you.” She shook the box and bag at him
and nearly tripped over the dog, who thought she was brandishing treats.

“Um…corn nuts and turkey jerky.”

“Close. Peanut brittle and deer jerky.”

“Really? Where’d you score that?”

“On the way home from Greenhill Lake. There’s this farm
stand where the farmer must be a wizard or a warlock or some kind of magical
being because he sells strawberries that are like candy. Literally. They are so
sweet and perfect it boggles the mind.”

Aubrey handed him the bag of jerky and watched him tear it
open. His forearm flexed and something deep inside her belly—and possibly a bit
lower—mimicked that flex.

Mike put a piece of jerky in his mouth and began to chew.
His face was thoughtful, almost serene. Aubrey took it as a compliment, seeing
as how she was new to him. He caught her looking and cocked an eyebrow. Heat
flooded her cheeks.

“So the strawberries.” He grinned. It went straight to the
lowest part of her stomach. “What happened to them?”

“I ate them.”

She set the jerky and the peanut brittle on the sun-worn
table between the chairs. Retrieving her wine, she dropped into the seat next
to him and stared out at the yard. The sky was almost dark now. Fireflies began
to dot the lavender-shaded horizon with small glowing flickers.

“All of them?” He took a swig of his cider and laughed.

“All of them,” she confirmed. “And I wished I’d bought more,
to be honest. Those things…well, there are things that can only come from
nature and they only come at certain times. Like I said, I’m pretty sure he’s a
warlock because strawberries tend to really be at their peak in early summer.
So I bought two pints and—”

“Two pints!”

“Yes, two pints!” More heat in her cheeks, but it was fine.
He made her feel awake. And she didn’t even know anything about him yet. She
liked that.

Aubrey put her feet up on the railing and wiggled her toes.
She could hear Bruce circling Mike’s chair and she tried very hard not to
laugh.

“I think your dog is checking me out,” he whispered.

“He’s very protective.”

“I can see that. He won’t rip me to shreds, will he?”

She could tell that Mike was smiling even though the dark
had gotten darker. It didn’t come in increments at night. It seemed to go from
dusk to full dark in the blink of an eye.

“Maybe just your socks.”

“I’m not wearing socks.”

“Uh-oh,” she said and tsked.

Mike put his feet up on the railing and Bruce got up on his
haunches, balancing, to study him further.

“What is he anyway?”

“Part dachshund, part something else.”

“What’s the something else?” Mike reached down to pet Bruce
and she could make out her traitorous canine eating it up. He rolled to his
back and presented his belly.

“Superhero,” she said.

“Ah, that’s right.”

She ripped open the box of peanut brittle and barely managed
to get the bag open without spraying it everywhere. Then she bit into a piece
and moaned. “We think maybe Corgi. And something else. I have no idea. But he
sure is cute.”

“We?”

“My mom and I. We found him at a yard sale.”

Mike accepted the box of peanut brittle when she offered. “I
didn’t know they sold dogs at yard sales.”

Aubrey laughed. “He came barreling out from around back and
tried to jump in my purse. Their dog had just had a litter of puppies. The
owner offered him as a freebie if I bought the bike I was perusing.”

“And the bike?”

She pointed and then realized he couldn’t see her. Not
really. Just shadows vaguely backlit by the house. “Out in the shed. I got
ripped off for the bike but Bruce was well worth the tag price.” She sighed
contentedly. “Alcohol and sugar for dinner. Is there anything better?”

The bag of deer jerky was thrust into her lap. “Alcohol,
sugar and meat,” Mike said.

Aubrey grinned. “Touché.” She sipped her wine for a minute,
marveling at their companionable silence. Usually with new people if there was
too much silence, she felt panicky. Not now.

“So you…how did you end up here on Susan Avenue?” she asked
him.

“I’m divorced.”

“Ah. Recently?”

“Enough.” He set his cider bottle on the deck. Dead soldier.

“Can I get you a beer? I think I even have cider down in the
basement fridge.”

“Maybe in a minute.”

She went quiet again. Wiggling her toes. Watching the
fireflies. Liking the fatness of the autumn moon.

“I wanted a place to bring my boys on the weekend. A house.
Not an apartment. Though, as my oldest Joshua reminded me, the apartment had a
pool.” He made a sound that was almost a laugh.

“Ah, kids. They always remind you of the stuff you’d like to
forget.”

“Have any?” He turned to face her in the dark and that heat
returned to her cheeks.

“Nope. But I have a niece I spend as much time with as I can.”

“It’s even worse when you’re their parent,” he said.

“I can only imagine.” The wind picked up and tossed the
trees above their heads. Soon the leaves would be changing. In that sudden gust,
Aubrey could feel that sweater weather was headed their way. “You said
oldest…so that means you have a youngest.”

“I’ll take that beer now if you don’t mind.” There was a
small shift in his tone and Aubrey took notice. A hint of sadness. A stiffening
of the cadence of his speech.

“No problem. I don’t mind rummaging if you want that cider.”

“Beer is fine.”

When she stood she saw more of him in the soft glow from the
lamp in her living room. “Beer it is.”

God, he’s so handsome.

And that was it. He was handsome. Grown-man handsome. Not
pretty or sexy or hot. He had the look of mature masculinity. Boyhood gone, but
youth still present.

He reached out and snagged her wrist in his hand as she
moved to head inside. “Hey, Aubrey?”

She felt her pulse startle, go thready, quicken. Aubrey
wondered if he could feel it too. “Yes?”

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

His touch was light. Not overly intimate. But she couldn’t
help but imagine that hand pinning both of hers above her head. Pinning her
beneath his toned body as he moved over her. Into her. Her pulse jumped again.

“You seem like someone I should be nice to,” she said. “You
seem like someone everyone should be nice to.”

He shook his head and smiled, more than half his face hidden
by the fall evening. “Thank you.”

“What was that?” Aubrey whispered aloud. She looked down and
realized Bruce had stayed with their visitor. “And no dog to talk to. That felt
like a moment. Was it a moment?”

Her hand seemed to tingle where he’d touched it. She stopped
in the short hallway that led to her basement door and shut her eyes. When she
did that, her skin almost throbbed, as if he’d burned her. But it didn’t hurt.
It was a pleasant throb. “Which just sounds perverted,” she said and hurried
down to the basement. She got all the way down and realized he’d actually said
beer was fine. It was okay though. It gave her a few minutes to get herself
together and get her runaway heart to calm down.

On the way from the kitchen she snagged her camera and set
it on night setting. Then she stood in the archway between the living room and
sunroom and zoomed until she got a good angle and the perfect light. Then she
fired off a few quick shots just to calm the jonesing she felt to capture his
image.

When she dropped into her seat and handed over his beer, he
said, “I let you take my picture because you’re giving me beer.”

Aubrey snorted. “You must have an ear on you. That camera’s
pretty quiet.”

“I take it you are either a very serious hobbyist or a
professional.”

“Started as one, morphed into the other. Now I run my own
indie company. That’s indie with a capital pain in the ass.”

“Good to know.”

“Nice try on changing the subject though. I detected a
change in your tone when I brought up your youngest.”

He sighed and the beer hissed when he cracked it. “My
youngest is named Chuck and he has cystic fibrosis.”

“Ah…I didn’t mean to pry. I’m really sorr—”

“Don’t be sorry. It’s just part of why I wanted a house. I
wanted him to have a home to come to on the weekends he’s able to come see me.
He’s been in and out of the hospital a lot lately. Which is stressful. So me
and his mom. We kind of butt heads.”

“It happens. Stress can be hell on a marriage.”

“Or end it.”

“I’m sorry.” There was a sudden, fleeting urge to reach out
and take his hand. It startled Aubrey. It wasn’t so much her nature to be
comforting to someone she’d just met.

“Me too. And so is his mom. We’re still friends. We’re
probably better friends than spouses.” He took a swig of beer and then turned
suddenly to look at her. “Look at me livening up this meet-and-greet with my
happy tales!”

Aubrey laughed, almost spitting out her wine. “Hey, I asked.
No big deal. The truth is the truth. I didn’t ask you over to entertain me. I
asked you so we could get to know each other.”

He snagged another piece of peanut brittle. “So, no pool,”
he said, waving a hand at the backyard.

She hadn’t told him that a small part of why she’d invited
him over—part of what had caught her eye was his wonderful build. Clean good
looks. Kindness that was visible at a glance. All that handsome hunky stuff her
eye was programmed to pick up on.

“Well…you could buy them a pool. An above-ground would work
in that yard. The couple two doors down in the opposite direction have one for
their kids. And they seem to like it.”

Mike rubbed his fingers together. “One small problem. I blew
all my dough buying this house. I can’t even paint this year. I have to use
every penny for mortgage, bills and food. And medical bills, of course.”

She almost bit her tongue to keep it to herself but her
tongue was too fast. “I know how you can earn some money.”

He turned his body so he faced her. “Is it legal?”

“Yep.”

He ran a hand through his hair and said, “Well, that’s sweet
of you, Aubrey, but I barely have time for one job, let alone two.”

“What do you do?” she asked, realizing she’d never asked.

“I’m a roofer. I work all day up high and in the sun. Unless
it’s raining and windy. Then I pretend I’m a tightrope walker. Keeps me from
barfing. I’m not fond of heights.”

She clapped her hands. “You’re afraid of heights and you’re
a roofer?”

He nodded, barely covering a smile with his hand. “I know.
Crazy. But my dad got me the job in college and despite my mild phobia I’m good
at it. It’s good money and the company I work for has good benefits.” He
leveled a finger at her. “And that is the part that has been priceless.”

Another urge—this one to lean forward and suck that finger
into her mouth, roll her tongue over it—assaulted Aubrey and her heart gave a
little kick.

“Well, what if I told you that you can fit this other job in
whenever you can. And you can do it in the privacy of your own home. Or mine.
And it pays well.”

He cocked an eyebrow. Now that he’d turned to her the inside
lights revealed more of his face to her. “Are you asking me to be your male
escort, Aubrey?”

This time she did choke on her wine. Laughter rolled through
her, shaking her chest and making her eyes tear. It wasn’t lost on her that she
hadn’t laughed like that all summer. Not really.

“Um…no! I am not that kind of girl, Mr. Sykes. I don’t have
to pay for it.”

His smile widened. “Oh trust me, I know. I was kidding.
Beautiful girl like you? I was flattering myself there for a moment. Just to
humor my bruised ego.”

“Push aside that bruised ego, because what I’m asking you to
do is model for me. Let me take your picture. I mainly do shoots—of my own
choosing—for romance book covers. I don’t just take photographs, I do book
covers.”

“Romance book covers!” Now he was laughing in earnest,
putting his head down in his hands.

“Yes. What’s so funny about that?”

“Nothing about that. I can see you doing that. You’re very
intense with your picture taking. I bet you make kick-ass covers. But me…” He
patted himself as if checking for his phone or wallet. “I’m the poster boy for
average.”

“Do you own a mirror?”

“I own a bunch! Enough to see a thirty-five-year-old man
with some shots of gray in his hair!” He chuckled and swigged his beer.

“A thirty-five-year-old man built like a well-built
twenty-five-year-old man. And it’s silver not gray. Just so you know.”

He looked surprised. Surprised enough that she smiled.

“I—”

“Look, I know it’s easy to pull ourselves apart. See all the
bad stuff instead of all the good. But I have news for you, Mike. You are hot.
And I bet I could sell multiple covers with you on them. All you have to do is
let me take some pictures. I’ll do the rest.”

“You’re nuts,” he said amiably.

Aubrey grinned. “No I’m not. I’m a genius. At least when it
comes to this stuff, I am. My friend from kindergarten, Duke…he was the class
nerd. All through our growing up. Around twenty he sort of blossomed. He was
one of my first models. Mainly so I’d have a portfolio. I thought maybe I could
make him a little money but mostly he was doing me a favor.” She sipped her
wine, waiting for a minute to give the story more impact.

“And…” Mike said, rolling his hands in the air to hurry her
along.

She grinned, knowing she had him. “And when I began trying
for some of these big jobs, he was the one who kept getting picked over and
over again. Who knew a few years and a newfound love of working out could make
a career? But he’s still one of my biggest models. He makes quite a bit of
money and he makes me some decent money in the process.”

“So when you sell the covers I get money?”

“Nope. I’ll float you an advance. I’ll bet on you to win, Mr.
Sykes. I’ll give you a thousand-dollar advance.”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“You can. And you should. I’m sure my bet will pay off. You
have a certain…” It was Aubrey’s turn to wave her hands around. “Gentle
aggression.”

“What the hell does that mean?” He tipped his head back and
she could see he was laughing softly.

“It means you are manly and a bit alpha, but not to the
point where you’re a turn-off. You aren’t threatening but you are…manly.”

“Well, being a man and all…I do try.”

“Trust me,” she said.

“It would get me one of those pools you talked about.”

“It would.”

“Okay, I’ll do it. On one condition.”

“Which is?”

“If it fails, if I’m a big fat goose egg as far as selling
covers, you’ll let me pay you back. It might take awhile but you have to let me.”

“Fine,” she said.

“You said that awfully fast.” He chuckled.

“Because I’m never wrong. So it’s never going to happen.” He
finished his beer. “Want one more for the road?”

“You don’t mind?”

“I can think of nothing more wonderful than some
companionable drinking on one of the first truly crisp fall nights. I’m going
to grab myself a sweatshirt and I’ll get you a refill.” She shook her wineglass.
“Oh and look at that. I need one too.”

* * * * *

“I’m just being nice,” she reminded herself. “I’m just being
friendly. Helping him out. I am certainly not ready for anything beyond
friendship. And neither is he.” She looked down and once more realized Bruce
had not accompanied her.

“Well, I know where you stand, you little shit. Or should I say
lie? As in…under his seat?”

But Aubrey was grinning as she grabbed a beer and then
filled her wineglass. This was good. She could sell him. She could build a few
covers around him just in her head as she steadied herself to go back to the
deck. What the hell was with the nervous energy ping-ponging around in her gut?
She felt flighty and giggly and just plain stupid.

“Ridiculous.”

But the slight quiver in her knees as she headed out to the
deck told her maybe she was full of shit. Just maybe.

“Here we go,” she said.

Bruce, lounging on the deck, stood and wagged his tail at
her. He knew he was a traitor but seemed perfectly content with it.

“Thanks. I’ve been thinking about it,” Mike said.

“What?”

“My job as the most boring cover model ever.”

“I think you’ll be surprised. We often don’t see ourselves
for who we are. It’s normal. Human nature.”

“Ah, so I see a beat-to-hell, past-thirty man who feels like
he has the weight of the world on his shoulders and you see…”

“A cover model who just needs the right setting to set
women’s hearts going pitter-patter.”

Aubrey put her feet up on the rail again as he chuckled.

“You go ahead and laugh,” she said. “Me? I’ll be laughing
all the way to the bank.”

He grunted then. She’d taken him down a notch.
Good.
It would be healthy for him to learn that he was an attractive man. Everyone
needed positive reinforcement.

They sat in easy silence—a miracle in itself—until the adult
beverages were gone. And then Mike went home. He surprised her by leaning in
and kissing her on the cheek.

“I didn’t know my new house came with a guardian angel,” he
said. And then turned away and left her speechless.