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Dave mounted the steps on the left half of the wide porch that fronted the duplex. The place was tidy and neat, red brick with black shutters on all the windows. Windows that were currently devoid of light. He juggled two sacks of food and a drink carrier. Not finding a doorbell, he gently kicked the bottom of the storm door. “Lisa.” He waited a few moments before increasing the force of the kicks. Nothing.
He turned in a complete circle and noticed for the first time that her car wasn’t in the drive. How did I stop at Sonic and beat her back here? Dave glanced around with a frustrated sigh, looking for someplace other than the floor of the porch to set the food. In the quickly gathering dusk he spotted an old wooden swing on the other side of the deck. He crossed the creaking boards, set the bags in the swing and pulled his phone from his pocket. He opened the note he’d made of her address and compared it to the house number. He had the right place. What could she... He turned when headlights swept across him and watched Lisa’s car pull into the driveway.
She waved at him as she got out. “Sorry, small change in plans.” She ducked back into the car, emerged with sacks, and held them up. “I got Mexican.”
Dave frowned at her and motioned to the swing. “I thought you wanted a Coney.”
Lisa came up the steps. “I know. But I passed some guy selling tacos out of a vending trailer out on the highway. Had my mouth watering so bad I almost drooled on myself. I had to stop. I’d have called you, but I didn’t have your number. Don’t worry, I bought enough to share.” She dumped the bags into his arms and turned to unlock the door. “Who knows? Tacos with onion rings and chocolate shakes just may be the next great food sensation.” Lisa nudged the door open with her foot, turned back for the bags, and jerked her head in the direction of the door. “Grab the shakes and come on in. I’m starving.”
She swished through the door like a tornado on the open prairie, leaving Dave blinking in her wake. He turned to retrieve the sonic bags. How could she send him for food, then stop to buy food on her way home? Did she really expect him to be good with that? Dave didn’t know what to think or do. The idea of combining chocolate shakes with roach coach tacos came close to turning his stomach.
“You coming?”
Dave looked up to see Lisa leaning out the door and smiling.
“Umm...sure.” He followed her into the house and hesitated in the doorway, dismayed. Unpacked boxes were stacked in the middle of the room. The bare wall opposite the front door was covered in random strokes of paint in various colors. It looked a bit like a four-year-old had been turned loose with finger paints. Old newspapers covered the floor, and more lay in piles around the room next to cans and brushes. He swallowed and rolled his head on his shoulders at the sudden itch that formed between his shoulder blades. There was no furniture in the room save a paint-stained coffee table, two lawn chairs, and a flat-screen TV sitting on a stand made out of stacked milk crates.
Lisa motioned to the low table. “Just put the food there. I’ll get some paper plates and napkins. Sorry about the mess.” She called over her shoulder, “Like I said, I’m painting and working on the floors. And since I haven’t decided if I’m staying beyond the summer, there wasn’t much point in buying a bunch of furniture or unpacking my stuff.”
He stared at the thick layer of dust on the table she’d indicated. “Better bring a damp rag too.”
“For?”
Seriously? “You could plant a garden on this table.” He did his best to keep his comment light, but the mess of this room made his skin crawl. The house wasn’t dirty, just in total disarray. How does she live like this? This would...was...driving him crazy. Buck up, Sisko. You can deal with this.
Lisa came back into the room, gave the table a cursory swipe, and started setting food out on plates and napkins. She pulled one of the lawn chairs close to the table and sat, motioning to the other. “Help yourself.”
Dave did as instructed. He handed Lisa a shake and watched her take a healthy slurp on the heels of a taco oozing with salsa and guacamole.
“That’s pretty good.” She unwrapped a second and motioned to the stack. “Better hurry. You’re almost two behind.”
Dave blew out a breath and fished his cheeseburger out of the bag. He spread the wrapper on the table, smoothing the wrinkles as best he could before laying his order of onion rings on the paper. “I think I’ll stick with this, thanks.” As hungry as he was, the chaos in the room was overriding his appetite. If he didn’t get out of here, he’d start cleaning her house, and he didn’t think that would earn him any points. He bowed his head and focused on his food. Father, I really like this girl and I don’t want to blow it. Please give me strength.
“I’m sorry,” Lisa whispered.
He looked up. “What?”
“You were so sweet, offering to buy my dinner, and I totally messed that up.” She picked at the breading on an onion ring. Small golden crumbs fell to the table.
Dave stared at them, itching to rake them into a neat pile, to dispose of them.
Lisa continued. “I have a really bad habit of acting before I think things through. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. Forgive me?”
Dave forced his gaze from the crumbs and found himself staring into her expressive brown eyes. He could get lost there. If he concentrated his attention there, maybe he could beat back the impulses begging him to take some action. “It’s OK.”
“Really? Because you had such a serious frown on your face.”
“Oh, I was trying to think of the best way to tell you how beautiful you are.”
Her response was a dazzling smile. “Nice save.”
Dave grinned in return, and the demons pressing at his consciousness retreated a step. He pried his gaze from hers and looked at the burger in his hands. Just breathe and eat. He took a healthy bite. “Where’s the kitten?”
“I left her in the bathroom this morning. I won’t give her unsupervised run of the house until I’m sure she’s good with the litter box.”
“How’s that going?”
“So far so good. I’ll check on her after we eat, but since we’re painting, I’ll leave her in there for now.”
“Probably for the best.” He motioned around the room while he chewed. He swallowed and said, “You’ve got quite a...mess...happening here. Tell me what you’re doing to the place.”
“Floors and walls for now. All of the rooms had some minor sheetrock damage that needed fixing. I did that yesterday.” She swiped at the remaining dust on the table. “That’s where this came from. Once I get the painting done throughout, I’ll tackle the floors.”
“Carpet?” he asked.
“Are you kidding me?” She kicked some of the newspaper aside and tapped the exposed wood with her foot. “This is real wood, that’s why I’m trying to keep it covered. I’ll strip it and give it some new varnish. It’ll be beautiful.”
Dave looked around, nodding in agreement. “I can see it.” He wiped a smudge of ketchup from the corner of his mouth. “You’re pretty handy for a girl.”
***
LISA SAT BACK AND STARED at him. Sexist, full-of-himself jerk. She pointed a half-eaten onion ring in his direction. When she spoke, her voice carried the twang of an artificial Southern accent. “Oh, don’t you worry none, sugar. I can cook, clean, and rear the chillen’ with the rest of the women folk.” She straightened, her voice returning to normal. “But I enjoy working with my hands, and I can comprehend a tutorial video on YouTube just fine, thank you very much.” She leaned forward and swept the trash from their dinner into an empty bag.
Dave placed a hand on hers, and she looked up. Electricity zapped up her arm, leaving her fingers tingling in the aftermath. Lisa jerked her hand free and focused on her chore.
“I’m sorry,” Dave said. “I guess I was thinking about last week’s girly girl with the injured thumb.” He stood and stepped into her space until she had no choice but to look at him. “If you’ll forgive me, we can be even.”
Lisa averted her eyes as heat flooded her cheeks at the reminder of her manufactured meet-the-hunk injury. That was before I found out he was a preacher. Another reminder, but this one straightened her back. “I’m good with even,” she told him, all business. “We better get a move on if we want to get those two rooms painted.”
Dave took the trash bag from her hands. “Why don’t you go check on the kitten—”
“Snowflake.”
“Nice, and sort out what needs to be done while I clean up this mess? When I’m finished, you can show me what you want me to do.”
She blinked at him. Cleaning was never at the top of her list. “Sure.”
Dave went one way and Lisa the other. She peeked into the bathroom. Snowflake was asleep on the rug. The litter box showed signs of use. “Good girl,” she whispered. She eased the door shut, stood in the hall, and studied the rooms on either side. Her bedroom and the spare. Her room held a bed and more boxes. She wasn’t sure what the spare would be just yet. She had lots of things in storage—books, an elliptical, a daybed she’d picked up at a recent yard sale. She had tons of options. What she didn’t have was a decision about her future in Harrison.
The paint for the spare was a robin’s egg blue, and for her room she’d settled on a pale yellow. There would be no impersonal white or boring beige in her home. Lisa decided to give Dave the blue room. She wanted the satisfaction of sprucing up her own space.
She returned to the living room and stopped in her tracks. The dinner mess was more than cleared away. The table was wiped to a shine. The lawn chairs were positioned neatly in front of the television. And unless she was mistaken, the newspapers taped to the floor had been swept, because there wasn’t an onion ring crumb in sight. She frowned, then recalled Jemma’s comment about Dave being a bit OCD. The memory also explained Dave’s reaction to the tacos. He’d covered it well, but the impulse purchase had bothered him. She probably should have resisted the urge, but spontaneity kept her life interesting.
Between her tacos and his cleaning, Lisa figured they were about even on the annoyance scale, with the indicator hovering somewhere in the middle, between zero and extreme. She brushed the visual aside. If they were going to be friends, allowances would need to be made on both sides.
Dave came into the room, drying his hands on a towel. “Are we ready?”
“Yeah.” She motioned to the room. “Looks good.”
He ducked his head. “Oh, you know...a job worth doing...”
“Is worth doing well.” Lisa finished the cliché and motioned for him to follow. “Let’s see how good you are at painting.”