Back in the Burbs by Tracy Wolff
Chapter Thirty-Nine
I’m not sure how long I lay in the hot sun, waiting for the snakes to attack.
Long enough for the foot-long grass to prick me through my clothes in every uncomfortable place imaginable.
Long enough for sweat to drip from every pore in my body.
More than long enough for me to wonder if I can hire a lawn service that takes sexual favors as payment. At this moment, I am happy to give as many blow jobs (condoms required) as necessary if it means I never have to do this again.
I’ve just begun contemplating whether I have the strength of will to crawl to the door in the back of the house or if I’m just going to die right here—not going to lie, the fact that dying on my front lawn is probably against HOA regulations makes the second option oh so much more appealing. I’m about to decide if I’m going to expire while flipping off the neighborhood or not when something moves between the burning sun and me.
“I’m impressed.” Nick’s warm, gravelly voice interrupts my final plan to stick it to the Huckleberry Hills HOA. “That had to take some effort.”
I open one eye (because two seems like too much investment) and look up. “It did. A lot of effort. And now I’m going to die.”
I close my eye again and would have totally tried for final death throes, but I’m afraid it will only make me sweat more.
“You are the strangest woman I have ever met,” he says with a bemused laugh.
“That’s not true.” This time I don’t even bother to open my eyes. “You knew Aunt Maggie, queen of the psychedelic vibrators.”
“True. But she left them to you, so you’ve inherited the title.” He doesn’t sound the least bit upset about the fact that I’m a little odd, not the way Karl would have been. Back when we were first married, he always complained when I danced a little in line at the post office or sang my favorite song while shopping in the produce aisle or wore my favorite red shoes anywhere.
At first, I stopped doing those things around him because I didn’t like making him feel uncomfortable. Eventually, I stopped doing them at all. It wasn’t a conscious decision to stop. I just got out of the habit of being happy.
Now, I realize as Nick takes hold of my hands and pulls me into a sitting position, I’m beginning to remember what happy feels like—so much so that when he lets go of my hands, I let myself fall backward onto the grass again just to make him laugh.
It works.
At least until he crouches down beside me and strokes a wayward, sweat-soaked curl out of my face. As the pads of his fingers graze my skin, we both stop laughing.
My eyes meet his warm brown ones, and suddenly I feel a little light-headed.
Heatstroke must be setting in, so I sit up abruptly. This time when Nick grabs on to my hands and starts to pull me to my feet, I let him.
“So what made you decide to go with SOS as your message?” he asks as we stand surveying my lawn and the three giant letters I mowed into it.
“The universe wasn’t answering my texts, so I went for something a little more in its face.”
He laughs again. “The universe really must not be paying attention, Mallory. Because everything about you is pretty much in your face.”
“Yeah, well, I’m taking that as a compliment.” I grin up at him.
“It was meant as one.”
Before I can think of something to say to that, he moves back out over the grass to the mower. “Why don’t you go inside and take a shower to cool down?”
“I think I’ll do that,” I say, grabbing on to the handle of the mower. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to park this around back for now. I’ll give it another go after dinner, when it doesn’t feel like Dante’s seventh circle of hell out here.”
“There you go, exaggerating again.” He shakes his head. “It’s really more like the fourth or fifth circle.”
“Says the man who hasn’t been trying to mow a jungle for the last hour and a half.” I roll my eyes and use all the strength I have left to push his behemoth of a lawn mower over to my side gate.
“Can I help you with that?” he asks, walking behind me.
“Nah.” I set my shoulders and do my best not to sound like I’m out of breath. It turns out it’s even harder to push the beast over grass when the motor is off and the self-propelling feature isn’t engaged. If someone tried to tell me that an hour ago, right before I gave up and mowed my first S, I wouldn’t have believed them. “I’ve got it.”
He eyes me skeptically. “You sure?”
“Absolutely.” I pause to catch my breath but pretend it’s to flex my muscles. “Wonder Woman’s got nothing on me. I mean, except big boobs, long legs, and a really great ass.”
I expect Nick to laugh along with me as we walk around to the side of the house, but he doesn’t. “You were more right the first time.”
“What first time?”
He lifts a brow. “When you said Wonder Woman had nothing on you.”
And then he turns and walks back down the driveway toward his house, leaving me staring after him with my mouth wide open.