Page 17 of Fragile hearts

“You broke into my house in the mid—”

“I did not break into your house. I had a key.”

“Why did you even have a key?”

He lifts his shoulder in a half shrug. “I renovated it, forgot to give the key back.”

“You renovated it?” I glance at him with wide eyes. I had no idea he was the one who did it. I thought the broker hired someone. “Well, you did a good job,” I say.

A smile appears on his face. “Thank you, it’s something I do outside of work.”

“I guess you’re good with your hands then?”

He smirks, leaning closer to me, his arms on the table. “What if I am?”

My mouth drops open.

“I’m joking,” he says, grinning, holding up his hands in surrender.

I gulp down a sip of water, trying to cool my burning body down.

“To answer your question.” He sits upright, cracking his back. “I didn’t realize what time it was.”

“The color of the sky wasn’t a hint to you.” Carson shakes his head.

“I had grabbed your bags earlier that day. But forgot to bring them, and I couldn’t sleep, so I thought if I were quiet you wouldn’t notice.”

“I don’t mean to offend you, but you weren’t exactly quiet.”

“Yeah, I gathered that when you tried to attack me with my baseball bat.”

“Well, I didn’t know it was you! I thought someone was going to kidnap me.”

“If I wanted to take you anywhere, I would ask, Sunshine. But I must say, your swing was pretty impressive.”

“You gotta thank my best friend for that. He taught me.”

“Well, he did a great job. If I were a real kidnapper and not an innocent civilian who knows how to defend themselves against a bat, you would have hit him.”

“Innocent civilian?” I sputter. “If you didn’t give me an almost heart attack, I wouldn’t have needed to defend myself.”

“I was just trying to be nice, and by the way, you said I had redeemed myself by mowing your lawn, so we should be even now.”

“We are, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t scare me.” He taps his fingers on the table, near my hand. “I promise I’ll be on my best behavior, no more entering houses in the middle of the night.” He holds his left hand over his heart.

I chuckle. “We will see.”

“Carson, Alexis, you made it!” Cathy nears our table, a big smile on her face.

“We’ve been here a while, Mom,” Carson tells his mother.

Cathy’s eyes widen as she hits her son on the arm with a towel. Carson shrieks, “What the fuck, Mom? That hurt.”

She hits him again, softer this time. “Watch your language, young man.”

Carson yelps, rubbing the sore spot on his arm. I laugh, shaking my head at their antics.

“Do you want ice cream?” Cathy asks me.