When the tinkle of the ice cream truck sounded in the distance, Jay’s head snapped around to see. He made a noise, and Aarica nodded to him. “I think you can have a treat this afternoon, since you ate your lunch today.”
The truck rolled up to the park and stopped. Patriot rolled the ball toward her. “I’ll get it. C’mon, Jay. Show me what kind of ice cream you want.”
They walked up to the curb where the truck sat with a menu of cool treats spanning the side. Jay pointed at one, and Patriot said, “Three please.”
After he paid and they got their snack, Aarica led the way to one of the picnic tables. She sat next to her ward and Patriot took the seat across from her so he could look at her.
She helped Jay open his ice cream and then offered a soft smile to Patriot. “Thank you. You didn’t need to treat us.”
“My pleasure.” He watched her tongue slip out and work over the rainbow-colored ice cream. The pull on his groin almost raised a groan in his throat. “Do you come to the park often?” he asked to keep his thoughts off splaying her out on this table and showing her another sort of treat.
“Once in a while depending on Jay’s mood. He likes to play video games, and I prefer to get him outside in the fresh air.” Her big eyes penetrated him with a deep look. “Are you on the job?”
“Just came from a meeting about one. I saw you guys playing.”
Her soft smile this time revealed her white teeth—the wide smile he’d been burning for ever since meeting her. “I’m glad you stopped, Patriot.”
His chest tightened. “Me too.”
“We keep bumping into each other.”
“That seems to be a thing with you.” His tone came out gruff as he licked his rainbow ice cream.
She tipped her head, watching him. “Maybe we’re meant to be friends.”
Friends. Fuck, he never wanted to bend one of his friends over a picnic table before, but he nodded anyway. “Friends,” he repeated.
Jay clapped his hands, and ice cream flew, landing on Aarica’s arm. They all started laughing.
Aarica walked up the sidewalk and knocked on the red front door. If life taught her anything since striking out on her own, it was that she had zero time for shyness. Finding jobs to keep the money rolling in meant being bold enough to ask.
She waited on the stoop, hearing bumps and footsteps inside. When the door opened and the sweet little old man with drooping shoulders and a comb-over hairstyle faced her, she gave him a genuine smile.
“Hi, I saw your flyer up at the supermarket for a lawn mower.” She’d also seen him struggle to mow twice now from the Posts’ window.
He looked her over. “I expected a boy.”
“Girls can mow lawns too.” She softened her retort with the million-watt smile her cousins claimed would charm the Devil.
The man grunted. “I suppose that’s true enough. And my own daughter would have said the same thing. You could have called.”
“I know, but I think it’s more personal to meet face-to-face.” She glanced around at the high grass. “Seems as if you still need a worker around here.”
“I do. And since you’re the first person to come by, the job’s yours. I pay fifty dollars a week.”
Decent money. She wouldn’t complain when it meant paying her utility bills, filling up her tank or buying some food.
She nodded. “I’ll take it, and thank you. And you have a mower.”
“I do, out in the shed. If you go around the side, I’ll meet you there and unlock the door for you.”
She waited until he closed the door to shoot around the house, aware of some weeding that needed done as well. After she finished mowing, if she had time before her shift at the Painted Pig, she’d do that for the gentleman.
The back yard was just as unkempt as the front and definitely in need of a good cutting. The older man stood in front of the shed, wiggling a key into an old padlock holding the door closed. When he pulled the door open, he revealed the push mower that appeared to be in use since the eighties. She hoped it started easy. If not, her cousins had taught her a few tricks.
The man stepped aside, and she pulled the mower down a small ramp leading to the grass. He cocked a bushy brow at her. “You sure you can handle this?”
She smiled. “I grew up on a farm. I’ll be fine.”
Sweeping a hand toward the mower, he said, “It’s all yours. Knock when you’re finished and I’ll pay you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Kelley.”
“I never caught your name, young lady.”
“Aarica Byrne.”
He smiled for the first time. “Good luck getting through this high grass, Aarica.” He went inside, and she set to work starting the mower. It took a few tries, and the engine chugged a bit. In no time, she set off across the back yard, cutting paths and thinking she might need to rake up the clippings, bag it and put it at the curb for the older gentleman. But she wasn’t against going above and beyond the call of duty, especially for someone who clearly needed help.
When she got to the front yard, she was sweating. After grabbing a bottle of water from her car and drinking most of it, she started on the front.
A shrill whistle caught her attention. She looked up in search of the sound and spotted three guys sitting in a car—leaning out their windows more like—across the street. They watched her make another pass as though she was a sideshow.
She continued to ignore their whistles and catcalls, turning another corner to cross the yard for a fourth time. Glancing up, she saw the car door whip open and one of the guys fly across the neighboring yard. Stopping dead, she looked on with wide eyes.
What the…?
Another door opened, and then she spotted someone dragging the second man out by the seat of his pants as he obviously struggled to escape. A “someone” she’d recognize no matter if he was shirtless or wearing black leather and an MC patch.
A gasp flew from her lips as the second guy who’d been gawking at her a minute ago hit the turf. Patriot reached in for the third, and he leaped out the door and took off in a sprint down the street.
Without so much as a glance in her direction, Patriot turned and walked away. She scoured the parked cars and not far off spotted his construction truck.
Oh. My. God. What was that?
He’d totally put the smack-down on those young guys watching her mow the grass. She would march after him and ask what he was thinking, but something told her he wouldn’t tell her anyway. Also, if he was going to act as a bodyguard protector, he could have at least stopped to talk.
After she finished the front lawn, she pushed the mower around the side. She stopped to yank some weeds and vowed to come earlier next week to do more work in the flowerbeds. She put away the mower, locked the shed again and went to the door for her first payday.
Mr. Kelley had a nod of approval for her, and she’d grown up around enough males to understand that as the best praise she could receive.
At home, she stripped off her sweaty cutoff shorts, tank top and the bikini top she’d worn beneath the tank to work in the hot sun. Even a cold shower couldn’t cool off the flames of awareness inside her when it came to Patriot, though.
Of course, his mood changes were giving her mental whiplash. Next time she saw him, he might ignore her or act as though they were close friends. She hadn’t yet figured him out, but she wanted to—bad.