“I will lie point-blank,” he answered. “And it won’t be the first time. Now, are you going to keep asking me questions, or are we going to start searching? Hey!” he said as she slapped his forehead.
“Mosquito,” she said, but her eyes were laughing. “Come on, let’s go.”
He made an attempt to get up, but there was a pain in his leg. Groaning, he sat back down.
“Are you injured?” she asked, concerned.
“It’s a wonder I’m not dead. One of my idiot nephews helped a girl get a cat out of a tree today.”
“And?” Bailey asked.
Matt looked up at her. “He used a ladder to do it.”
“And?” she asked impatiently.
“It was my ladder. I was on the roof of the garage—and the cat was in a tree three blocks away.”
“You aren’t telling me that one of your nephews knew you were on the roof, but he took your ladder and left you stranded, are you?”
“He said he thought I was in my truck, but I think he was getting me back about the water.”
When Matt made a second failed attempt to get up, Bailey reached out her hand. He took it, then made a great show of standing up.
“You might have to help me walk,” he said.
“Here, I have a hoe, you can lean on that,” she said quickly.
“Spoilsport,” he said, laughing and limping as he walked behind her toward the house.
Bailey had her hands full of gardening tools. Turning around, she began to walk backward. “What did you do with the water?”
“Took it away from them,” he said as he put his hand on his lower back and hobbled.
“You’re not going to tell me this story unless I beg, are you?”
“Begging . . . Hmm, not a bad idea.”
“You know what I found that had been left in this house?” she asked. “A recipe box.”
“Yeah?” Matt asked, interested but wishing she’d wanted to hear his story.
“Yes,” Bailey said. “It was full of recipes I’d like to try, things like chicken-fried steak, fried chicken coated with cornflakes, spaghetti sauce made out of Campbell’s tomato soup, and something called ‘surprise meat loaf.’ ”
The last item made the hairs on the back of Matt’s neck stand straight up. “You win!” he said quickly. “I took my nephews’ drinking water away from them because they were spilling it all down the front of themselves.” He could see that she didn’t understand—and he hadn’t meant for her to understand. They had reached the house, and she had her hand on the door.
“Spilled their drinks?” she asked, puzzled. “You mean, like a child?”
“Here, let me demonstrate,” he said as he reached over her head to open the door. “Wait right here and try to remember how you felt when you were sixteen or seventeen.” He went into the house, got the tallest water glass he could find, then filled it at the sink. He knew that what he was about to do was shameless, but, well, all’s fair, etc. He unbuttoned his shirt, took it off, and dropped it on the corner of the kitchen counter. On one hand, he hated the backbreaking labor of construction, but on the other hand, what climbing ladders and lifting concrete blocks had done to his body was something he did like. He flipped the switch that turned on the light over the back door, then stepped outside.
He pretended he didn’t see her eyes widen at the sight of his bare chest as he raised the glass to his lips. “The girls were across the street, and my nephews were bare-chested and drinking. Like this,” he said, then he let the cool water dribble down his chest, all while running his free hand over his chest slowly. “See?” he said when the water was gone. “That’s what I had to put up with all day today.”
“I see,” she said in a way that made him feel fool
ish. “You know,” she said, “I was up late last night, so I think I’ll pass on your offer of helping to set up the computer. In fact—” She gave a jaw-cracking yawn. “Oh, sorry. In fact, I think I’ll turn in right now.”
With that, she went inside the house, and Matt was left outside, shirtless, with the front of his pants wet and at least eight mosquitoes stabbing him between the shoulder blades. He wasn’t quite sure what he’d done wrong, but it was something.
With a sigh, he went into the house, turned off the porch light, then made sure all the doors were locked. It was too early to go to bed, so he picked up his shirt and buttoned it as he went upstairs to the attic. With any luck, he could get a search service to find out who had bought the house from the widow of the man who’d hanged himself. Maybe if he found out that for her, it would get him back into her good graces.