Total pages in book: 198
Estimated words: 186242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 931(@200wpm)___ 745(@250wpm)___ 621(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 186242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 931(@200wpm)___ 745(@250wpm)___ 621(@300wpm)
That sounded simple enough.
“Get up there and do it.”
I could do this.
I smiled and finished climbing up. He carefully handed over the drill and screws before giving me a tube I didn’t recognize. Glue? My knees started shaking, and I tried my best to ignore them . . . and the way the ladder seemed to move a little too even though he was holding it.
“Careful. You got it . . .” he said as I blew out a breath. “You’re doing great.”
“I’m doing great,” I repeated, wiping my hand on my jeans when I realized it was sweaty before picking the drill back up.
“Set it down. See that tube I handed you? It’s open. Put a drop on the screws, just to get them to really stick,” he instructed from below.
“Got it.” I did what he said, then called down, “If I drop it, run, okay?”
“Don’t worry about me, angel. Time for the drill.”
“Aurora,” I corrected him, blowing out a shaky breath. That wasn’t the first time he’d called me the wrong name, I was pretty certain.
“Okay, you only need one screw. It doesn’t have to be perfect,” he instructed, before handing out more steps that I followed with slippery hands. “You’re doing great.”
“I’m doing great,” I repeated after I’d double-checked that the screw was in well and he’d handed up the bat house. My arms were shaking. Even my neck was tense. But I was doing it.
“Here,” he said, holding up a bottle as high as possible. I recognized it as the attractant that Clara had sent me a screenshot of when she’d realized hers was expired.
Aiming my face away, I sprayed it. “Anything else?”
“No, now pass me the drill and glue and get down.”
I peeked down. “Please?” I joked.
And his stony, serious face was back.
Much better.
I did what he asked, knees still shaking, and started to climb down. “I’m not that—oh shit.” My toes missed a step, but I caught myself. “I’m fine, I meant to do that.” I peeked down at him again.
Yeah, his hard face was still there. “I bet you did,” he muttered, amusing me way more than he probably meant to.
I finished climbing down the steps and instantly handed over the extra screws. “Thank you for helping me. And doing the foam stuff. And being so patient.”
His full lips pressed together as he stood there, watching me again, his gaze moving over my face.
Mr. Rhodes cleared his throat, and all the hints of playfulness I’d seen glimpses of before disappeared. “I did it for me.” His serious voice was back even as his gaze flicked to a spot behind me. “Don’t want you screaming at the top of your lungs in the middle of the night, waking me up.”
My smile faltered before I caught it, and I reminded myself that it wasn’t like I wasn’t aware he didn’t really like me. All this was just . . . him being a landlord and a decent guy deep down. I’d asked him to show me what to do, and he had. That was it.
But it still hurt even though I knew it was stupid. It took everything in me to keep my face neutral. “Thanks anyway,” I told him, hearing how funny I sounded, but taking a step back. “I don’t want to take up more of your time, but thanks again.”
Mr. Rhodes’s lips parted right as I half-assed waved.
“Bye, Mr. Rhodes.”
I headed back into the house before he got anything else out, holding on to my triumphs for the day. That was what I wanted to linger over. Not over his wishy-washy moods.
I’d picked up a fucking eagle and set up my own bat house all by myself. I’d learned how to use a drill. It was a win across the board. And that was something. Something big and beautiful.
Next thing I knew, I was going to be catching bats bare-handed. Okay, that was never actually going to happen, but right then, I felt like I could do anything.
Except get my neighbor to like me, but that was okay.
It really was.
Chapter Fourteen
I woke up to knocking.
Loud, frantic knocking.
“Ora!” an extremely familiar voice called out.
I blinked and sat up. “Amos?” I yelled back, picking up my phone from where I’d left it lying on the floor, plugged in. The screen said it was seven in the morning.
On my day off. Sunday.
What the hell was Am doing awake this early too? He’d literally told me at least three times that he usually stayed up all night playing video games and wouldn’t wake up until after one unless his dad was home. It had made me laugh.
Throwing my legs over the side of the bed, I called out again, “Amos? You okay?”
He replied then as I grabbed a hoodie from where I’d left it draped over one of the table’s chairs and slipped it on. Despite how warm it got during the day, some nights still got cool. “Oraaaa! Yes! Come here!”