I nod my head as she carries on about a couple more things.
This place is a lot cooler than I expected it to be. The space is in great shape and looks well taken care of. They don’t have very many tables, but it works because they are more of an “enjoy the beer” place, not an “enjoy the food” place. The walls are blue, but you can hardly tell that with all the banners and neon signs. I’m actually excited that this is where I will hang out. It has a welcoming feel, and it’s easy to see why business is good.
Sara’s still talking when I glance at her. She moves around at ease with a smile. She doesn’t notice me while she talks, so I survey the rest of the room.
It’s obvious she and I are the only ones here now. Good. I need to ask her if she needs anything else from me because I have an appointment with the Realtor to pick up the keys for the house I’m leasing. It takes me a minute to realize Sara isn’t talking anymore. She’s watching me when it clicks.
“What’s with the smile?” I ask. She instantly blushes and her posture straightens.
“What smile?”
“The one on your face that screams, ‘I’m up to something.’ You wore that smile a lot when we were kids. I know it better than you think.”
“I’m not up to anything, Ethan,” she says with a straight face then walks behind the bar. Slowly that sneaky smile reappears, and I can tell she’s trying to hide it. For whatever reason, she doesn’t want to tell me and that’s fine. I’m not here to build a relationship. Not with her anyway.
“Thanks again for hiring me.”
“Oh yeah, no problem. It was you or Kelsey, and, well…” She looks up again, still smiling. “She needs a little help with the whole staying-on-schedule thing. I think hiring someone else to be her manager might motivate her to take that next step.”
Ahhh. I’m catching on now. I don’t think having a different manager is going to motivate her. It’s who her new manager is that will motive her. Women—they’re not as sneaky as they think they are. But heck, I’ll play along. If it means more time with Kelsey, I’ll do whatever my cousin wants me to.
Whoa.
Where did that come from? More time with Kelsey is the last thing I need.
“Come back tomorrow at three. You can follow one of the bartenders around for a bit to get the flow of things,” Sara says before a tall man and a woman with firecracker-red hair wearing black shirts with the bar’s logo on them approach from a back room. The guy unlocks the front door and a gray-haired couple walk in. The elderly love arriving to places right at opening. I assume these two will be the only customers for at least another hour.
I nod on my way out, but Sara greets the old couple. She shares a laugh with them and even gives them each a polite hug. She looks happy here, and for a minute I feel guilty. I’m going to be the bad guy and help take it from her.
Right before I step through the exit, I hear her call my name. I turn to see her coming toward me with a smile. She wraps her arms around me, giving me a tight hug then steps away.
Yep, I’m the bad guy already.
Chapter Two
Kelsey
For the next five months, my parents will be touring France, Italy, and Germany. They’ve left me in charge of everything they own, and this is night one. I’ve already managed to lock myself out. Go me.
“You’re not seriously going to break in, are you?” Sara asks through the phone.
“What choice do I have, Sara? All my stuff is in their house, and my dad was very clear on his rules. Make sure the sprinkler system comes on each morning till the end of August, dust everything, cleaning includes bathrooms, and don’t drive the cars. That’s just the small list. For all I know, he could have a camera set up to make sure I do as he instructed.”
Without a key, breaking in is the only way to go. He didn’t say don’t break anything or break into anything, but those are probably basic rules. Still, he never actually said it.
“This sucks. I’m gone in less than four weeks, and you’re not even going to be staying in our apartment until I leave. You could come home and crash here for just one more night. Then we can call the locksmith in the morning.”
I shake my head, refusing her offer even though she can’t see me. Sara’s suggestion is good, but it’s not going to work. Not right now. Not when my computer is inside this house and my fingers are itching to get some writing in before I go to bed.
I’m sitting alone in my car in my parents’ driveway. It’s in a new neighborhood just east of town, and they picked a fully beige house. I call it “The Palace of Beige.” Everything is that boring ass color—the house, the trim, the doors. Everything. It has a three-floor layout with five bedrooms, each with their own bath; a movie room; and a four-car garage. They have two kids who no longer live at home and four cars. What a waste of money.
“That defeats the whole purpose of housesitting, Sara.” I move my cellphone to my left ear and hold it in place with my shoulder as I turn off my car. The wind is intense tonight, and my car moves in a wave like motion with each gust. Thankfully, it stopped raining so I can see a little better, but it’s almost midnight and everything is pitch black. Add the fact I forgot to leave the front porch light on and the fact the subdivision has a lot of houses still in the building phase and it makes this whole situation creepy. I’ve watched too many movies of what can go wrong in a construction zone.
“Okay, so what are you going to do? Throw a rock through the window, crawl inside, and then claim someone broke in while you were watching their house? I guarantee they won’t give you the money they offered. In fact, I bet they would make you replace it with your own cash. You should totally rethink whatever plan you have devised in your head.”
Lose out on five grand for five months of housesitting? Easiest money ever. I need it so I can start a career in self-publishing. I could buy a new window and still come out ahead.
“It’s my only option. I’ll call you when I’m inside.”
Sara’s voice raises a few pitches, but I end the call before I can hear what she says. I know she’s right that I should just wait till tomorrow, but writing is way more important than whatever window I’m about to bust.
I open my car door only to have it blown shut by the strong August wind the moment my left leg is out. Ouch! Only this stupid Wyoming wind would stick around for every day of the year. I push the door off my leg and jump out of the car in a hurry to avoid the same mistake. The wind again slams the door shut at the same time I firmly plant my feet into the ground to keep from blowing away. My long, brown hair is blowing in all directions and it’s a battle between Mother Nature and my hand to keep it away from my eyes long enough to walk to the house.
Each step is like pulling a semi-truck behind me as I walk against the wind. I swear it feels like I’m not even moving. Thank goodness I went with blue jeans and a black hoodie tonight. Trying to keep a dress or skirt down in this mess would be pointless.
I finally make it to the front porch, pulling my smartphone from my back pocket to turn on the flashlight. I shine the light around the windows and over the deck in search of a hide-a-key. When I come up short, I catch sight of a curtain blowing freely inside the house. Yes! There must be a window open. I hold the flashlight against the window to pinpoint my next destination. Perfect, I should be able to climb through from the back porch.
I leap off the front steps, not making much distance when the wind pushes me backward. The ball of my foot catches the last step and I fall. I hit the steps just perfectly to pinch the skin on the back of my thigh, and a small scream passes my lips as I roll on the ground, grabbing the tender area and trying not to cry.