Every Yesterday (Boot Creek) (12 page)

He stepped into the room. “True. I was thinking we’d just paint that one wall. I’m going to put the bed right here.” He looked like an airline attendant showing passengers the lighted exits as he motioned where the bed would go. “A dresser here.”

Megan agreed. The wall he’d pointed to would be the focal point of the room. “Great. Did you have something in mind? I was thinking maybe a gas pump like the one in my house, and then we could do a sign with the prices that also includes a section with chalkboard paint. He could draw there if he wanted to.”

“That’s a cool idea.”

“I brought some chalkboard paint with me.” She pulled her hands up on her hips, imagining what it would look like.

“Maybe a garage-bay door with ‘Billy’s Garage’ written over top?”

“That would be cool. What color palette are we working with besides the yellow on the walls?”

“I’ll show you.”

She hesitated a moment, watching him in profile. He was handsome, and although her first impression had been of all swagger, there was a fun boyish charm about him too. An old feeling, one she’d kept under control, prickled at her senses. Suddenly noticing every angle, smell, and move that he made. She let him guide her out of the room and to the garage. He blocked the doorway. Then pushed the door open and stepped aside, creating a grand gesture. “What do you think?”

The truck bed took up the better part of the garage. With the tailgate as the footboard and the cab as the headboard, it was no mistaking this was going to be the bed of any boy’s dreams. And this was way more safe to concentrate on than the way Noah smelled or looked in the sunlight right now. “I think he is going to be thrilled. That is my favorite style Chevy pickup. And the color. I love it. Was that a stock color?”

“
Tropical Turquoise.
”

“It’s great. I bet it was bright as heck back in the day. The worn look just makes it that much cooler. This is the best bed ever. It’s going to be like sleeping in the bed of a truck.”

“I know. I’m pretty happy with how it’s turning out. Look I used the taillights as decoration on the chunky wooden frame.”

“Wouldn’t that be cool if they worked?”

“Already thought of that. I rigged up a switch right here by the rail. He can use them like a night light if he wants to.”

“You’ve thought of everything.” And she wondered what kind of attention to detail he would put into a night out together. Not that she didn’t appreciate spontaneity, but she’d always been a sucker for the tiny details too.

Looking at the blank canvas, she wished Jackson had told her about the project himself. She could have been working on this a week ago. “I’m going to sketch something out. This is going to be great. It’s going to be bright and playful.”

“Do you need my help?”

“No,” she said. “Not really.”

“If I can be helpful, I’d be happy to help. Especially where you might have big areas I can’t screw up.”

“Thanks, we can make quick work of it that way. Let’s get started.” Megan snapped her fingers, all that Noah-talk from Mom and then Flynn’s comments had her mind thinking things it really had no right to be thinking. “I meant to bring a paint tarp. Do you know if Jackson has one around?”

“That we’ve got. There’s one still folded up in the closet that we used when the guys painted yesterday.”

“Perfect. Then I’m going to go sketch something out real quick.”

“I’ll get us something to drink. Water, soda, beer?”

“If you’ve got a cold beer, that’ll be perfect.”

“My kind of gal.”

The quick comment landed on her like a butterfly. Unexpected and soft, its wings slightly tickling her. Nice. Megan went back to Billy’s room and sat on the floor. The sketch came easy. She knew exactly what she wanted to paint. The ideas flowed like they hadn’t in so long.

Noah walked in with two beers and stood looking over her shoulder. “I like it. This is going to make the room.”

“I’m pretty sure that bed is going to make the room, but this will be pretty cool. I’m going to need a few pints of paint, though. Think you could run to the store and get them while I sketch things out and get started?”

“Sure. Give me a list.”

“I just need a few basics. I can mix to get pretty much the colors we need, but can you get him to mix a turquoise about four shades lighter than what you got for the dresser, to use for the sky? That should anchor the color scheme of the room and tie things together.”

“I’m your beck-and-call boy. Just tell me what to do.”

That would be a first. Entirely different from Kevin, who used to be the one making all the plans. Some that she’d never known were even in progress. “Oh, you know what. I had another idea. Do you have a ladder?”

“Yeah. I’ll grab it. What else?”

She scribbled what she needed on a piece of paper and handed it to him. “You can get all of it at the hardware store.”

“The hardware store? Aw, man. Maybe it’s the old man’s day off.”

“Mr. Owen? He never takes a day off.” She could see the discouragement all over his face, and boy did she sympathize. Not that she was about to admit it.

He looked down at the list. “Of course, he doesn’t. I’ll be back . . . eventually . . .” He turned and then stopped in the doorway. “What am I thinking? I don’t have a car.”

“Take mine. Keys are in it.”

He left and then came back with the ladder. “Here you go. See you shortly. Well, in a while.”

She sat there until she heard him leave. Then she raced over to the ladder with a small jar of glow-in-the-dark paint and a skinny paintbrush. She climbed the ladder and straddled the top. Carefully, she painted tiny stars in the shape of the Big Dipper, and then scooted the ladder and did the Scorpio constellation and Leo. Those were the only ones she knew by heart. She reached out to the sides dotting a few random stars.”

The paint was colorless, just little wet spots. She scooched the ladder and filled in a couple empty areas with scatters of various-sized stars. It might require a little fill-in work once they saw them in the dark. She hoped it worked.

She hopped down from the ladder, then fished around in her box of supplies for her chalk to start marking out the mural in broad soft strokes.

After a few minutes, she stood back, taking it in.

If she’d ever had a son, she’d have done something just like this for him. She marked a few spots on the drawing she’d done on the sketch pad for the areas that Noah could start filling in, like the sky and the concrete block of the garage. She could come back in, and contour and shade. It would save time.

By the time she heard Noah pull back up to the house in her car, she had the life-sized gas pump well under way. The pop of fire engine red was going to draw the eye right in against the yellow and dingy turquoise of the bed. She let her brush glide against the smooth surface. She never tired of watching the colors come to life beneath her strokes.

“Whoa!”

Megan turned to see Noah’s mouth hanging open.

“That looks three dimensional,” he said stepping into the room. “Damn, you
are
good. Just how long have I been gone?” He turned his wrist, looking at his watch.

“Thank you.” It wasn’t that difficult of a thing to paint, and she knew exactly what one looked like since she had one in her house. It’d be different if it had been something she’d never seen before. But it did feel good to be creating. It had been a while.

“Got everything on the list.” He handed the large paper sack with the hardware store logo on it to her.

“Great. Can you bring me a big glass of water?” She dug through the bag and laid everything out on the tarp.

“Sure thing. Ice?”

“No. A plastic cup of tap water. For the paint.” She lifted her almost-empty beer. “I’ll stick with the beer to drink. I need to water down the paint.”

“Gotcha.”

She took a small clear plastic bucket from her box and mixed in some of the lighter blue paint.

He came back with a large plastic cup of water and two beers.

She accepted the cold beer and took a sip, then took the cup of water and tipped a small splash into the paint bucket and stirred it until she got the consistency she wanted. “This will be perfect.” She dipped the brush into the paint and then made a few long sweeping motions across the wall. The motion came with a natural ease. A comfortable rhythm.

Megan dipped a nearly dry brush into the cup of water and then softened the lines she’d just painted. Then, she stepped back and turned to Noah. “Okay, you paint everything above those blue lines with this.” She extended the cup of watered-down paint his way.

“You make it sound so easy.”

“It is.” He looked doubtful. “You can’t do anything I can’t fix. Trust me, if I was worried I wouldn’t let you help. Go to it.”

He sucked in a breath and picked up a brush. “Well, one thing I can promise. I’ll be faster than Mr. Owen.”

“That’s not really going to be helpful. Step it up, Buttercup.”

“Buttercup? Who you calling Buttercup?”

“You.” She tried to concentrate on her work but couldn’t help glancing his way playfully. “Chop. Chop. We’ve got to get this done quickly.”

The edge of his smile quirked upward. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re a little bossy?”

Anyone? That was an understatement. She came by being bossy honestly. And was dang proud of it. “Hey, you asked for my help.”

“I’m not complaining.”

“Really? Sounds kind of like bellyaching to me.” And during all of that playful chatter, the mural was coming together, just like she’d never stopped painting. A little scary, but more comfortable than not.

“You might not play well with others,” he said under his breath.

She smiled, enjoying the banter. “Might be why I work alone.” Although he was easy to be around.

He used a large brush to start filling in the blue, and she got to work on the garage and the sign over it.

Using fat rounded block letters, the words
Billy’s Garage
now graced a perfect red oval in glossy white.

Megan put Noah to work on the light gray of the cinder-block garage, while she painted the bright caution-yellow curbing around the mock median near the gas pump.

Something plopped against her ball cap.

He did not just drip paint on my head, did he?
She slowly looked up at the very moment he sloshed a little too much paint on his brush—again—and dripped paint right on her nose.

“Hey!” She swept the paint with her hand, the slick goop smearing under her fingers across her face. “Careful there, buddy.”

He looked down and started laughing. “Sorry.” He raised his paint cup up under the brush.

“It’s not funny.”

Nodding and grinning, he didn’t look too sorry. “It kind of is.”

She took her brush and dipped it back in her paint and dragged a bright yellow line right down his leg.

“I don’t think you know what you started. Mine was an accident.”

She stood up. Taking a ready stance. “What?” She rubbed her face on her sleeve.

He laughed, pointing at her cheek.

“Seriously? There’s
still
paint on my face. You deserved that.”

He thrust his brush forward and made a dot on her arm.

She retaliated with a slash of paint across his cheek, but he already had her looking like she had a case of the gray measles.

“Stop!” She twisted and zigzagged out of his way. “Okay. I’m sorry I started that.”

“At least you admit it.”

“Well, really you started it, but I didn’t let it go. But we better stop before we ruin the mural we just spent hours on.”

“You really giving in? Because you look like you’re ready to strike.”

She giggled. “
Yes.
” She let out a breath and cleaned out her brush.

Noah plopped down on the floor, letting out a huff. “That was fun.”

She used a paper towel to wipe as much paint off of herself as she could. “I think I need another beer,” she said. “And less help.”

“Aww, are you firing me?”

“No. You’re a good helper, I guess.”

He pulled his shirt off and found a dry spot, reached out, and smudged the paint from her cheek and her arm. “It really was an accident. The first time.”

His stomach was perfect. So perfect that she had the urge to stare, take in every ripple and the texture of the skin so she could later recreate it. But he was so close, stroking her cheek . . . softly. She took in a deep breath and swatted at his hand. “You don’t have to do that. You’re going to ruin your shirt.” Only it wasn’t his shirt she was worried about. She was having a little too much fun with this guy. She didn’t want to give him the wrong idea.

“I don’t care. I have another one. We buy them by the case at the shop.” He dabbed at a spot of paint on the back of her leg.

His touch was strong yet gentle.

Wanting to tell him to stop, she struggled with herself because truthfully, she was enjoying his touch. But before she could win the battle of her own mind, he stopped and tossed the shirt across the room.

“Back to work,” he said.

“Now who is the bossy one?” she teased. Although having him boss her around wouldn’t be the worst job she’d ever had. She went to work, glancing back to take another look at his fit physique.