Over the Fence (10 page)

I tapped the top of the fence, holding out my hand. “Please.”

She sighed and I felt her hand touch mine. I stretched my arm as far as I could and grasped her fingers tight. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m really sorry.”

“I know. I’m not upset with you, but I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Fair enough. But Kourtney, you’re an amazing woman. An incredible cook. Whatever their problem is, it’s obviously them, not you. Clearly they’re assholes.”

Kourtney laughed without mirth. “Clearly.”

I squeezed her hand. “I mean it—I think you’re wonderful.” I hesitated, afraid of saying too much. “I’m glad you’re in my life. That you moved in next door.”

She didn’t respond, but her hand squeezed mine back. Finally she spoke. “Thank you, Nathan. You’re a good friend.” She withdrew her hand from mine. “I’m going in now. Goodnight.”

I stood, listening to her gather up her plate and walk inside. The too quiet click of the door shutting seemed to echo in the still of the evening. It sounded as defeated as she did.

I climbed off the chair and sat in it.

A good friend—she thought of me as a friend. I leaned my head back and stared at the sky as I thought about it. I realized, despite what I had said to Grant earlier, I wasn’t happy with only being her friend. Somehow, in a ridiculously short period of time, she had grown to be more than that in my mind. I shook my head at the absurdity. We had never even seen each other, never sat face-to-face to talk, yet somehow I had developed feelings for the woman with the soft voice, sweet giggle and giving nature, who lived next door. Who was so skittish she would probably panic if I suggested we get together in a setting that didn’t include the barrier of a fence. It was what I wanted, though—more than anything.

I wanted to get to know the woman behind the warm sound and thoughtful ways. I wanted her to know me. I groaned, thinking about what that meant. How would she feel about me if she knew about my past? I would have to tell her—it wasn’t something I could hide from her forever.

I was surprised to discover I wanted to talk to her and tell her about my life. Be honest and up front. Grant constantly told me being honest was the best thing. He often said I still hadn’t faced my past since I refused to talk about it with anyone, unless I was forced to, as with him. Maybe he was right: I needed to tell someone else.

Maybe I needed to tell Kourtney and see if she could accept me—past and all. Maybe if I shared with her, she would open up to me and we could both move on from our pasts.

Together.

My fingers drummed restlessly on my knee as I thought about it. Obviously, her past had left her with issues—the same way as mine. I felt my anger build at the faceless people who had done this to her.

From the little she had said, her family had left long-lasting scars. The kind people couldn’t see—the same way my family’s rejection had scarred me, causing me to refuse to get close to anyone.

Family should love and protect, not hurt one another. From what I gleaned she had been hurt—badly—maybe even worse than I had been. Bastards. They better hope we never meet. It sounded as if her hurt stemmed from many years, whereas mine had been abrupt, leaving me reeling at a time when I needed my family the most.

I sighed. I wasn’t sure I was prepared for this, or if she was either. I needed to be patient and understanding; be a friend to her, until she was comfortable with being . . . more. I could do that. For her, I could be patient.

I glanced behind me at the tall barrier that made her feel safe, yet kept me from her. At the moment it was a necessary evil.

I planned on
buying a ladder, though—soon.

I tossed and turned all night. The pain in Kourtney’s voice when she spoke about her family tormented me. I knew, without a doubt, whatever had happened in her past was what made her so skittish when it came to her present life. She always deflected the conversation away from personal subjects. She didn’t accept compliments well. It was almost as if she didn’t believe them. Any time I even hinted at removing the barrier of the fence between us, she panicked. She was hiding something and I wasn’t sure what it was, or exactly why. I only knew it had something to do with her past and the way she was treated by her father and brother.

I snorted, remembering the day she had moved in. I had been in the backyard wondering if anyone else in the complex was hiding a secret.

Guess I got my answer.

I gave up and got out of bed. I had a busy week ahead of me so getting into work early wasn’t a bad idea. After showering, I went into the kitchen, not bothering to put on any lights. Looking out the back door, as I ate some dry cereal from the box, I was surprised to see light coming from Kourtney’s backyard. I opened the door and went outside.

There were no sounds indicating she was there, but her outside light was on. I wondered if her lights worked the same as mine. If you turned on either the front or back door lights, both came on. It was touted as a safety feature with the house, like the built-in carbon monoxide and smoke detectors. I called her name but there was no response. She probably had left one of the lights on. I went inside, grabbed my phone and got in the car, entering via the garage as I always did. Pulling out of the driveway, I backed the car up a little and confirmed her front light was on. I also noticed diffused light from behind the living room curtains, and I frowned. She was up early, and I wished I was able to go knock on her door and make sure she was okay. I shook my head at that idea. As if a knock at the door at five in the morning wouldn’t startle her.

I drove through the subdivision, the houses mostly dark and the streets deserted. As I was stopped at the corner, movement caught my eye and I saw the same girl from yesterday, jogging toward me. Again, I couldn’t help but observe her pleasingly curvy figure and the flexing muscles in her legs as her sneaker-clad feet pounded on the pavement. Her hood was up and her head down as she ran past, her legs pumping out a steady rhythm, not even lifting her head to spare a glance at my idling car.

The first thought that entered my head as I watched her run by was: she shouldn’t be out alone. I looked in the rear view mirror and saw her turn the corner—and my frown intensified. There were only two streets in that direction, one of them being the one I lived on. Both streets were cul-de-sacs and sat on the fringe of dense woods. Surely to God she wasn’t going running in the woods? As yesterday, the same restless feeling overtook me when I thought about this unknown woman out alone this early. She seemed too vulnerable and diminutive to be on her own. I had no idea why the sight of a stranger running in the early dimness made me feel uneasy, but unable to stop myself, I turned the car around and drove back in the direction she had turned.

I drove slowly, stopping at the corner of the first street, scanning the road for her. I didn’t see her so I went back to my corner and viewed the quiet street. It was still deserted and the only light on was Kourtney’s. I turned the car and headed back out, relief flooding through me when I saw a light snap on in one of the houses on the first street. She must live there and had made it home safely. Obviously, I had missed her arriving home. I had no idea why this concerned me, so I drove on, unsure of my strange reaction. I didn’t understand why I was worried. I never worried about anyone else other than myself, and now in the short space of time I was worried about two women?

I sighed as I merged onto the main road, my speed picking up as I left the subdivision behind. I had other problems to deal with besides an unknown woman who liked to run in the dark. No matter how appealing they were to me.

When I was finally able to get back to my desk, I grabbed a coffee and sat down with a heavy sigh. Despite being swamped all morning, Kourtney had been on my mind. She kept creeping into my thoughts, no matter what task I was dealing with at the time. I needed to check on her, but I wasn’t sure how I would be received today. Regardless of what she had said last night I had upset her, and it bothered me. I liked it when I could make her happy.

I turned my chair to the window and studied the sky outside. The heavy clouds filling the atmosphere matched my mood well. I grinned as an idea hit me. Turning back to my desk, I clicked on Yahoo chat and was pleased to see WhyteElephant’s light on.

Gnat: Hey, Chefgirl—emergency—call 911.

WhyteElephant: What seems to the problem?

Gnat: It’s gonna rain.

WhyteElephant: Emergency indeed. I’ll alert the media for you.

I grinned at her wit.

WhyteElephant: Should I ask why rain constitutes as an emergency?

Gnat: If it’s raining, you can’t BBQ. If you can’t BBQ, I can’t eat. Hence emergency.

WhyteElephant: Oh, how silly of me. I never thought of your stomach when I saw it was raining.

Gnat: Hmmmph.

WhyteElephant: Nathan—do you EVER go in your kitchen?

Gnat: Of course. I’m not completely useless.

WhyteElephant: Have you ever noticed the large square silver item there?

Gnat: I know the name of the appliance you’re referring to.

WhyteElephant: Oh, excellent. And surprised you know the word appliance.

Gnat: Being rather sassy again, Missy. It’s called a refrigerator. It’s my friend. My hero actually.

WhyteElephant: Your refrigerator is your HERO? Do tell.

By now I was grinning widely. I
could
make her smile today.

Gnat: It’s magic. I put warm beer in it and a few hours later it comes out cold.

WhyteElephant: Oh. My.

Gnat: And even better, it protects some of my most prized things.

WhyteElephant: You keep imported beer in there, too?

I chuckled. I loved her sense of humor.

Gnat: No, smartass. The food you give me. It keeps it safe and fresh. My hero.

WhyteElephant: Wow. That is a little frightening, but I was referring to the other large square appliance—the one that is waist high.

Gnat: Sniffing at you haughtily—I know that, too. It’s called the stove. I am aware.

WhyteElephant: Impressed again. But do you know what it does?

Gnat: Yes!!! It also is multi-functional. It acts as extra counter space to lay out the pizza and wings on Football Sunday, and hides the empty containers and paper plates until garbage day. Duh.

I sat back, smiling, waiting for her reply.

WhyteElephant: OMG—I somehow never thought to use it for that. How silly of me. I’ve only ever used it for cooking INDOORS when it’s raining or snowing OUTSIDE. My bad.

Gnat: Happy to have taught you something new. You should always keep your mind open to new ideas, you know.

WhyteElephant: You are seriously deranged.

I threw back my head, laughing. I knew without a doubt, she was laughing, too. Mission accomplished.

WhyteElephant: Don’t worry about dinner—I got it covered. I promise you won’t go hungry. Still holding onto the leftovers for bribes?

Gnat: I brought some for lunch. I did a thorough inventory last night. I think I’m good until Thursday. No cafeteria crap for me. But, I will heat it up, then take it down and sit with my co-workers as I eat it and watch them weep when they smell the awesomeness my containers hold.

WhyteElephant: Please refer to the seriously deranged comment above.

Gnat: Chefgirl?

WhyteElephant: Yes, Tomcat?

Gnat: I think you’re the best hero of them all.

WhyteElephant: You’re a nut!

I hesitated then went for broke.

Gnat: Nuts for you, Chefgirl. ;)

WhyteElephant: I have to go. You shouldn’t be drinking on the job, Nat. I doubt the computers you work on today will work tomorrow. Just saying.

I rolled my eyes. As usual, she deflected.

WhyteElephant: Meet you at the fence at 7. I’ll have your dinner.

Gnat: Have a good day, Kourtney. You just made mine.

Her light went out.

I stared at the screen. There was so much I found myself wanting to say to her, but I knew she wasn’t ready to hear it. Somehow, I knew I needed to let her move this . . . relationship—or whatever it was—at her own pace.

A knock startled me and I looked up. “Hey, Shannon,” I greeted and smiled at one of my co-workers.