I've Got Summer

T H R E E

C H R I S

I was beat—more tired than I expected. I'd removed the rotten floorboards and started filling in the foundation with cement, but it'd take days before it would dry completely. I contemplated whether or not I should do small layers, so it would could dry before I put more on, but I ended up just using up all the bags I got from the hardware store as quickly as possible.

The lawnmower was pretty good, too. I'd managed to get all the wild growth down to a pretty lawn at the front, so I'd moved my tent further away from all the gravel and my truck. I was already looking forward to sleeping on the soft ground instead. I started up the mower again, and moved it around to the back to get the rest of it over with while the last of the concrete hardened inside.

Once I was done, my body begged me for a break, but I'd already planned to empty the back of my truck—and the dump was closing soon. So I got in, started the engine, and took off towards town. No rest for the insane people who take on more than they can chew, apparently.

There was a lot to do with the house, but I felt like I was already making progress. I had no clue how I wanted it in the end, so I was pretty sure I'd just make something up while I was moving along. It didn't bother me. Not really. The worst that could happen was that I'd have to do something over, and that would probably just be therapeutic anyway. It was like a blank canvas, as my Major would've said, that I could do whatever I wanted with.

I wasn't sure I appreciated or resented that thought.

It bugged me that the wood from the floor was so bad I couldn't even reuse it for anything. I wouldn't use it for a dog house, even, that's how bad it was. So after I'd chucked it all into the recycling containers, I figured I could make some more progress while I was out and about, and set course for Bailey's.

As I entered the store, however, I already knew it was a big mistake. That girl was sitting behind the counter, her back against a shelf, and a book in her lap. Her blue hair was curled at the ends, falling barely below her shoulders, and with her short overalls, I could see a tattoo wrapping around the side of her thigh. Flowers. Of course there were flowers—and they were colored in different hues of blue, matching the rest of the woman perfectly. Fucking kill me already.

My head turned back towards the door, and as I raised my hand to open the door back up, her head lifted towards me; telling me she was aware that there were someone in there. Her eyes were still glued to the page she was reading. I really wanted to ask what book it was, and if she liked it. And I really wanted to go behind that counter, let my fingers trace the flowers on her thigh, feel the dip of her back with my hands and pull her against me. What the hell was wrong with me? She was just a pretty girl, and I'd dealt with pretty girls before.

The only difference, really, was that this one wasn't drunk. And, well, I actually wanted to take this one back to my tent, if she offered.

As she put a bookmark in and jumped up from the bench, she smiled widely and I wished I'd just left when I had the chance.

"Chris, is it?" Her voice was so chipper, it almost made me gag; more from surprise than anything. "I'm Summer. How can I help?"

Her big blue eyes studied me while I contemplated leaving and coming back later, but that would probably be considered rude—and I needed this place's business. So instead, I walked up to the counter and said, "I was gonna ask your dad if he could recommend a plumber and electrician, but I can come back later if he's not around."

"He's not, unfortunately." She bit her lip. That deliciously plump lip. Oh, fucking hell... "A plumber and electrician, huh? Don't know if we have anyone that's both in town, but I'll have a look."