Me and Mom Fall for Spencer Read Online Free

studying his face. He’s quite the looker,
and so what? He lucked out is all. It has nothing to
do with his character. He was bestowed a certain symmetry, pure luck, and why
should the world fall at his feet because of it? Cure cancer buddy, then we’ll
talk.
    So I turn back to him. He smiles. It’s a
cheery smile. He’s apparently a morning person. Bully for him.
    “I work from home…so….”
    “Your mom mentioned that. Sounds like a
good gig. Hey look, about last night….”
    My hand goes up again. Oh, he is a regrouper . Not the submissive soul I’d hoped. He just comes
back later…with that voice.   And my mother…that Judas? “No.”
    He pulls his chin in a little. His jaw, on display now, one small nick from the razor, but
flawless other than that. Mom is so going to try and get their parts
together. And Horny will be beating the drum.
    “I never meant to…I’m sorry to have made
you uncomfortable,” he says, like I haven’t told him no. Not good. He slides
down a couple of notches…not down on me…cause that’s not the picture I want
right now and I know all the dirty talk from Mom and H., but down in my
estimation is what I mean.
    “I like the privacy this strip of
vegetation affords…well I did like it until you butchered it,” I say, realizing
my voice is a little too loud, so I adjust and say more softly, “and I imagine
you have lots more to do than remove our hedge. You can’t have unpacked
already.”
    “That’s the thing, I don’t have water. That’s
ah…why I came over yesterday evening…to ask if I can use your hose…until….” He
scratches the back of his head. The hair…it’s a natural riot, and with the
strong face, features so…well the hair gets a pass. And his arm, the exposed
underside of it, he is interesting, not a complete meatball at all…I just
mean….
    My hand is up again. Word
traffic cop. I haven’t even told my hand to lift. I wonder now if I have
any control over myself socially…or if my body has taken over and I don’t even
have to be here….
    “Oh sorry,” he says, and the arm drops
and there’s…amusement? Am I a joke or something?
    “Don’t make changes,” I say. “It’s
enough you’re here. Just don’t…bring a brass band, you know?”
    Now he’s not smiling. “What does that
mean?”
    Oh. My kind of question except I don’t
like it leveled at me.
    “Just leave things alone. You want to
live here, fine. Just stay over there…you know?”
    “Wow,” he says low, staring at me, those
eyes, what is with those eyes?
    “I’m…” What am I? Sorry? Mean?
    “No, I get it. You’re right. It’s…I
didn’t mean to…maybe later. I’ll do yours later.”
    What? My mother?
    I just can’t stay here…look at those
eyes anymore.
    I flip-flop my way back into the house. Once
again I get inside and lean against the door. I’m huffing and puffing about
like when I’d hurried the day before, but I hadn’t hurried this time. What the
heck is it with this guy? He’s got me…I don’t know. I can’t believe this.
    I grab the colander. This is the time I
pick my tomatoes. I always pick my tomatoes first thing. I’m not going to not
pick them just because this guy is attacking my life…fence.
    I go back outside. My cat Muffins has
miraculously appeared. “You’re home,” I say, but my eyes are darting. Gundry
stands. He’d been squatting, fiddling with his saw, but he stands now.
    I look away and go back to my garden. I
hate this, being in his movie when…this is my place, my private place, not my
privates. Damn must everything now be an innuendo? What am I…Christine?
    “Hey Sarah, do you mind if I finish
this…on my side? I mean, well the noise….”
    “I do mind,” I say with feeling, like
one of the patriots might have addressed the first congress over the tyranny of
England. It’s that kind of feeling. Crazy.
    “Oh. Whoa.” He says this.
    “I mean…,” the hand…mine…its flapping
now. I tell it to stop, to