The Girl in the Window Read Online Free Page B

set just inside the shed. He took one of the paint stirrers to scrape out the old grass.
    That took a little time. It was hot, filthy work on a very warm day.
    Somehow, he found he didn’t mind much as he took occasional glimpses at the girl.
    “You should consider getting a new mower,” Josh said.
    Beth looked at him. “Why? This one still works.”
    She heard the echo of her father’s words in her own head and caught her breath sharply.
    Oblivious, her neighbor continued, “The new ones are easier to start and maintain.”
    “I’ll think about it,” she said, uncertainly.
    Sweat had dampened his hair and t-shirt so they clung to him, to the long muscles of his back.
    To cover her sudden discomfort Beth went inside and came out with two glasses.
    “Here,” she said, softly, “it’s the least I can do.”
    Josh looked at his grease and grass-covered hands, not wanting to soil the clean glass.
    She smiled unexpectedly, and said, amused, “Glasses can be washed. Hands, too.”
    That smile on her usually too-solemn face caught him off-guard, the expression clearly more natural to her than the caution.
    He grinned back. “So they do. Thanks.”
    Taking a sip, he was startled. “Hey, that’s good.”
    His surprise drew a real laugh out of her.
    “That’s because it’s real,” she said, with another smile. “I squeeze the lemons myself and use honey instead of sugar. It needs stirred more than the powdered stuff, but it does taste better.”
    It did, more refreshing, and not as sugary as store-bought.
    “Okay, let’s fire her up and see if she works,” he said.
    A quick pull or two on the rope and the old mower started right up. One thing was certain, the old man had taken good care of his equipment.
    “That’ll do her,” he said. “Just let her run a little bit.”
    “All right. Come on in and wash up,” Beth said, the offer surprising even herself.
    Without flinching, Beth held the door for him so he could enter the kitchen without getting grease and grass on the knob.
    “Don’t mind if I do,” he said, shutting down the mower.
    He had grass all over his arms and a swath on his forehead where he’d accidentally wiped it clearing the sweat.
    The room was redolent with the scent of fresh paint and the walls glowed with new color.
    “Looks good,” Josh said, as she reached to turn on the water and squirt some soap into his hands.
    He was happy to see another of her rare smiles at the compliment.
    Pleased, Beth looked around. “Thank you.”
    Hands clean, he held one out to her and said, “Josh Randall.”
    For a moment, she hesitated, and then she took the offered hand. “Elizabeth Winters. I owe you, Mr. Randall.”
    “No, it’s just what neighbors do for each other, and it’s Josh.”
    “Josh,” she said, trying it out. “All right, then it’s Beth, call me Liz or Bethie and I’ll shoot you.”
    The small joke surprised her. It was a day of surprises.
    He grinned. “I’ll take that under advisement.”
    “I can make you a sandwich instead,” she said, emboldened.
    With a nod, Josh said, “I’ll take you up on that.”
    Anything to stay in her company a little longer.
    It wasn’t just a simple sandwich either, Josh discovered, although she put it together quickly enough and competently. Ham, hand-carved and thick, with rough Dijon mustard and romaine lettuce on home-made whole wheat bread. His mouth was seriously watering by the time she handed it to him.
    The first bite was very nearly heaven. He groaned in appreciation.
    Seeing the look in his eyes, the near reverence with which he savored the sandwich, and the moan, made Beth laugh again before she took a bite of her own.
    Gesturing around him, he said, “You do all this yourself?”
    She nodded.
    The sheer physical presence of him seemed to fill the room.
    Suddenly, she found herself trying to resist the urge to take him on a tour of the house.
    It wasn’t finished yet. There were rooms, doors she hadn’t opened. He would