Dark clouds seemed to roll in out of nowhere, casting a shadow across the yard. Dee frowned. “Oh no! It looks like we’re going to get one of our famous afternoon rainstorms. They usually last a couple of hours.”
“That’s too bad. I guess we better plan to garden tomorrow instead. Are you available?”
“Sure thing.” Dee shivered in the suddenly chilly air.
“Wonder where this storm came from. It seemed to come out of nowhere, didn’t it?” I asked.
Dee jumped up from the swing, wiping her hands on her pants. “Looks that way. Well, I think your mom is up, and I need to wake Daemon.”
“Sleeping? That’s a little late.”
“He’s weird,” Dee said. “I’ll be back tomorrow, and we can head to the garden shop.”
Laughing, I slid off the rail. “Sounds good.”
“Great!” She skipped down the steps and twirled around. “I’ll tell Daemon you said hi!”
I felt my cheeks turn a fiery red. “Uh, that won’t be necessary.”
“Trust me, it is!” She laughed and then sprinted to the house next door. Joy.
Mom was in the kitchen, coffee in hand. As she faced me, steaming brown liquid sloshed over the counter. The innocent look on her face gave it away.
Grabbing a towel, I walked over to the counter. “She lives next door, her name is Dee, and I ran into her while I was at the grocery store.” I swiped the towel over the splotches of coffee. “She has a brother. His name is Daemon. They’re twins.”
“Twins? Interesting.” She smiled. “Is Dee nice, dear?”
I sighed. “Yes, Mom, she’s very nice.”
“I’m so happy. It’s about time you came out of your shell.”
I didn’t realize I was in a shell.
Mom blew softly and then took a sip, eyeing me over the rim. “Did you make plans to hang out with her tomorrow?”
“You would know. You were listening.”
“Of course.” She winked. “I’m your mother. That is what we do.”
“Eavesdropping on conversations?”
“Yes. How else am I supposed to know what is going on?” she asked innocently.
I rolled my eyes and turned to go back into the living room. “Privacy, Mom.”
“Honey,” she called from the kitchen, “there is no such thing as privacy.”
Chapter 3
The day my Internet was hooked up was better than having a hot guy check out my butt and ask for my phone number. Since it was Wednesday, I’d typed up a quick “Waiting on Wednesday” post for my blog featuring this YA book about a hot boy with a killer touch—can’t go wrong there—apologized for my extended absence, responded to comments, and stalked a few other blogs I loved. It was like coming home.
“Katy?” Mom yelled up the stairs. “Your friend Dee is here.”
“Coming,” I shouted back and closed the lid of my laptop.
I skipped down the stairs, and Dee and I headed off to the hardware store, which wasn’t anywhere near FOO LAND like Daemon had said. They had everything needed for me to fix that gross flower bed out front.
Back home, we each grabbed a side of a bag and hauled it out of my trunk. The bags were ridiculously heavy and by the time we’d gotten them out of the car, sweat poured off of us.
“Want to get something to drink before we drag those bags over to the flower beds?” I offered, arms aching.
She wiped her hands against each other and nodded. “I need to lift weights. Moving stuff sucks.”
We headed inside and grabbed iced tea. “Remind me to join the local gym,” I joked, rubbing my puny arms.
Dee laughed and twisted her sweat-soaked hair from her neck. She still looked gorgeous, even red-faced and tired. I’m sure I looked like a serial killer. At least now we knew I was too weak to do any real damage. “Umm. Ketterman. Our idea of a gym is dragging your garbage can to the end of a dirt road or hauling hay.” I dug up a hair tie for her, joking about the uncoolness of my new small-town life. We’d only been inside ten minutes tops, but when we went back out, all the bags of soil and mulch were stacked next to the porch.
I glanced at her, surprised. “How did they get over here?”
Dropping down on her knees, she started pulling up the weeds. “Probably my brother.”
“Daemon?”
She nodded. “He’s always the thankless hero.”
“Thankless hero,” I muttered. Not likely. I’d sooner believe the bags levitated over here on their own.
Dee and I attacked the weeds with more energy than I thought we had. I’ve always felt pulling weeds was a great way to let off steam, and if Dee’s jerky movements were any indication, she had a lot to be frustrated about. With a brother like hers, I wasn’t surprised.
Later, Dee stared at her chipped nails. “Well, there went my manicure.”
I grinned. “I told you, you should’ve gotten gloves.”
“But you’re not wearing any,” she pointed out.
Lifting my dirt-stained hands, I winced. My nails were usually chipped. “Yeah, but I’m used to it.”
Dee shrugged and went over and grabbed a rake. She looked funny in her skirt and wedge sandals, which she insisted were the height of gardening couture, and dragged the rake over to me. “This is fun, though.”
“Better than shopping?” I joked.
She seemed to consider it seriously, scrunching her nose. “Yeah, it’s more…relaxing.”
“It is. I don’t think when I’m doing stuff like this.”