Free Reckoning by Molly M. Hall Page B

stepping around the side of the car before I can answer. “How nice to see you!” She is smiling a little too widely.
    “Hi, Mrs. Matheson. I was just offering Kat a hand with the bags.”
    “That would great! Thank you!” She beams like he’s just offered to do her landscaping for free, not simply carry in grocery bags. “Such a gentleman,” she mumbles softly, nudging me with her elbow.
    Lovell bends down to the trunk, grabbing the rest of the bags. I roll my eyes and head inside.
    I place the bags on the kitchen counter. I can sense Lovell right behind me. I step to the side and his arm brushes against mine. I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and take a long drink. He is watching me again.
    “So how are you settling in?” my mom asks, like she hasn’t seen him in a month.
    “OK,” he answers, slowly moving his gaze away from me to look at my mom. “Getting to know the neighborhood.”
    “Good! It’s a nice area. I think you’ll like it here.”
    “Yeah. I think so, too.” His eyes turn back to me.
    “Have you met Henry Davich yet, on the other side of us?”
    Lovell shakes his head. “No. Aside from you guys, I haven’t met anybody.”
    “One of the friendliest, most helpful people you’ll ever know.” She reaches for a flowered china bowl on one of the upper shelves. “You’ll see him out in his garden a lot this time of year. Be sure to introduce yourself.”
    “I will. Thanks.” Stepping forward, he smoothly grabs the bowl, placing it in my mother’s hands.
    She smiles gratefully, before filling it with fresh pears. I yank the carton of milk from a grocery bag and deposit it in the refrigerator with a loud plop.
    “You be sure and let us know if there’s anything we can do to help,” my mom says, pulling items out of the bags. “Would you like a pudding cup?” She tears open the package, offering him one of the small, plastic containers.
    A pudding cup? Oh, God, Mom. Please.
    “Sure,” Lovell says. “Thanks.” He peels back the top, and dips his finger in, keeping his eyes on me while he licks it off.
    I turn to the sink in disgust. What is with this guy? Is my mom blind?
    Reaching into a drawer, she hands him a spoon, the silly smile still on her face. I take a deep breath and start putting groceries away. As much as I want to escape, to be in any room where he isn’t , I’m not about to leave her alone with him. I suddenly feel like the mom watching over her wayward daughter. The whole thing is just wrong.
    Lovell leans against the counter, slowly eating the pudding, one ankle crossed over the other, muscles rippling beneath his gray t-shirt. I look away, tossing packages of rice and pasta into the cupboard.
    “How’s everything at the house?” my mom asks, arranging cans of vegetables in the cupboard. “Did you get the electricity figured out?”
    “Yeah, I did,” Lovell replies, twirling his spoon in the pudding. “Turns out there was a short in the wiring. He fixed it, but said the whole house should probably be re-wired. It’s pretty old. And definitely not up to supporting today’s electronics. But I’ll leave that up to my parents.”
    “And when are you parents moving in?” I ask bluntly, crumpling a grocery bag into a tight ball before dropping it into the trash.
    Lovell takes a bite of pudding, turning the spoon around backward before licking it clean. His blue eyes lock onto mine. “They’re hoping to be back end of August, first part of September. But sometimes their work ends up taking longer than expected. So, who knows? It might be just me for a while.” He keeps looking at me, his voice loaded with innuendo. How can my mom not be picking up on this?
    I turn my attention to the cans of tuna, aligning their labels before handing them to my mom.
    “Well, they should be commended for what they do,” my mom says, folding the last of the bags and placing them in a sack for recycling. “We should all be so generous with our time and