Over the Fence (6 page)

“Excuse me?”

“I’m purring.”

“Oh. Is that what that was? I thought you had gas.”

The coffee burned as I struggled not to choke on it while I sniggered.

Gasping for air, I sat back; my bad morning suddenly became enjoyable. Kourtney was on a roll today.

“Are you okay, Nathan?” she asked, concerned.

“I’m good. Warn a guy before you’re gonna make him laugh, okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll get right on that.”

“And call me Nat.” I hesitated. “I like it when you call me Nat.”

“Okay then . . . Nat.”

Satisfied, I had another bite of the bagel.

It was quiet for a short while. As I ate and took my time with the second mug of coffee, I heard the rhythmic clicking of keys being hit. Kourtney must be working on a laptop. After a few minutes the clicking got louder and there was an occasional low-muffled curse. Next came the unmistakable sound of a laptop being shut in frustration.

“Problem, Chefgirl?”

“I was trying to find some information,” she responded with a deep sigh.

“Oh?”

“My laptop is doing strange things and being all . . . wonky. It won’t let me get to my list of stuff—you know, the document list thing—and there’s a recipe I want. And my connection doodad is so slow and keeps dying. I need to take it somewhere and I was trying to find a computer repair shop.”

I grinned at her distinctive description. Obviously, she didn’t know much about computers.

“But?”

“Well, because it’s acting so weird, it won’t let me. I can’t get to the internet to find a shop, so I guess I’ll have to drive around and look for one. Unless you can recommend a place?”

“Why don’t you use your phone to find one?”

“I don’t have a phone book. I haven’t picked one up yet.”

“I mean your cell phone. You can get the internet on your phone.”

“I don’t have a cell phone.”

I gaped at the fence. “What?”

“Yeah, I’m not much for technology.”

“Hence the ‘wonky’ laptop?”

“I guess.”

Standing up, I went over to the fence. “Hand it over.”

“What?”

“You happen to live next door to the most brilliant IT man to ever walk the face of the Earth,” I informed her. “Give me your laptop and I’ll look at it.”

“I can’t ask you to do that, Nat.”

“You didn’t. I offered. Hand it over, Chefgirl. I promise I won’t steal your recipes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Kourtney,” I began, now serious, “with all the generosity you’ve shown me since you moved in? The least I can do is look at your laptop.”

She was silent.

“Besides,” I teased, “sending you into a computer repair shop would be like throwing raw meat into a lion’s den. They’d eat you alive. Let me look at it.”

Her footsteps were slow as she approached the fence. Her laptop slid across the top.

“Thank you.”

“I assume you have a password?” I asked as I reached for it.

“Oh, yeah, it’s
emptiness
, and I used capital E and the number one for the ‘i.’ They always tell us to have a number and capital in our password at work.”

Frowning, I paused. It wasn’t the word I’d have expected from her. Opening up the laptop, I typed in the password, took a quick look at the hard drive, and groaned at the mess.

“When was the last time you defragged this?”

“I de—did what?”

I shook my head. “Your antivirus is expired. Do you know that?”

“Oh, right. I meant to do something about getting a new one. But I found it all confusing and I couldn’t tell what I should get.”

Amused, I rolled up my sleeves. “I’m gonna need more coffee. This is gonna take me some time.”

“Okay. I can do that. Anything else?”

“Probably lunch. Maybe even dinner. You have a real mess here.”

“Are you sure you have time? I don’t want to take you away from your plans.”

I laughed without humor. “My huge plan today was going to get some cream for my brown-colored water, and having a nap, after I got my hair trimmed. I’m pretty sure I can still squeeze it all in at some point.”

“I’ll get you cream while I go get the stuff for dinner.”

My ears perked up. “Dinner?”

“Yeah, a little birdie said something about souvlaki.”

I groaned as my fingers flew over the keyboard, thinking about how amazing her dinner would be. She was getting this laptop back in perfect working order.

“Off with you, Chefgirl. I need to work for my dinner.”

A thump made me turn. There was a thermos on top of the fence.

I grinned—what a great fucking weekend this was turning out to be.

“Is there more?” I asked, wiping my mouth, looking toward the fence in expectation.

“Seriously?” Kourtney’s voice was incredulous. “You already ate two burgers, Nat! Two
big
burgers. You have room for another one?” Then she sighed and laughed. “Wait, who am I talking to? Of course you have room for more, don’t you?”

I chuckled as I approached the fence, grinning in anticipation of eating a third burger. “First, they’re fucking awesome and I’m a growing boy; so yeah, lots of room. And second, it’s not like the usual, where you pile on the vegetables and salad . . . no side dishes. All I got is the meat, so gimme another one, Chefgirl. Please?” I pushed my plate to the middle of the fence. “I’ve been working hard all morning. I even got my hair cut while I grabbed a couple things at the electronics store.”

I heard her melodious giggle—the sound that made my chest feel lighter. I smiled wider as another fat burger appeared on the plate, only glimpsing the end of her fingers. I grabbed the plate and climbed down. “Are you short?” I asked. “As in stature wise?”

“Um, sort of.”

“Maybe I need to cut a hole in the fence, to make it easier for you.”

“No! It’s fine, honestly.”

I frowned at the sound of the panic I could hear radiating from her voice. “Relax—I was only teasing. I don’t own a saw anyway. I don’t want anything to hinder the feeding cycle.”

“Well, I don’t want you in trouble with the co-op. You know, for destroying the fence. That’s all.”

I threw a disbelieving glance toward the fence. Really, the girl was a lousy liar. But rather than challenging her, I grunted as I chewed on the delicious burger in front of me. “Thanks.”

“Head’s up.”

I looked up in time to see an object come sailing over the fence. I caught it without a problem, and burst out laughing.

“Chips? A package of potato chips? From you?” I gasped, pretending to be horrified.

“You wanted a side dish. It’s all I got. Maybe they’ll help fill you up.”

“You make me proud. This is the sort of side dish I take to potlucks. I’m famous for it. If I’m feeling extra creative, I buy the dip, too.”

Kourtney began to laugh, and I couldn’t stop my grin listening to it. Whereas her giggle was delightful and filled with mischief, her laugh was almost sultry; low, warm and filled with life. The sound was so much louder than the usual level I associated with her when she spoke. It was as if her amusement simply couldn’t be contained and spilled out on its own accord. It made me happy.

“I like that,” I mused.

“Like what?”

“Your laugh.”

“
My laugh
?”

I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me. “It’s like unexpected sunshine on a dark cloudy day, Kourtney,” I said, after swallowing a mouthful. “I love hearing it. Your giggles light me up, too.”

The silence on the other side of the fence was deafening. Nothing moved, and there was no sound for what seemed an eternity. I cursed myself for once more speaking aloud, except this time I had wanted her to know what I was thinking.

Then Kourtney giggled.

“That was, without a doubt, the cheesiest thing you have ever said to me, Nat. Did you hear it in some bad chick flick you were forced to watch?”

I chuckled with her in relief. “I was hoping for another meal later,” I teased half-heartedly, glad she wasn’t upset. It was obvious she didn’t like personal remarks, unless it was to compliment her cooking.

I wondered why that was. I thought women liked compliments—at least the ones I knew did.

“No worries, Tomcat. Dinner’s on me. But stay away from the Romance channel, okay?”

“No problem. Your mess of a laptop should keep me away at least until the end of the day,” I stated dryly.

“It’s that bad?”

“I’ve seen worse. Not many, but a few. Not to worry. It’ll be as good as new soon enough. Better even, when I’m done.”

“I appreciate it.”

I finished the burger and leaned back. “I know, Kourtney. I’m happy to help.” I wanted her to know I truly meant it.

“I’m gonna go and make something right now. The door is open. If you need anything; you can holler, okay?”

“Yep.”

I sat motionless after she went inside. I could hear her moving around and the sound of Celtic music filled the air—the lilting notes tranquil. I was perplexed thinking about her reaction to my statement. I did like her laugh, and her giggles, which I often found irritating in most women. However, hers, for some reason, made me smile. In fact, I liked everything about her.

I had never
listened
to voices before now—heard the nuances or inflections that set them apart from one another, but with Kourtney I did. I could tell so much about her mood from the tone of her voice. I looked forward to talking with her, sharing my day. Listening to her soothed me and made me feel as though I was no longer alone. It was a new feeling for me; but one I was strangely okay with. Somehow, though, I knew I needed to keep those thoughts to myself.

Sighing, I went back to work, my lips quirking up as I caught sight of the bag of unopened chips beside me. My side dish.

Maybe I was rubbing off on her.

“Okay, listen up, Kourtney with a K.”

I pushed the laptop across the top of the fence. “I defragged it. I got rid of the
multitude
of viruses and spyware you had. I added a good antivirus software. I cleaned up your hard drive. I backed it up and saved your data. You do know what a backup is, right?”

“Yes.”

“You need to do that on a regular basis.”

“Um, my computer at work is automatically backed up nightly. I guess I never think about it.”

I pushed another small device her way. “Here’s an external hard drive. Plug it in every Sunday. It’ll automatically back up everything you’ve done in the past week.”

“Oh. Really? Just plug it in?”

I rolled my eyes at the worry I could hear. “Yes, all you have to do is connect it. It’s programmed to do everything automatically. I also added some more memory to the laptop so it should be faster. Plus, I upgraded your operating system. And lastly, here is a USB key. It’s a portable memory drive. You can take files back and forth to work.” I paused and cleared my throat. “Do you have something against your screen, by the way? Do you poke it on a regular basis? It was covered in fingerprints. Dusty ones.”

She giggled. “It’s habit. The computers at the lab are all touch screen and sometimes I forget mine isn’t. I try and scroll up when looking at a recipe and it doesn’t work.”

“Well, that explains the unusual amount of flour I found on the keyboard. I sucked it all out with my vacuum tool, but you should wipe your fingers.”

“Okay.”

Her chair moved as she sat down and I heard the slight squeak of the laptop lid being opened. “Wow. I didn’t expect all this. Thank you. Please let me pay you for this little, um, backer upper? And the memory stuff?”

“Nope. Consider it a trade. You keep feeding me, Chefgirl, and I’ll keep your laptop functional. Next, we’ll work on a cell phone for you. Should I ask about your cable hook-up? Do you have cable?”

“Um, yes?”

“Why does that sound more like a question than an answer?” I replied, sitting back down at the table, packing up the various items I’d been using to fix her laptop.

“Well, I have it. I haven’t quite figured out how to hook up everything.”

I shook my head. Of course she hadn’t. Seeing the shape her laptop was in, I wasn’t surprised she hadn’t attempted to wire up her TV and components.

“You want me to come over? I can do that for you?”

There was no mistaking the sound of a chair toppling over as she stood up quickly. “
No
!”