Waiting for the Storm by Marie Landry Read Free Book Online Page B

through the screen. A guy in long khaki shorts, a white undershirt, and heavy work boots crouched on the porch near the steps, pulling up boards and throwing them onto the lawn with a loud clatter. Not wanting to disturb him, I turned to go back upstairs, but my foot caught on the mat inside the door and I stumbled, dropping my apple with a loud thunk .
    The guy outside turned, and I caught a glimpse of his face under his low baseball cap. It was the boy from last night and earlier this morning—my neighbour. He tilted his head to the side as he had before and looked at me expectantly, so I opened the screen door and stepped outside.
    “Hey,” I said, giving him a lame little wave. “I’m Charlotte.”
    “Ezra.” He rose from his crouched position and pulled one glove off, wiping his hand on his shorts before holding it out to shake. “Nice to meet you.”
    His hand was warm and rough, and so big it enveloped mine. “You too.” Was it just my imagination or was this exchange seriously awkward?
    He released my hand and we stood and stared at each other. Yes, this was definitely awkward. I’d never had trouble talking to guys before, but for some reason Ezra left me speechless.
    “I’m basically going to have to redo the entire porch,” he said, filling the silence. “I’m surprised it’s lasted this long without collapsing. Whoever built it didn’t use the proper wood and now it’s rotting from water damage.”
    “Sounds expensive,” I commented, unsure what else to say.
    “It won’t be cheap,” he agreed. “But your dad…that is your dad, right?” He pointed toward the house, and I nodded. “He said to do whatever needed to be done and that cost wasn’t a problem.”
    I nodded again. I wasn’t sure how much money Mom had set aside for repairs on this old place, but I was sure it was substantial. She’d loved it so much, she said fixing it up was her way of giving back for all the summers she’d spent here and the wonderful memories she’d made.
    “I’ll do a good job,” Ezra said, almost defensively. “It’ll last a hell of a lot longer than this did.”
    “I didn’t mean to imply…” I sighed. This was why I didn’t talk to people anymore.
    He shook his head. “Sorry. Let’s rewind on that. I’m Ezra Rhodes, I live next door, and I promise I’m not really a jerk.” He gave me a little grin that had my lips tugging upward in response.
    “Charlotte O’Dell, new occupant of 20 Greenwood Lane. And I didn’t think you were a jerk.”
    His smile widened slightly, and he turned back to his work, raising his voice so I could hear him. “You’ll want to use the back door for awhile, at least until I get the porch down completely and set up temporary steps for you.”
    “Sure, okay…thanks.” I watched him work, his arm and back muscles rippling as he loosened boards and pulled them up before tossing them onto the grass. A slight breeze wafted across the porch and brought the scent of sunscreen with it. Even though it was early summer, Ezra was already quite tanned. He must have forgotten to apply lotion to the back of his neck, because it was already starting to turn red.
    I’m not sure how long I stood watching him, but he must have sensed my eyes on him, because he turned and met my gaze.
    “Sorry. I’m just gonna go inside.” I pointed behind me unnecessarily. “I’ll see you later.”
    “Later,” he called as I stepped quickly through the door.
    It was cool and dark in here compared to outside, and I stood in the front hallway waiting for my eyes to adjust. Upon returning to the kitchen, I discovered Dad was gone, although his laptop and papers were still on the kitchen table.
    I glanced at the screen and saw the website for the University of Toronto, where Dad was a professor. He’d finished classes several weeks ago, but always spent a good chunk of the summer writing papers for various journals and doing research for projects and curriculum.
    Over the last few