The Good Guy on my Porch by Katharine Sadler

Author:Katharine Sadler [Sadler, Katharine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Goodreads: 42509319
Published: 2018-11-03T00:00:00+00:00

***

“Hey, Oscar,” I said. He was sitting on the stoop, Buddy by his side. “Thanks for hanging out with Buddy.”

I sat on the top porch step, Buddy between us. I’d gotten a quick dinner out after work and then met Carrie at the bookstore, so I hadn’t had time to get home and take Buddy out. Sandra was on her porch, a low light illuminating the space, and she sent a wink my way. I waved over Oscar’s shoulder. Across the street, a few guys were throwing around a glow-in-the-dark frisbee across several front yards, laughing and yelling.

“I was happy to do it,” Oscar said. “Good shopping?” He pointed at my overflowing shopping bag.

“It always is at Willow’s bookstore.”

“Huh. I haven’t been in there, yet.”

I slapped a hand over my chest and gasped in mock-shock. “Please tell me it isn’t so. We must remedy this immediately.”

“How about tomorrow? I’ll pick you up after work, we can get dinner, and you can take me to the bookstore.”

“What about Buddy?”

“I’ll bring him,” he said. “I’ll drive.”

“Sounds good. Want to see the books I bought?”

“I do, but it will have to be inside. You missed the sunset and it’s too dark for me to read the titles.”

“I watched the sun set as I was walking home.” I’d watched the sunset and couldn’t help feeling that my carefully constructed house of lies was starting to crumble. I should have been terrified, but I felt an odd kind of relief. “Come on in and I’ll show you what I got.”

He and Buddy followed me inside. My place was cluttered, but I’d managed to do some dusting and vacuuming that week, so it was clean. I hated a dirty house and, with a dog, cleaning regularly was imperative.

I dropped the bag on the dining room table and spread out the books for Oscar to see. I’d expected him to give them a cursory glance and mutter something about them looking interesting, but he read each of the back covers and asked questions about them. Had I read anything by that author before? Did I actually enjoy reading horror? That sort of thing. I even let him borrow one of them, something I never did with new books, but he lived right next door, so I wasn’t worried. Not really.

He headed toward my front door, book in hand, but I didn’t want him to leave, didn’t want to be alone with my thoughts. Just didn’t want to be alone with myself.

“Want to go out? I could use a drink tonight.”

He spun and looked at me, worry creasing his brow. “Everything okay?”

I shrugged. I was tired of lying to him. “I had an argument with my mom. It’s no big deal. I promise I won’t keep you out late.”

I couldn’t make out his expression well in the dim light. “Sure,” he said. “I could handle a drink. What’s the happening place on a Friday at eight-thirty?”

I considered the options and I knew, based on the way I was feeling, that I needed to be careful.

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