Jessa James - Handy

In the small space, jumping from unpacking then back to the food on the stove I thought about the awkward encounters I’d had with my new neighbor. How dare he stick his nose where it didn’t belong? I’d come to learn his name from his sweet daughter Kadee, but Derek Varden was nothing more than an interfering busy-body and a know it all. I couldn’t get the smug look he had on his face when he practically chastised me about the porch.

Totally arrogant and overbearing. Not my type at all. Too many years around army bases had cured me of that notion.

First he came over claiming to help, a torch in his hand, only to back away, removing the offer, forcing me to take matters into my own hands. And then the next day he had the audacity to tell me how to fix up my own house? Just because his was perfect and didn’t have a porch that was caving in he had to come interfere with mine?

And yet why did my body flush and tremble whenever I was around him? Why did I feel the need to throttle him at the same time as kissing him? I groaned.

As the homely food aroma filled the place I began to question my own behavior each time we’d met. This wasn't really the way I wanted to start things off was it? This was going to be my dream home, where I’d envisaged spending my the rest of my life. Staying put for good. What use was a senseless feud with a neigbor? He had technically only tried to help me since I’d arrived hadn't he? At least from his perspective. Had I overreacted?

By the time I’d finished putting the kitchen items into their suitable places, finding them homes in the now not so dusty cupboards, the food was ready and there was more than enough to feed me for a couple of days. I’d made far too much in my eagerness and decided right there and then that part of the batch was going to be my peace offering; I’d take it over and make nice. We could start over. I just hoped I wouldn’t regret my decision.

Confidently I stepped outside, but uncertainty crept back in with each step I took. I was caught between apprehension at how my intrusion would be received and a little nervous at being face to face with Derek again.

His house opposite was a similar style to my new dream home, slightly smaller but with a large garage to the side. The front was very tidy with a tasteful splash of flowering pots. One day mine would look even better I thought, he obviously didn’t have the same flare I had.

With one final deep breath I stepped up to the door and rapped loudly with the ornate brass knocker that adorned the front door, then waited. My legs practically shook and I locked my knees. This wasn’t a good idea but I willed myself to stay and face the music.

Starting off in a new place with neighbors that hated me was not on my agenda, and I certainly did not want the rest of the neighborhood to get the wrong idea. If this was to be my permanent home after countless years bouncing from town to town, country to country, then I had to make an effort.

After a nerve-wracking long moment the door opened. Derek stood there surveying me with a bemused look on his rugged face. He was clad in a tight white t-shirt with a hint of perspiration on his forehead. He looked positively dreamy, in an all-American kinda way.

“Hi?” he said tentatively mopping his head with the cloth he held.

Even that simple motion flexed his bicep in a very distracting manner.

“Hi, I—er…” I tried to quickly recover from the sudden quickening of my heart. “I brought a peace offering. I don’t think we got off on the right foot. Entirely the wrong foot in fact. So I was hoping we could start over? We can forget what happened, actually let’s just forget the last twenty-four hours.”

Derek seemed reluctant to welcome me in, the door only part way open, his muscle-bound form blocking the way inside. The only reaction I detected in response to my rambling was the slight raising of his eyebrow.

“Of course I still want to make amends for the breakage last night,” I quickly added. When he didn’t respond I continued rambling on like a fool. “It’s just mac and cheese, but I thought it might be good for Kadee too?” I raised the covered dish up higher, letting the comforting creamy scent of my creation waft his way.

His eyes noticeably lit up at this.

“Kadee’s taking a nap after the long journey. But I love mac and cheese myself. And I have to admit it smells great.”

His unquenchable good manners of his upbringing seemed to be bubbling to the surface in response to my new approach. He was about to reach out to take the dish when he paused.

“Wait, how about you, have you eaten?” he inquired.

“I have plenty, don't worry, I just wanted to—”

“Oh, that wont do, come in. I could definitely use a quick meal and I'm sure you've been busy with the move. There’s plenty here, I insist. To making amends?”

This had not been my plan, but his sincere insistence and the hunger I felt at the aroma drove me to accept.

“Okay, sure.” I nodded my acceptance as he took the dish and headed back into the house leaving the door wide open.

“Come on through to the kitchen,” he called behind him.

I stepped in, closing the door quietly behind me and followed him through the lounge. The place looked amazing even at a glance, there was only a little clutter here and there like on the coffee table; papers, a coloring book, and a few of what I presumed were Kadee’s toys. What stood out though was all of the fittings and fixtures around the interior of the house. I’d been studying enough home décor magazines to notice all the immaculate and thoughtful detailing that had been installed in the place. I spied hardwood-trim base boards that must have cost a small fortune. Not to mention the gorgeous crown molding around the windows or the decorative columns that surrounded the edge of the archway through to the dining room. It looked how I imagined my new place being fitted out.

“Your place looks incredible,” I called to the sound of plates in the kitchen just ahead.

“Thanks,” came the reply as he popped his head back round the kitchen door.

“Have you lived here long?”

“Yeah you could say that. And I’ve been working on this place for years now. I think I'm just about done. Ready for my next challenge.” He looked away as he said the latter, his eyes storming over.

“Seriously, you did all this?” I asked with disbelief, taken back a little by the beauty of the kitchen that met my eyes. “By yourself?”

“No need to sound so surprised, this is what I do.”

The casserole dish, plates and cutlery had been arranged welcomingly on the large island; a hardwood top that I longed to run my hands over.

“Please,” he said offering me one of the stools to sit at. “Do you want a drink?”

“No no, I'm fine.” I said taking a seat and studied the rest of the kitchen, sucking up as much detail as possible. It was an almighty good thing I’d left my phone back at the house otherwise I would’ve been tempted to take shots of his handy-work and upload them to my Pinterest board.

Derek dished out his own healthy sized portion and began to tuck in. He seemed much more laid back in his own surroundings, almost adorable. It felt so good to be defusing the tension of our previous encounters. I scooped out a good dollop and joined in, munching on the food.

“This is great,” he said through the side of a half chewed mouthful, jabbing his empty fork at what remained of his portion.

“It’s a secret family recipe,” I joked and smiled. “You’ve lived here years then, what’s the area really like?” I asked, picking a conversation topic that hadn't already brought us into conflict during our brief times together.

He paused his steady intake of food for a moment to consider this.