Down on Love by Jayne Denker

growled.
     
    “Oh God.”
    Casey took a minute to rest his forehead on the steering wheel of his truck. Smooth, Bowen. Real smooth. The first time he’d seen Georgiana Down in years, and he ended up teasing her— teasing her, for the love of Pete, just like he’d always done—about what was clearly an accident.
    And he’d called her Goose. Oh God. Real mature. But it had just popped out—an old habit resurfacing, without his even thinking about it. He’d given her the nickname years ago, a cute name for a cute kid—Sera’s little sister. The older and prettier she’d gotten, the more frequently he’d used it—to create a barrier, keep her at a distance.
    But calling her Goose now? Mortifying. He felt like a complete tool.
    He couldn’t get out of there fast enough, before he dug the hole deeper. Well, now he could take a long time getting the part for the sink. Whatever the part was. He had no idea what he needed to fix the sink—he’d been looking at it one minute, and the next he’d nearly blacked out from his nether regions being crushed by flying canned goods. Oh hell, he’d buy an entirely new faucet. And new pipes. And connectors. And three thousand different sizes of washers. He didn’t care. He just needed some time away from the house to regroup.
    He rolled his head in a circle to loosen up his suddenly tight neck muscles, squared his shoulders, and started his truck. Just as he was putting it into gear, George came out of the house with Amelia, now in dry clothes, on her hip. She marched up to his passenger side door and knocked on the window.
    When he lowered it, she reached in, some money in her fist. “Sera says to take this for whatever you need at the hardware store.”
    Casey shook his head. “It’s okay. It’s covered.”
    “What are you talking about? You buy my sister plumbing supplies now?”
    He considered her a minute. It was so odd; she was the same old Goose, but at the same time, nothing like her. Like a different person, semitransparent, was overlaid on top of the Georgiana Down he used to know. When he’d first focused on her in the kitchen, he saw a new, self-assured, mature woman he didn’t know. And then, when he least expected it, the young girl came through, and she was as familiar as ever. Like right then, when she brushed her reddish-blond hair back from her forehead with her wrist. She always used to do that when she was frustrated or confused. Or just overly warm, on a hot summer day, like today was turning out to be.
    Before he even knew he was speaking, he heard himself say, “Get in. Come with me.” What? A minute ago he’d wanted nothing more than to get as far away from George as possible, but who was he kidding? He didn’t want distance. After so many years without her around, he felt the need to be near her. More than anything.
    George stopped short, startled, almost alarmed. “I— why? ”
    Casey scrambled for a reason. “I’m going to buy a new faucet. I need you to help me pick one out.”
    “Seriously?”
    Wait—had he just sounded sexist? Craaap. “No, I mean . . . I just . . .” Oh, Bowen the Blithering Idiot was back. Fantastic. He took a breath to collect himself. “Sera can be pretty . . . particular. I figured you’d be able to help me get one she wouldn’t throw at my head.”
    George smirked. “You actually expect me to pick out plumbing fixtures .”
    Yeah, that sounded pretty obnoxious. “No, not just . . . It’s . . . it’s good to see you. It’s been a long time. It’d be good to, you know, catch up.”
    “Without my lobbing canned goods into your privates.”
    “It does sort of limit conversation.” He turned on what he hoped was a winning smile, not a manic leer. “So, what, you have someplace else to be?”
    “I should be mopping up the water in the kitchen.”
    “It can wait, Cinderella.”
    She studied him for a second. Then, “You don’t have a car seat for Amelia.”
    His stomach flipped. That was as good