His and Hers by Ashley Ludwig

as he dusted off his palms. “Of the house. Prep and paint, trim work. That sort of thing. How much do you charge? For your services.” She eyed a big, black spider bothered by their work, and shooed it easily into the bushes beyond the porch rail. “What do you say?”
    Cain did a quick shoulder-shimmy. He dusted both palms across his jeans.
    She followed his line of sight to the many spider webs on the old front porch. A barely masked look of horror swept over his face. “Looking for something?”
    “No. Just making sure the spider’s gone.” He scrubbed his neck with quick fingers.
    “It’s gone. See?” She pointed to where the eight-legged creature now vanished into the hedge. “I don’t suppose you work for free.” She crossed her arms.
    “Meals would be nice. A beer after a hard day’s work, maybe? And of course. A turn on your swing once you de-spider the porch.”
    “Once I de-spider…? That’s right…” Misty bubbled with laughter at the look on Cain’s face. “Not a bug fan, huh?”
    “That’s one way of putting it.” Cain closed his eyes briefly and shot a sheepish grin. “All right. Add that to my tab. Any spiders I run across, you can squish for me. Okay?”
    “Deal.” She reached out a greasy, dusty hand, and he shook it without hesitation.
    “Now you’re stuck with me.” He picked up the sander. “Better get started before you change your mind.”
    The sound thrummed at her heart. Made her want to find other ways to amuse him so she could hear it again.
    Later, Misty watched through the lace-curtained window as he repainted the sanded porch railing. His lyrical voice matched key with the familiar, classic Bon Jovi tune playing on the boom box. The tone of Cain’s song over-laid Bon Jovi’s, note for note, then went off on his own rendition of the chorus. His melody was unique. Distinctive.
    He’s probably been singing that one since high school, she imagined, briefly entertaining thoughts of a young Cain in the hallowed halls of Long Valley High School. He could have been captain of the football team. Or basketball. Or wrestling. Definitely something athletic, with a build like his. She tilted her head, observing while he wiped his brow with the corner of his t-shirt, revealing a six-pack of well-formed abs showing just above the beltline of his jeans.
    “Caught you looking.” Grandma’s words startled from the kitchen doorway.
    Misty paused pushing the fabric through the sewing machine and reached for her seam-ripper. “I was listening. Nice voice. For an olive oil salesman.”
    “Sings, plays guitar, and sells olive oil.” Grandma’s brows rose in humor. “Sounds like you know quite a bit about our new handyman.”
    Misty shrugged. “He’s scared of spiders.” She finished releasing the errant seam and ran it through the machine again. “What kind of a man is scared of spiders? Or admits that to a woman?”
    “The kind of man who wants a glass of something cold?” Cain startled both ladies, smiling through the open window.
    “Lemonade work for you?” Grandma didn’t wait for an answer and turned to the kitchen cabinets for three mason glasses.
    They both listened to her picking up his rocking tune—singing on about the two young lovers living on a prayer. Stifling a giggle, she turned the new cushion cover inside out, and pulled at the corners.
    “Your grandma’s a kick.” Cain chuckled, and leaned on the windowsill, screen in between. “I heard your machine stop. What’cha making?”
    Misty pushed back from the table and took her creation outside. “Here. I’ll show you.”
    She stripped the old, shredded cushion of its cover. The aged fabric disintegrated in her hand. For the new one, she’d chosen a dark blue and white checked pattern interspersed with sunflowers. It was the perfect blend for the house, especially for the front porch swing. She pushed and pulled the foam into place until she was satisfied, and returned inside to gather up the