Chapter Text
It's the dog days of summer and she is so sick of sitting around in the AC. When she hears the hum of a push mower and notices the peachy hue outside her window, Denise takes her iced tea to her front porch for the evening.
Christ, it's still so warm even with the sun so low. Joel Miller is perfectly in view across the street. She's glad she hired the guy to trim her Ash tree last week. Joel mutters something and let's go of the mowers bar so it shuts off automatically.
Joel switched out of his usual denim work pants into khaki cargo shorts for this particular job. They're his mowing shorts and she'd rather not tell anyone how she knows that, except for the worn holes in the corners of the back pockets and green grass stains making it obvious. His calves aren't as tan as his arms and neck but they're just as strong. She watches him bend at the waist, his huge palm swallowing up the tennis ball that belongs to Mercy the dog and tossing it back into her yard.
The sweat stains his grey t shirt darker around the collar and his pits, as she watches his triceps pop as he pulls the cord to the mower to start it back up with one swift motion. Skullcrushers, she remembers someone calling those muscles in a man's arms, she wonders what kind of scary nickname those broad shoulders and back muscles could be called. His big hands grip the mower once more and he starts in again. His veiny forearms are visible even from where she sits. Even tired after his long work day, she watches him take time to make a nice crosshatch pattern in his small yard.
He's finished up, he swipes a dirty calloused palm through his sweaty chestnut hair and sweeps it off his forehead. Hmm, it's a good look. The ice melts in Denise's drink, cold condensation seeping through her fingers, evaporating before it even reaches the concrete below. The sunset is deep orange now, but with the storm clouds coming in, the air now takes on that green ominous hue. Fresh cut grass wafts through the air and the birds are noisy as they head to bed.
Joel's shorts have slipped lower down his narrow hips, almost revealing that little v muscle, he raises an arm to wave at her. His T-shirt lifts, Adonis belt, that's what it's called, and she shouts a little louder than she should, "Hey, Joel!"
He looks at the tiny patch of grass in front of his old neighbors house, he sighs and starts the mower back up.
Denise goes inside to bring Joel a glass of iced tea.