Mr. H.O.A. by Carina Taylor (readera ebook reader .TXT) 📗

I just smiled. I’d have to give her a pretty darn good reason for why I was in a good mood. I couldn’t exactly tell her it was because of her. That wouldn’t be tolerated well. The shock of it might kill her.

Once we made it into the house, I turned my phone on silent, determined to ignore any and all texts related to HOA problems. I wanted to spend the afternoon with Nola. She seemed to recover from her bad mood the day before, which was fine because, I had a sneaking suspicion she was having a hard time with her kids. She’d mentioned something about Maya’s custody only in passing.

But I could put two and two together. Nola was the type to get attached. Spending time with those kids was something she loved to do. If one of the children ended up going back home to their parents, it probably broke Nola’s heart every single time she had to say goodbye. I didn’t doubt she wanted the best for them, but that didn’t lessen the sting.

She’d been willing to be there for me as I opened up, now I would be there for her—even if it meant letting her grump at me.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Homeowners Association Rule #13:

If a trespasser is spotted, immediately call the current neighborhood security guard.

At the end of every day, I had the privilege of answering a myriad of HOA texts. It was becoming painfully clear why Jan had passed the responsibility off with maniacal glee. Nola was no help. She simply laughed when I complained to her about the HOA problems every day.

Marcia: Why doesn't the HOA provide towels at the pool? 

Fredrick: Why doesn't the HOA allow me to mow my lawn at 4 am?

Carol: Why don't we require a visitor’s pass for day visitors?  

And then there was my new friend Harold, who kept coming up with oh-so-helpful suggestions, except he liked to impart them in person.

"Like I was saying, if every person had an ID badge with their thumbprint on it, I could know right away whether they belonged in the neighborhood. It could be something as simple as a scanner. Keeping out all the extra people. You know I'm thorough. And I take the safety of this neighborhood very seriously, but if you are expecting me to keep everything top shape with my limited resources—well that's just a miracle even I can't perform. Back in my army days..."

I tuned Harold out as I washed my car. Friday evenings were supposed to be a leisurely time for most people. Harold was making it a habit to stop by the house before his shift, or in the morning after his shift. Then he would proceed to chat with me about anything that crossed his mind. Usually, all the stories had a tie in with 'back in my army days.'

"What did you think of the proposed curfew changes?" I asked him, hoping to distract him from his army story.

Harold could talk and talk about his army days, unfortunately most of his stories weren't very interesting, and they rarely involved anything off base or beyond paper filing. My office dynamics were more exciting than his army days.

Apparently he didn't hear my question, because he continued telling his story. "They were so worried about me, but I just laughed, and that was how I ended up with a purple heart."

The dirty spots on my car tires had been more riveting than the story, but I couldn't help feeling that I missed some important aspect of the story.

"So when will I be getting my funding?"

With a sigh, I tossed my rag into the bucket. "Listen Harold, they might have elected me to be president of the HOA, but that doesn't mean I have any control over anything. The board members would be the ones who have to vote on something like that, and I can tell you right now, they are probably more concerned with updating to timed street lights—something that should make you happy since it's part of a safety concern as well."

"Well, it's not the best—"

Honk, honk! 

Nola pulled into the driveway next to my car. I’d dropped her off at work expecting to pick her up at the end of the day. At lunch time she sent me a text saying her car was done at the shop and that she’d be able to drive herself home.

She stepped out from the car, her eyes landing on my bare torso. She whistled, "Hey, good looking! Want to wash mine next?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat, reminding myself that she was just playing the part of my wife—that she probably didn't mean that appreciative look. It was getting harder to separate the real and the fake.

"I didn't know it was car wash day, honey. I would have tried to get home sooner so we could wash them together." Nola stepped close to my side, placing a hand on my bare chest. Her slender hand wrapped around the back of my neck as she tugged me closer to plant a lingering kiss on my cheek. She whispered, "Carol is ogling you from her living room window. I want to make sure she knows you're mine."

Her warm breath fanned over my wet skin. With a swallow, I laced a hand through her hair, tugging her close so I could kiss the top of her head.

Harold coughed loudly. "No public indecency allowed—even for the president of the HOA."

Nola's hand lingered on my chest as she turned to answer him, "Don't worry, Harold. Mr. HOA is the perfect rule follower. You can count on him."

She accentuated the last of her words with extra pats to my chest. She was trying to kill me. I was sure of it.

"Well, I'd better go lock up the pool, but let me know, Bane. I stand by what I said. Fingerprinting is exactly what we need here."

Harold adjusted his belt as he walked to the car parked in the middle of the street.

"Bye, Harold!" I called a little too cheerily as he