Nailed It

by Cindi Madsen

  The door swung open, and Jackson stepped back inside, sans mouse but with the same annoying grin on his face. “Did you say something?”

  “Let’s just get to work so we can get this over with as soon as possible.” I left him to the kitchen and moved on to the baseboards in the living room that were so old that they’d become one with the walls and didn’t want to leave. The multiple layers of paint acted as glue, and the wood was old enough that it often split in several pieces. I almost wished for wallpaper-stripping work again.

  “Stripping work,” I muttered with a laugh. If this becomes a permanent gig and people ask me what I do for a living, I can say that I’m a stripper, and it’ll make them so uncomfortable and be super entertaining for me.

  About an hour in, Jackson called out to me, asking if I could “come here for a quick sec.”

  “I don’t know,” I called back. “Last time I went in there, it didn’t go so well, and I’m not in the mood for another prank.”

  His sigh carried through the walls. “No pranks. I just don’t have enough hands for this job, and if you want the electricity fully functional, you’re gonna need to get your ass in here and give me a hand.”

  With a sigh of my own, I left my tools on the floor, forced my cramped legs into motion, and walked into the kitchen.

  “Hold this.” He lifted pliers that were pinched around the bundle of wires I’d unearthed yesterday. “The wires don’t have much give. I can’t quite keep ‘em all in place, and I’m having trouble getting hold of a wire that slipped down in the hole.”

  I eyed the tangled mess. “You can see where I’d be hesitant, considering you mentioned electrocution yesterday.”

  Making a big show of it, he touched the ends of several wires. “I shut off the power. Thus no lights, and if we don’t get them on soon, it’s going to get dark in here fast.” As soon as I took the rubber-gripped pliers from him, he added, “Besides, I’m saving electrocuting you until after I get paid.”

  “Ha-ha.”

  He started around me one way, then moved the other. I tried to flatten myself as much as I could. “Sorry. I just…” Jackson wrapped his arms around me—no, not around me, but one was on either side, and as he wiggled the wires, the firm planes of his chest pressed into my shoulder.

  The tip of his tongue came out as he fiddled with the bundle, giving him a boyish edge that made my stupid heart flutter.

  “There.” His gaze dipped to mine, and the air changed, suddenly thicker and higher-charged than the electricity not currently running through the wires I was holding on to.

  I cleared my throat, silently cursing my sexual drought and how on edge it’d left me. “So I can let go?”

  He nodded.

  I stepped aside and watched him fiddle with the wires, then rubbed a hand on the side of my neck. “Do you need me for anything else?”

  He glanced back at me, eyebrows raised, and I cursed myself for phrasing the question that way. I held my ground, though, daring him to make an innuendo out of it—or daring him not to, I wasn’t really sure.

  He twisted some kind of cap on the bundle and dropped it into the hole in the wall. “Come with me to the basement and I’ll show you the breaker box so you can see how to turn it off and on and what to do if you blow a breaker when I’m not here.”

  “A please wouldn’t kill you now and then, you know. I’m not one of your employees.”

  He ran a hand through his hair, his muscles tight with tension. “Please let me show you how this house works, since you’ll be the one here most of the time, and it could come in handy for you.”

  This time I was the one who plastered on a maniacal grin. “You’re welcome that I’m letting you demonstrate your handyman skills.”

  He tipped up his head to the heavens like he was asking for strength. Then he whipped a tiny flashlight out of his tool belt and extended it to me.

  “Look at you with your cute little tool belt, all ready for action.”

  “Oh, I’m always ready for action.” He nudged me toward the basement door, and he wasn’t exactly gentle about it. I opened the door and hesitated at the threshold. Like in the attic, the darkness was so heavy it pressed against my skin. Or maybe that was the chilly air coming from the unheated space, but either way, the tiny beam of light didn’t do enough to assure me that I wouldn’t encounter a spider infestation or barrage of any other disgusting critters that liked deep, dark places. My logical side knew that I was bigger than spiders and they should be more afraid of me than me of them, but that didn’t stop me from fearing the eight-legged creatures of doom.

  “You go first,” I said, extending the flashlight back to him.

  “Afraid there are monsters in the basement?” he teased, his fingers curling around mine as he took the flashlight out of my hand. “Or that there’s a serial killer who’s bided his time for years, just hoping someone would wander down?”

  I considered telling him yes and that I was far more willing to sacrifice his life than mine, but I figured we’d done enough endangerment jabs today. “Spiders, okay? So I’m going to use you as a shield against the webs.”

  “You realize I’ve already been down here once today. Plus, the spiderwebs will drape over me and crawl down my back, right onto you.”

  I shoved him, repressing a shiver. “Ugh, stop it. You’re making it worse.”

  “Careful, woman.” He dramatically gripped the doorframe. “You’re about to shove me down a rickety wooden flight of stairs.”

  “Call me woman again and I’ll go ahead and do it.”

  “Okay, dude,” he said, taking the first step into the dim, stuffy-smelling basement.

  I shoved him again, making it on the barely-qualifies-as-a-shove side so he wouldn’t lose his balance for real.

  He chuckled. “Okay, nonentity.”

  “Better.”

  The farther we descended into the depths of the basement, the heavier the darkness became. I’d tried to keep a few inches between us, but now I crouched closer, using Jackson like a shield, my fingers curling into his T-shirt.

  At the foot of the stairs he turned, and since I wasn’t expecting it, I bumped into him. I gripped his biceps for a moment so I wouldn’t fall, then quickly let go when the urge to hang on for a while filled me.

  “Okay, so here are all the breakers,” he said. “If you blow one, it’s usually red.”

  Something about being in the mostly dark heightened my senses. His voice sounded deeper and my heart beat harder. I moved closer, partly because I was still thinking about spiders, but mostly because I could feel the warmth coming off his body and it was cold down here.

  Yeah. For survival purposes. No southern girl could survive when the temperature dropped below sixty degrees, so why should I be any different?

  He flipped the large switch on top, turning the electricity back on, but the only light in the basement was a bare bulb with a tiny string hanging down. It highlighted Jackson’s hair and how much taller and bulkier he was.

  “I think we’re good to go,” he said.

  “Awesome.”

  “What on earth possessed you to take on a huge project like this, anyway? Seems like a bigger commitment than your norm.”

  I tilted my head. “It’s like you never want me to stop shoving you.” I kicked at the dirty floor with my tennis shoe. Last night I’d danced around the topic a bit, guiding the conversation to home repair facts and figures. I didn’t want him to think I’d been driven by emotions, because I prided myself on the fact that I usually wasn’t. “I just thought it was something I might be good at. Turns out I’m probably wrong, but I’m going to see it through anyway.”

  When I went to turn around and head back upstairs, he stopped me with a hand on my arm. “Why this house?” Of all the things he could’ve followed up with, for some reason I hadn’t expected that, and it threw me off. “I know that once you set your mind to something, it’s just about impossible to change it…”

  I wondered i
f that was another jab at my fear of commitment. Toward the end of our amazing nights together, he’d said something about how maybe things could be different with us. That maybe two commitaphobes could make a right. Or a couple. Anyway, it was enough for me to know that I had to cut it off.

  Not to mention that I knew fear of commitment wasn’t why he hadn’t settled down yet, and several of my rules had been waving at me in the rearview mirror, dragging my safety net along with them. So I’d shut it down, and when he didn’t simply give up like I’d expected, I’d pushed even harder. Things spun out of control, anger overtaking everything else and turning to hate so quickly.

  We’d hurt each other, which was what I’d been trying so hard to avoid. It just proved that once certain lines were crossed, you couldn’t avoid it, and the experience left me that much more determined to never cross them with anyone again.

  “Last night, when you said that you didn’t want to do anything differently structurally but to keep the classic style while throwing in modern touches, I could tell this house means something more to you. More than just an opportunity to flip a house and make some money, the way you implied.”

  “You caught me,” I said. “I guess…” The dim lighting made it easier, even if my spider paranoia was also kicking into high gear—I shuffled a few extra inches away from the wall. “Well, I guess you could say this is the closest place to home I had growing up. You know enough about my mom…”

  That was another landmine subject. In a way, she was also the reason I’d not just come close to breaking my rules with Jackson, but to full-on breaking one of my biggest ones with him.

  Way #3: Never rely on a guy too much. They’re not life preservers. One day you’ll jump only to find he’s not there anymore, and then it’ll feel like you’re drowning without him.

  The truth was, I’d broke more than one when it came to Jackson, but that was the realization that’d scared the crap out of me and shook me the hardest. I couldn’t go back to that. Couldn’t wait for him to pull the rug out from under me one day and be weaker for it. As I’d realized the other night at the engagement party, even just being friends with Savannah had left me weaker than I wanted to be.

  That’s a bad path to go down right now. Focus on answering his question.

  “Anyway, whenever my mom was sick of me or needed space or when her relationships fell apart, we came here. Dixie was practically my aunt, but she was like that cool aunt who has loud parties, lets you play hooky from school, and listens as you pour out your secrets, then tells you exactly what you need to hear.”

  A mixture of yearning and longing tightened my lungs. I remembered learning to bake in the kitchen upstairs while we blasted music, even though with Dixie, it was like the blind leading the blind. Funny enough, she was also who taught me to mix drinks, and she was a master at those.

  “She and my mom had a falling out,” I said, “and honestly, if my mom finds out that I’ve so much as stepped foot in this house, much less committed to fixing it up…” I shuddered at the thought. Mom was a master of using guilt and a sense of betrayal as weapons, and despite being aware of that, they still pierced the armor I wore around her, every single time. It was one of the reasons I hadn’t kept in touch with Dixie—and even Rhett—like I wanted to. “I’m not sure she’d ever forgive me.”

  I looked up to find Jackson’s eyes on me. It threw my senses out of whack, but then they immediately calmed, making it easier to continue. “But when I found out Dixie was selling the place, I just wanted to give it a proper good-bye and for it to be the house I loved instead of a rundown shack someone snagged for a steal. After everything she helped me with through the years, I also hoped I could make Dixie some extra money in the process.”

  Jackson blinked down at me, his expression unreadable in the dim light. Not that light would help much, because after everything went down, he always had his poker face on standby. Not that I blamed him. I deserved to be locked out.

  I ran a hand through my hair, breaking eye contact so I wouldn’t start thinking about that too much. “Before I come out sounding all magnanimous, I also wanted something that was mine. These days, I’m looking for something a little more fulfilling than bar tending. In my professional life,” I quickly added, not leaving any room for him to go thinking that I’d change my mind about my personal life.

  At this point, he probably wouldn’t even care or give me another chance at…well, at more. Especially if he was still dating that super cute, bubbly girl he’d brought to Savannah and Linc’s engagement party.

  I was sick of telling myself it was for the best—I sounded like a stuck record—but it didn’t make it less true.

  The scuff of his shoes and press of his hand on my hip meant he’d stepped closer, but I didn’t dare look into his face. It felt like my thoughts were written across mine, and dark or not, I was afraid he’d see them plain as day. Yet another reason that he was more dangerous than most guys.

  “I get that,” he said. “Wanting to do something bigger. Wanting to say good-bye to a place that meant something to you. You know that this is an impossibly huge job for one person, right?”

  I shrugged. “I guess I thought that it might be for most people but that I was different from most people.”

  His low laugh stirred my hair. “You are definitely different from most people. What I’m saying is that needing help doesn’t mean you were wrong about being good at this. You’ve got great ideas and enough stubborn to fuel a job this big, for sure.” He nudged me with his elbow, a grin curving his lips. “We’ll get everything fixed up the way you envision it, and I guarantee the house will sell for a lot more once we’re finished.”

  My heart quickened at the we’ll and the we’re, half excitement, half fear. “Yesterday I realized I was in way over my head. I told myself it’d all be okay after our meeting, but today it feels like I’ve bitten off more than I can chew again. Plus, I’m starting to freak out about still being down in the possibly-spider-infested basement. How am I supposed to do it all, especially when there are two areas of the house that I’m afraid of?”

  “That’s why I’m here.” He straightened and thumped a fist against his chest like the gorilla I’d accused him of being. “I fear nothing.”

  I laughed.

  “Come on, let’s get upstairs.”

  “Oh, thank goodness.” Past playing it cool, I rushed upstairs, taking a big breath once I hit the landing. From this spot, I could see the mess of the kitchen to my left and the deconstructed living room to my right, and the exhaustion hit me, all at once.

  “Did I ever tell you about my first job after breaking out on my own?” Jackson asked from behind me, placing his hands on my shoulders.

  I shook my head and fought the irrational urge to lean back into his embrace—my body always managed to forget he was my bitter rival, which only proved doing this renovation together wasn’t my brightest idea ever. But you know, beggars couldn’t be choosers and all that.

  Except a tiny part of me knew I’d choose him over a hundred other contractors, every time.

  “Total disaster,” he said. “Everything that could go wrong did. Permits, faulty wiring. The wrong order of lumber delivered. Since you can’t exactly build a house without the framework, it set us an extra two weeks behind schedule. The clients were so pissed, and of course when fingers got pointed, they got pointed at me. One night after an especially hard day, I decided that starting my own business was the stupidest thing I’d ever done.”

  I spun around to face him. “So you’re saying this project isn’t the biggest disaster ever?”

  “I…wouldn’t go that far.” He shot me a teasing grin. “I’m saying that job didn’t mean I wasn’t good at building houses. I’m the best contractor out there—”

  “And so humble, too.”

  “Right?” He reached up and braced his hands on the top of the doorframe, the muscles in his arms flexing in the most hypnotic way. “But there’s a part of every single
job that goes wrong. You’re just getting your bumps out at the beginning.”

  “I’d say thanks, but I don’t want to see the shock on your face and have to shove you down the stairs. You’d be no good to me with a broken leg.”

  “I want to say you’d be surprised what I can do without use of one leg, but I’m afraid you’d take it as a challenge.” He stepped into the small hallway, closing the door behind him and holding it shut, like that’d keep him safe from me.

  Right now, with the way he was staring at me, a cocky slant to lips that had traveled over most of the curves of my body, I was thinking I needed a door to hide behind so I’d be safe. One minute he was pranking me and we were tossing insults back and forth, and the next he was trying to reassure me and throwing out innuendos. The guy was an enigma wrapped in an eye-candy package, and if I wasn’t careful, I’d slip and forget all about my carefully structured broken-heart prevention plan.

  Chapter Seven

  A meow accompanied the black cat who slowly came around the corner, dodging bags of trash and debris.

  “There you are,” I said, dropping the scraper-thing-a-ma-bobber I’d been using to remove baseboards.

  Jackson stopped the hammering I may have been watching a little too closely this afternoon, thanks to the way it brought out the muscles in his back and arms, and looked over his shoulder. His eyebrows drew together. “You have a cat?”

  “Don’t sound so surprised. I mean, technically she’s not mine, but she seems to have come with the house, and I’m considering her mine for right now, so you can hold back your commitment jab.”

  “I’m not going near that giant landmine. I prefer my guts inside my body, and since the reason I’m so surprised has to do with you not being the particularly nurturing type, I have no doubt you’d let me bleed out if I set it off.”

  “‘Holding back’ means not saying things like that, FYI. We’ve really got to work on your vocabulary.”

  “Sorry, can’t hear whatever you’re rattlin’ on about over the sound of how hard I’m working,” he said as he resumed his hammering on the archway that connected the living room to the dining room. It used to be a narrow, stubby archway but he’d widened and heightened it, and it opened up the entire space and made it look a lot bigger. If he could go more than an hour without saying something insulting, I might even tell him how much I liked it.