By Friday, all anticipation Norah might have felt about getting together with her new friends to paint her apartment had disappeared. In fact, she was convinced that her apartment was the worst idea she’d ever had. She didn’t mind painting. It wasn’t her favorite thing to do, but she’d done it before– quite a few times in dinky little apartments when John was in grad school– and she was reasonably good at it, maybe not an expert but certainly competent. If only she could figure out how much damn paint she needed... It was ridiculous that a simple math problem would be her downfall. She understood the logic of it: measure the walls, add the measurements together, and calculate how much is needed for the total area. It seemed easy enough, but the calculations were anything but. Numbers were not her thing. They never had been. It was like trying to deal in a foreign language where she didn’t know the alphabet. She tried again, jotting down measurements she had taken last night and trying to calculate the square footage. Something went wrong somewhere in the middle, and she ended up throwing the pencil down in frustration, crumpling the paper into a ball, and lobbing it in the direction of the cardboard box she has been using as a makeshift wastebasket. It bounced off the edge and landed on the floor amongst several others she has tossed in that direction previously. Norah growled in frustration.
“Hey, what’s that all about?” Caine asked, pausing on his way out the back entrance.
Norah waved him off. “It’s nothing.”
“It doesn’t seem like nothing,” Caine said. “What’s bothering you?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Norah told him.
Caine went on as though she hadn’t spoken. “Can I help?”
The hell of it was he probably could. Given what he did for a living, he could probably do these calculations practically in his sleep, but she couldn’t let him. If she admitted that she couldn’t do it, she’d never live it down. She was a college educated adult. She should be able to do a simple calculation that she probably should’ve learned how to do in grade school. If she told him the truth, she would look like an idiot. John had teased her mercilessly about it. It had all been done in good fun, but he had never let her live it down in all the years they had been married. Caine, who used such calculations on a daily basis, would probably find her struggle even more laughable.
“What are you trying to work out?” he asked, picking up one of her discarded papers and smoothing it out so he could study it. “I can give you the measurements for every wall down here if that’s what you’re working on.”
Norah shook her head. “It’s not down here.”
“Your apartment then? That’s not a problem either. If you’ll go up with me, I can have this worked out in a few minutes.”
Norah sighed and gave it up to the inevitable. She turned without a word and headed up the stairs. Caine followed. “So what are you working on?” he asked when they stepped into her apartment. “Painting?”
“Yes,” Norah replied. “I want to add some color up here. Abby is taking me to the paint store this afternoon to pick out colors, but I need to know how much I need for each room. I know it should be simple, but numbers hate me. They don’t work for me the same as they do most people.”
Caine shrugged. “Good thing you’ve got me then,” he said lightly without the slightest trace of concern. He handed her the small notebook and pencil he habitually carried in his pocket. “I’ll call the measurements out to you. Jot them down for me, okay?”
“I have the measurements,” she protested, taking the pencil and paper he handed her nonetheless. “I took them last night.”
“No offense but I prefer to take my own,” he told her, pulling out his tape measure and spreading it across the wall behind the sofa.
Given the luck she had been having with numbers today, Norah couldn’t muster the energy to be offended. Resigned, she flipped the little memo pad open to a clean page took up the pencil, and it was a pencil, not a pen, the old-fashioned yellow kind she remembered writing with in grade school. It was still warm from being in his pocket, tucked against the warmth of his body. That sent a wave of awareness through her, making her shift self-consciously. Don’t go there. Not only did he work for her, but he wasn’t a spanko. Either of the two was reason enough to leave him well enough alone; both were the equivalent of a giant do not enter sign. She rocked back on her heels. Keep it professional. There’s no place here for anything else. Keep. It. Professional.
She was so caught up in her own thoughts that she nearly missed the first measurements Caine called out to her. Startled, she jotted them down quickly and read them back to be sure she had written them correctly. Caine didn’t seem to find anything strange about that either. He simply nodded and moved on to the next wall. She followed them dutifully around the room, making notations when he called them out. When they had finished the living room, he took the pad out of her hands and quickly totaled up the numbers, making note of both the total square footage and the amount he estimated it would take before handing it back. Their fingers touched briefly in the handoff, a butterfly light brush that could barely be called a touch, but it set her fingers tingling like a jolt of static electricity. She drew back carefully, resisting the need to rub her fingers over her jeans just to soothe the residual sensation. Not that she really wanted it to go away. In fact, she was just as tempted to curl her fingers around it and hold on to it except that it was damn distracting. If a casual touch would do that, what would a longer, deliberate touch do? The thought alone had her body coming to the attention. She batted the thought away irritably. It might be a pleasant fantasy, but she couldn’t afford to indulge it. Parking that thought firmly in the forefront of her mind, she wrenched her attention back to the task and resumed following him around and making notes.
They worked their way through the rest of the house in similar fashion. Caine was figuring up the calculations for the final room when Abby called, “Norah, are you here?”
Norah jumped as though she’d been shot, backing quickly away from Caine. She took a moment to breathe deeply and calm her racing heart before opening the door and calling back, “I’m upstairs. I’ll be down in a minute.” She had hoped that would convince Abby to stay on the first floor and avoid awkward questions, but a moment later it became apparent that was not the case when she heard Abby racing up the stairs, from the sounds of things taking them two at the time.
Caine tore the pages they had been working on out of his notebook and handed them to her. “Thank you,” she said, folding them and tucking them into her purse. “I really appreciate your help.”
“It’s no problem,” Caine replied. “I don’t mind. You should have told me earlier. I could’ve saved you all that frowning.” He reached out as though meaning to trace where the frown lines had been on her forehead, but stopped just before he actually touched her. His fingers hovered momentarily in the air. Then, he swallowed hard and shoved his hand back into his pocket. Norah shifted, wanting to say something to break the spell that seemed to have developed between them in that moment, but the words refused to form.
Abby chose that moment to come bursting through the door. “Hey, Norah—” she broke off abruptly and did a double take, looking slowly back and forth between Norah and Caine.
Norah jolted into action. “Hi, Abby,” she said. “I’m ready, just let me grab my purse.” She turned on her heel and hurried into the living where her purse was waiting on the sofa.
“I’ll let you be on your way,” Caine said edging past Abby and out the door.
Abby, to her credit, managed not to ask any questions until they were settled in the car and pulling out of the parking lot, though it was patently obvious she was bursting with them. “Okay, what was that about?” she asked as they pulled onto Spanking Loop and headed toward the entrance.
“What was what about?” Norah replied. “I don’t know what you talking about.”
“Oh, yes you do,” Abby countered. “Did I interrupt something?”
“Not at all,�
� Norah said calmly. “Caine was just helping me figure out how much paint we needed for each room, and we were done when you came in.”
“Sure he was,” Abby said, rolling her eyes. “That’s why the energy back there was crackling like a lightning storm. You were having a riveting conversation about paint.”
“We were,” Norah insisted. “I don’t know what you think you saw, but that really was all it was. I’m horrible with math, and he offered to help me figure it out.”
“Uh huh.” Abby clearly wasn’t convinced. “Say what you want, but all I know is it was definitely getting hot in there.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Norah said, blowing out a breath in an exasperated huff. “Caine and I have a professional relationship and that is all.”
“Maybe so,” Abby conceded, “but you’d like it to be more.”
Norah fixed her eyes determinedly on the road ahead. “What I would or wouldn’t like is of no consequence. It is what it is.”
“Yes, but there’s nothing saying it has to stay that way,” Abby argued.
“On the contrary, there are quite a few reasons we need to keep things strictly professional,” Norah told her. “Mixing business and pleasure is never a good idea.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. I met Harris when he came into the shop as the customer, and that seems to have worked out pretty well.”
Even without looking around, Norah could hear the smile in her voice. “I’m really glad that worked out for you, but that’s a road I do not need to go down.”
“Why not? You’re single. He’s single. What’s the problem?” Abby questioned.
It was more like what wasn’t the problem. They were working together. That alone brought a whole host of complications, but most of all, he wasn’t an HOH. No matter how attractive he might be. That was a deal breaker. She’d had quite enough of trying to deny her need for this lifestyle. She was done with that. She was never going back there again, no matter how hot he might be.
“It’s complicated,” she said finally.
“I don’t see what’s so complicated about it,” Abby persisted. “You two clearly have feelings for each other. A blind man could see that. You’re both single. Why make it more complicated than that?”
“Because it is more complicated than that,” Norah said. “That’s a gross oversimplification. As much as I wish it could be that simple, it’s just not. Now, can we please talk about something else?”
“Of course,” Abby said easily. “What colors are you thinking about?”
Norah breathed a sigh of relief, and she felt a tension she hadn’t even been aware of drop out of her muscles. “I’m thinking of painting my bedroom a light gray,” she said.
They spent the rest of the afternoon sticking firmly to safe neutral topics, mostly what Norah wanted to do with her apartment and her plans for the bookstore. Abby also took the opportunity to fill her in on the latest Corbin’s Bend gossip. Like any close community, the gossip lines in Corbin’s Bend ran rampant. That much Norah had learned quickly. She mostly tried to stay out of it, but Quincy seemed to thrive on it, and Abby had apparently picked up the habit.
The paint store was fun, if a little overwhelming. Norah loved looking at all the colors, but having so many choices was difficult. It was hard to know if she was choosing the right thing. Sometimes the sheer amount of choices was almost paralyzing. Thankfully, the salesperson was extremely helpful in guiding her toward what she was looking for and helping her narrow her choices. In the end, she was pleased with what she chose, calm soothing colors that would brighten up her home without being overpowering.
“It’s going to look great,” Abby told her. They were gathering up all the tools and accessories they needed for painting while they waited on the salesperson to mix the paint. There was a lot to remember – brushes, rollers, pans, drop cloths, plastic covers for the furniture.
“I hope so,” Norah said. Now that she had made her choices and the stressful part was over, she found herself growing increasingly excited. She didn’t particularly enjoy painting, but she was looking forward to tonight. She hadn’t had a group of girlfriends to hang out with in a long time. It was a nice to have that again.
They picked up pizza on their way back, and Abby called Quincy and Dina to let them know they were on their way back and to meet them at the store. “Dina says she’s bringing wine,” Abby said when she hung up the phone, grinning. “We can’t have a girls’ night without wine.”
Norah laughed. “Of course not.” Hopefully adding alcohol into the mix wouldn’t have a detrimental effect on the walls getting painted, but at the moment, she wasn’t even sure she cared. This was going to be fun.
Dina and Quincy were waiting for them when they returned. “I’ve got wine,” Dina said when they got out of the car.
“And I’ve got chocolate,” Quincy added, nodding at the bakery box from Ange’s she was carrying.
“Perfect,” Norah said, reaching into her purse for her keys. “Let me unlock the door and get everything inside.”
To her surprise, the door opened before she could even get her key in the lock. Caine held it open and gestured them inside.
“I didn’t think you would still be here by now,” Norah said, surprised. It was early evening, an hour or so past the time when he usually left.
Caine shrugged. “I thought you might need help with the paint.”
“Why thank you,” Quincy piped up before Norah could think of anything to say. “That’s very gentlemanly of you.”
Vivid red color spread over Caine’s face. Though it could have technically been called blushing, that didn’t even begin to describe the part-pleased, part-embarrassed, sheepish look that crossed his face. He looked like nothing so much as a small boy who’d been praised by a favorite teacher. It should’ve been completely incongruous. It was utterly adorable.
“It’s nothing,” he muttered under his breath.
“Just let us put these things down and we can get the paint out of the car,” Norah said.
“I can do it,” Caine said. “I don’t mind. Just unlock the doors for me.”
Norah blinked at him blankly for second before her brain kicked in. Of course... She had a remote. She could unlock the doors from in here. She fumbled with the keys she was still holding until she found the appropriate button. There was an answering pair of beeps from her car as the door locks disengaged. “Thank you,” she said as an afterthought, finally remembering to show some common courtesy. What was that about that man that made her brain just shut down?
Caine gave her a brief salute, touching two fingers to his forehead before striding out in the direction of her car.
By the time they had the food and wine put out upstairs, Caine was back, carrying four gallons of paint. “Where do you want these?” he asked.
“Just stack them by the door in the living room,” Norah said. She opened her mouth to tell him it could wait and to come get pizza while it was hot, but before she could say anything he was gone. He made two more trips, each as fast and efficient as the first, never stopping to socialize or even to hear Norah’s attempts to invite him to come eat. Finally, after the third trip, he stopped and looked around, as if unsure what to do now.
“Come and get some food,” Quincy called out when he paused. “After all that work, you’ve earned it.”
Caine opened his mouth like he was about to argue, but after a moment, closed it again and came to join them where they were gathered around the kitchen table.
“What can I get you to drink?” Norah asked as Abby handed him a paper plate and Quincy nudged the pizza box in his direction. “There’s wine obviously,” she gestured in the direction of the wine glasses scattered over the table in various stages of emptiness, “but I also have water, soda, juice and beer if you’d prefer.”
“I’ll take a beer if you’ve got one,” Caine said.
Ironically, Norah had just picked up the beer earlier this morning. She wasn’t much of a
beer drinker, preferring wine, but there was something about pizza and beer that just seemed to go together in her mind. Of course, that could be just a sign she had spent way too much time on college campuses. She got a beer from the refrigerator and handed it to Caine, biting her lip when their fingers brushed again and the touch was every bit as electric as it had been earlier. He murmured a quiet thank you, opening it and downing a long swallow. Norah’s eyes were riveted for a moment on the sight of his throat working, and she had to force herself to look away and join in on the conversation swirling around her.
When it eventually became clear that everyone was finished and was mostly just chatting, Dina spoke up, “We had better clear up and get busy if we’re going to get any actual painting done tonight.” With that, everyone started clearing up the remains of the meal and discussing what the next steps should be to get started.
“I could help, if you like,” Caine volunteered. “I don’t mind sticking around.”
“Thank you,” Norah began.
“We’d be glad to have your help,” Quincy broke in. “It’s always useful to have a big, strong man around.” Caine flashed a small smile and quickly turned away to deposit the remnants of his dinner in the garbage can. From the corner of her eye, Norah noticed that the tips of his ears had turned pink. She couldn’t blame him. Could Quincy have been any more obvious?
“What are you thinking?” Norah hissed, leaning across the table to Quincy and pitching her voice low enough to be out of Caine’s earshot. “I thought this was supposed to be a girl’s night.”
“I’m thinking I’m too old to be climbing ladders and painting ceilings,” Quincy said bluntly. “We can still have a girls’ night, but this way we’ll also have help.”
“If you thought we needed help, why didn’t you say so?” Norah demanded. “I’m sure we could have recruited some of the other men to come help.” Anybody would have been better. At the very least, it would be easier to ignore him in a crowd. With him being the only man around, it was almost a guarantee that he would be on her mind all night. She’d be lucky if she didn’t end up painting the mirror or something equally crazy with that kind of distraction around. She could have cheerfully choked Quincy. It was too late to do anything about it now though. She couldn’t rescind Quincy’s invitation without looking like a total bitch. There was nothing to do but make the best of it. Squaring her shoulders, she tossed back the last of her wine and poured herself another glass before beginning to clear the table. She had been looking forward to tonight, and damned if she was going to lose that just because he was here. She was going to have a good time with her girlfriends, and she wasn’t going to let him make her feel self-conscious.
Corbin's Bend Homecoming Page 6