It took a while to get everything ready to paint, moving furniture, covering what she couldn’t move, laying down drop cloths. By the time that was all done, Norah had to admit, at least to herself, that she was glad Caine was there. She had no doubt that the four of them could have managed without him, but it would’ve been much more difficult and likely taken twice as long.
The walls were all currently a basic white, the same standard that had been used in every apartment she had ever lived in. Caine told her earlier this afternoon that he thought they would take a new color okay without worrying too much about adding yet another layer of primer since there was no real color to show through, but just to be on the safe side Norah had decided to go ahead and buy the paint with primer added in so they could start painting right away. “I think it will go faster if we split up,” Quincy commented as they were opening paint cans and gathering materials. “Abby, Dina, and I could work in here” – she glanced around indicating the kitchen – “and you and Caine could work in the living room.”
Oh no. Norah could see where that was going a mile away, and she wasn’t going for it, not by any stretch of the imagination. “I think it’s best if we just all work together,” she replied. “You know what they say about many hands making light work.”
“I don’t know,” Quincy said skeptically. “Won’t we just be tripping all over each other if we all try to work in the same space?”
“If that happens, we’ll sort it out then,” Norah told her. She poured paint into a tray, picked up a roller, and strode into the kitchen before Quincy had time to think of any more schemes to try to get her and Caine alone.
As it turned out, it was mostly a moot point. They all worked at different paces so though they all started out in the kitchen, it wasn’t long before they spread out. Caine in particular worked faster than the rest of them. Norah was somewhat relieved at that since it meant he rather quickly wound up working somewhere other than where she was and she could relax. She was still hyperaware of his presence, no matter where in the house he happened to be. It was as though her body was somehow tuned to every movement. She heard every step, every time he climbed a ladder, every shift of his body. With four other people in the room, it should have all logically blended into the underlying cacophony, but it didn’t. Instead, it was as if everything else faded into a background muddle while she was laser focused on Caine with the intensity of a spotlight. The others were chattering all around her, but she could barely keep up. Finally, Abby burst out. “Okay, that’s it. We need music.”
“I’ll grab my radio,” Norah volunteered. Frankly, it was a relief just to get away from our conversation for a moment. She grabbed her old radio from the bottom of her closet. It wasn’t new or fancy by any means, just a circa 1990s plastic contraption with a handle and a CD player on top and two speakers on either side of the front, but it worked well enough for her purposes. “Here you go,” she said handing it to Abby.
At first, Abby looked confused. She studied the radio intently until she found a plug in labeled AUX. Then, she smiled, an indulgent, aren’t-you-quaint smile and said, “Great, let me just grab my connector out of my car. Be right back.” She disappeared down the stairs before Norah could ask what she meant, returning a moment later with some sort of cable which she used to connect her phone to the radio. “80s rock okay with everyone?” she asked. Getting no arguments, she fiddled with the phone for moment before the deep thrumming notes of a power ballad filled the room.
Norah pushed back a wave of embarrassment that threatened to swallow her. What must the others think? She looked so old-fashioned and out of touch. Even her radio went out with the dark ages. To her eternal gratitude, they were all too gracious to point that out. Abby was swaying with the music. Diana wasn’t dancing but was humming along. Quincy, who had initially looked amused at Abby’s choice of music, had quickly gotten into the swing of things, dancing a little jig of her own, even spinning around with her paintbrush. Still, the embarrassment nagged at her. To cover it, she poured herself another glass of wine and downed it, though the two glasses she had already had really should have been her limit. Then, despite being already quite buzzed, she poured another and took it with her, nursing it while she painted.
The alcohol probably didn’t do much for her painting abilities, but it successfully dissolved the uncomfortable knot in her stomach, leaving her feeling flushed and giddy. The kitchen was done now, and they were working on the living room. Caine had already painted all of the upper areas where they couldn’t easily reach but had left the bottom for them while he moved on into the bathroom. She and Quincy were painting the lower half of the long wall that joined with the kitchen while Dina and Abby worked on the opposite wall. Suddenly, Quincy did a whirling dance move that accidentally threw paint all over Norah. Norah just grinned then dipped her brush into the paint and flung it at Quincy, splattering paint all over the front of her shirt. From there, it didn’t take long for matters to devolve into a full-fledged, all-out paint fight that had them all running and squealing and giggling like children.
“What the—” Caine demanded, coming in from the other room.
Norah, still hyper-tuned to him, was vaguely aware of his presence even through the vague haze of alcohol induced euphoria, but she was too caught up in the commotion to care.
“Ladies, that’s enough.”
Norah heard him, but she didn’t stop. Neither did anyone else. Suddenly, a sharp, piercingly loud whistle ripped through the room. Every one of them froze on the spot.
“I said that’s enough,” Caine said. It was far too calm and casual to even approach the level of the command, but it was all the more riveting for its quiet. Dina, Quincy, and Abby moved on the word, scurrying to wash up and clean up the mess.
Norah found herself unable to move, looking around at the others blankly. She should know what to do, but for some reason she didn’t understand, her brain simply refused to compute. Eventually, Caine seemed to realize this. He crossed the room and took her dripping paintbrush from her hand, setting it in a nearby tray, and turned her in the direction of the kitchen. “Go wash up,” he told her quietly. That, finally, seemed to activate some switch inside her brain. Her brain and her body seemed to get back on track with one another, and she could move again. “Yes, sir,” she said softly, automatically, and disappeared into the kitchen.
Chapter 4
Yes, sir. It wasn’t all that uncommon a phrase. Caine himself had grown up using it routinely with nearly every adult male of his acquaintance just like every other child he had known. It was commonplace in the South, considered basic politeness, and south Louisiana was no different. That hadn’t really changed during his brief stint in the Air Force. There, too, it was a part of the culture, an expected part of day-to-day interactions. Even now, he still used it as basic courtesy with clients He’d never thought much of it. Why then did Norah saying it to him feel so different?
Caine pondered that as he drove through Corbin’s Bend to meet Benjamin at the base of one of the numerous hiking trails that ran through the area. The weekend had dawned bright and sunny but significantly cooler, as if it had suddenly occurred to Mother Nature that it was nearing mid-September and by rights should now be much cooler than it had been in the past few weeks. It was perfect hiking weather, and the trail they had chosen for today was one of their favorites, strenuous enough to be a bit of a challenge and yet not enough to be really grueling.
Benjamin waved as Caine got out of his truck and shrugged into his pack, automatically tightening and adjusting the straps with the ease of long practice. Even so, he noted that it was a bit more difficult to do this morning than normal. His arms and shoulders were stiff and sore. Still, staying active and working out the soreness would probably be the best thing for them. He threw up a hand to Benjamin in return, moving to the back of the truck to release Maverick. The dog jumped eagerly out of the truck and bolted over to Benjamin. Caine collected Mav’s leash and collapsible wate
r dish from a storage box in the back of the truck before following. Ben was kneeling on the ground wrestling playfully with Maverick. Caine tucked Mav’s water dish into a pocket of his pack, watching them. He wasn’t at all sure who with having more fun, Ben or Mav. They both appeared to be thoroughly enjoying themselves. Those two had gotten on like a house afire from day one. In fact, Mav was the reason Caine had met Benjamin in the first place.
Not long after he had first started taking contract jobs in Corbin’s Bend, he had been playing with Mav in the dog park one afternoon, taking advantage of the opportunity to get some energy out before they packed up for the long ride back to Denver. He’d been tossing a battered old Frisbee around for Mav to fetch. One of his throws went wild and sailed over the fence and onto the sidewalk. Benjamin had been walking by at the time and stopped to pick it up and return it, and the rest, as the old saying went, was history. Caine had very few close friends in his lifetime, but Benjamin, much like Jerry, had quickly become an exception. It was one of life’s mysteries how he had connected so quickly with these two men, but it was a mystery for which he was very grateful.
After a moment, Ben got back to his feet, brushing off his hands and knees. Caine called Mav over, clipped on his leash, and tied the end securely through a belt loop on his shorts, leaving his hands free.
“Ready?” Benjamin asked. Caine nodded and they set out on the trail. The first section of the trail was easy. It was relatively flat, winding slowly and gradually into steeper, rockier terrain. Both men had climbed it many times before and handled it easily. They talked in fits and spurts as they walked along, covering everything and nothing, and dropping into intermittent periods of easy silence.
In those intermittent moments, his mind inevitably drifted back to Norah and the night before. Why had she said that to him, and more importantly why had it affected him the way it had? Yes sir wasn’t particularly provocative, or at least it never had been before. It should have drifted through like background noise. After all, she was so drunk she probably didn’t even remember what she was saying. Okay, so she wasn’t completely drunk, but she was definitely tipsy. But why would she say that to him at all? If anything it should be the other way around, he was her employee. He should be the one saying yes ma’am and no ma’am to her, but she had never given any indication that she wanted that kind of formality. They had always been more like colleagues than employer and employee.
More than that, why would it go through him like lightning? It had never affected him like that before, but when Norah said it, it was like his whole body stood at attention. What the hell was that about? If anything, it should have made him uncomfortable, but it didn’t. That was the most confusing part of it. He liked it.
That’s the part that haunted him, that he had been twisting over all night long. He liked it.
He had hoped that this hike would provide him a distraction from these uncomfortable thoughts that continued to dog him, but instead, it seemed like all it was doing was giving him more time to think about it—as if he really needed more time to think about it. It was all he’d been thinking about since last night, and as if that wasn’t enough, his pack began to feel heavier and heavier. Instead of the movement working the soreness out of his muscles, the more he carried the pack, the slight soreness began to give way to very sore proceeding rapidly to his arms feeling like concrete. He paused and shifted every few minutes in hopes of getting the pack into a more comfortable position, but no matter what he tried, nothing was comfortable for more than a few minutes. Eventually he realized that he was lagging further and further behind Ben.
It wasn’t long before Ben noticed too. “You okay back there, old man?” he teased. “You’re moving a little slow this morning.”
“I’d watch who you’re calling old,” Caine shot back. “You’re older than me, remember? So I may be old, but you are even older.”
“I’m not the one walking like the tin man,” Benjamin replied. “Maybe we should have remembered to oil up your joints first.”
At the moment, that didn’t seem like a terribly bad idea. His shoulders were killing him, and his knees weren’t particularly happy either. When he finally caught up, Benjamin looked him over with a practiced eye.
“I’m fine,” Caine insisted before Benjamin could make any sort of dire announcement. “I just overdid it last night.”
Benjamin grinned, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. “And just what were you doing last night to get so sore?”
“Not what you’re thinking,” Caine told him. “Get your mind out of the gutter, pervert.”
“What’s the fun in that?” Ben asked.
Caine shot him a withering work and gave him the finger.
Ben laughed. “Okay, okay so if you didn’t get sore having that kind of fun, what happened?”
“Nothing interesting,” Caine said, “just painting.”
“Work?” Ben snagged a stick from the side of the path and gave it to Maverick, who picked it up and carried it with an air that suggested he had just been given a very important job.
“Not exactly,” Caine said. They were reaching the more difficult part of the trail now, and he was having to navigate slowly and carefully.
“Then what exactly?” Benjamin asked.
“I wasn’t technically working,” Caine explained, following carefully in Ben’s footsteps as the trail wound upward and became increasingly rocky. Along this stretch, one misstep could result in a badly sprained or broken ankle. He waited until he was certain he was stable to continue. “Norah and a couple of other ladies were painting her apartment and I offered to help.”
Benjamin twisted around and raised an eyebrow at him. “You did? I thought you usually subcontracted painters for the stuff you do.”
“I do, professionally,” Caine agreed. “It’s far quicker and more efficient, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to paint. I did it for years before I got my contracting license.”
“Still,” Ben went on. “You must really like this lady if you’re volunteering to do something like that.”
“What’s not to like? She’s sweet and really easy to work for so no, I don’t mind helping out when I can,” Caine replied.
“You sure that’s all it is?” Ben pressed. “I’ve never known you to voluntarily spend time with clients after hours, even when you were doing Ange’s display cases, and I know you like Jim and Ange.”
That was true, but Ange didn’t need him in the same way. She had Jim if she needed help with things. Most anything he could do, Jim could do just as well. Norah didn’t have anyone like that. “Ange didn’t need my help,” he told Ben. “Norah does.”
“I thought you said there were several other women helping her,” Ben countered.
“There were, but they still needed help,” Caine insisted. “All I did was the parts they couldn’t reach.”
“And here I thought that was what they made ladders for,” Ben said dryly.
“It was easier to just do it myself,” Caine said. “Then I didn’t have to worry about anyone falling off a ladder. If I have left them to it, I would have worried about that all night. It was simpler just to save myself the trouble.”
“If you say so...” Ben said skeptically.
“There’s nothing to it,” Caine insisted. “I was just trying to be helpful.”
“Of course you were,” Ben agreed, though his tone made it clear he didn’t believe a word of it.
“That’s all it was,” Caine said. “Geez, what is it with you and Jerry? Both of you are dead set on making something out of nothing. He’s still in that newlywed haze where he thinks marriage is the solution to everyone’s problems, but you and Jonathon have been together for years. What’s your excuse?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Ben said breezily. “What did Jerry say?”
“Nothing,” Caine told him. “It’s not important.”
“You’re the one who brought it up,” Ben pointed out. “What did
he say?”
Caine sighed, digging a bottle of water out of his pack and drinking deeply. “Nothing really,” Caine said, closing the bottle and putting it back. “He just tried to make something out of me offering to wait with Norah for the movers when she first moved in, and I’ll tell you the same thing I told him. I was just trying to help. She was alone in a brand-new community where she knew nobody. I was just trying to make sure she was okay.”
“It sounds like you’re going out of your way for her an awful lot,” Benjamin commented.
Caine shrugged. “It’s nothing much. I would do the same for you or Jerry or Jim.” He would do the same for anyone who needed him really. It was just basic human decency. That was all.
“I know you would,” Ben assured him. “It’s just that you usually don’t take to new people easily, and you seem to have gotten pretty protective of this woman pretty quickly.”
“You and I connected right off the bat too,” Caine reminded him. At the same time, he knew Ben was right. With a few very notable exceptions, Ben being one of them, he wasn’t the type who made friends quickly or easily. That was another one of Ruben’s unfortunate legacies. Trusting people didn’t come easily. He wasn’t sure himself why he was drawn to Norah the way he was. Somehow, from the first moment he laid eyes on her, she brought out every protective instinct he possessed. He couldn’t remember being this protective of anyone since his grandmother died, and yes, he found Norah very attractive. He couldn’t deny that, but this was different. He’d picked up plenty of very attractive women in his time. A few of them, in his younger days, he had even been so head over heels for that he could barely keep his hands off of them. This was different. In fact, it was nothing like that all.
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