by Lila Kane
I shrug. Not a lot. But he doesn’t know much about me either.
“I’m trusting my gut,” I tell her.
“Damn. Yes. Now that I look closer, he really does look familiar. Where’d he live before this?”
“With his girlfriend,” I tell her. “But they broke up. He used to work with someone else, too, fixing up houses.”
“Oh. Maybe that’s where I’ve seen him.” She nods. “Probably around town working on some house or another.”
“Probably.”
Though now that she brought it up, I’m curious. He doesn’t talk about his past much at all, except for his mom. I wonder who he used to work with. Do they still work in town, too, and that’s why he likes to stay out here? To keep his distance?
Nope. I cut off those thoughts, too. I trust Carson and we’re working well together. No sense in questioning things—especially when I made it clear to Cheyenne that we’re not serious. We’re just enjoying ourselves.
“I should probably head out,” she says. “You know, work like a normal person.”
“Must be rough.”
She grins. “It is. I don’t get a good view like you do.”
“You should come for dinner some night. We can test out the new kitchen.”
“Really? Use those pretty appliances before you sell the place?”
I laugh. “We’ll order take-out.”
“Good girl. See you.”
I walk her to the front door and watch her get into her car, and then turn back to the house. I stand in the middle of the living room and sigh. It almost looks like a different house. Good thing I remembered to take pictures on the second day here so I can have before and after shots. Carson will probably appreciate those, too, so he can use them for prospective clients in the future.
The thought strikes me harder than I expect. Other clients. After we’re finished here, we’ll both go our own separate ways.
I rub my cheek and shake my head. Nothing to worry about now. We’re just enjoying each other, right?
I smile to myself and head toward the backyard. Might as well go enjoy him then.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CARSON
The summer is winding up. I can’t believe I’ve already been in this house for almost two months. Two months of working hard and playing hard.
It’s hard to believe I was somewhere completely different a couple months ago. Working with Kyle, handling a rocky relationship with Denise that didn’t make either of us happy.
My phone chimes from my pocket and I place my shower tile before I check it. I admire my work while I pull out the phone. This bathroom isn’t anywhere near as extravagant as the master, but it looks polished. Clean.
I peer at the screen through a layer of dust and see the notification. Mom’s birthday. Shit. Good thing I put the note in my phone. Days are blurring together here. I can’t remember if it’s Monday or Friday, and forget remembering what the date is. Libby’s good at all that stuff. She keeps the schedule.
I work, she organizes. And it’s a great compromise so far. In fact, I’m surprised it’s working so well. Me and Kyle never stayed that organized when we were working together. He was a constant procrastinator and cared more about the business end of things. I wanted to be in the house working, creating, building. Which left the planning and organizing and scheduling up in the air.
Dusting off my hands, I step out of the shower. I might as well call her now or I’ll forget again. I hear humming from the next room over where Libby’s working.
Once I finish in here, I’ll go help her. Maybe put in another hour of work before I make her quit. Before I suggest we take a shower together and spend the evening relaxing. We’ve managed to get a lot of use out of her bed, and I’m planning on more before we’re finished with the house.
But then…I sigh and press the button for my mom’s number. Then, I don’t know. Libby and I have got this thing—I’m not sure what—but I’m not ready to see it end.
My mom answers after the third ring. “Son,” she says.
“Mom,” I answer back. “Do you feel older?”
She laughs. “Younger.”
“I don’t doubt that.”
My mom is the biggest go-getter I’ve ever known. She probably gets more done by nine am than most people get done all day. Maybe that’s why I’m an early riser. And why I still believe hard work pretty much tops everything else.
“Just wanted to say happy birthday. I sent your present in the mail since it’s your year to travel.”
My mom and her sister visit every year for their birthdays. They’re twins. Even though they live in separate states, they insist on being together for their birthday. This year it’s my mom’s turn to go to see her sister.
“Please tell me you didn’t buy me tools,” she says. “I have more than enough.”
I chuckle. “No, I didn’t buy you tools. You’ll see.”
“Thanks, sweetie. How’s Denise?”
I curse under my breath. I forgot to tell her about Denise. And the job situation. Which is just another indication I’ve been so busy I haven’t thought about the real world.
“We’re not together anymore.” I don’t want to explain why, and I think she senses that because she moves on quickly.
“Is there another girl you have your eye on?”
I open my mouth to tell her about Libby, but then close it again. I don’t know what we are. I definitely have my eye on Libby, but is it more than that?
The lights flicker overhead, I hear a curse, and then a loud thud.
I cover the mouthpiece on the phone. “Libby?” When she doesn’t answer, I call her name again.
“Everything okay?” my mom asks.
I’m already running out of the bathroom, my heart racing. “I have to go.”
I shove the phone in my pocket as I round the corner. My breath catches in my lungs when I see Libby on the floor next to the ladder, which has fallen over.
I slide to my knees next to her. “Libby? Libby—”
She eases up some and I put my arm underneath her to help her up. She blinks a few times at my face. “The light.”
I glance up at the lightbulb and see an exposed wire. “What happened?” I ask. “Are you hurt?”
“It’s…” She clutches her left wrist with her right hand and winces. “Just my wrist and…”
Shit. She must have hit her head or knocked herself out briefly. Had she shocked herself?
I grip her chin and turn her to face me, studying her eyes, trying to get her to focus. “Libby, look at me.”
Her eyes meet mine.
“Are you okay? Did you hit your head?”
“When I fell off the ladder.”
“Off the ladder?”
She grimaces and nods.
“I’m calling an ambulance.” I pull out my phone but she catches my hand.
“No, I’m fine.”
“You just fell off a ladder, Libby.” And she can’t seem to focus.
“Wait. Hold on.”
“Libby—”
“Really.” She nods slowly. “Just give me…a minute.”
Damn it. I don’t want to give her a minute. I want to whisk her to the hospital to make sure she’s okay. When I saw her laying on the floor, it felt like someone squeezed my heart with some pliers. If Libby got hurt, I…
I don’t even want to think about it. I didn’t realize how much she meant to me until now, and the only thing I want to think about is making sure she’s not hurt.
“Can you stand?” I ask, ordering myself to focus. I need to assess what happened.
She nods, but I can tell it hurts her by the expression on her face. I wrap my arm around her when she sways a little.
“Libby—”
“No, it’s fine. I hit my head, but—”
“It’s not fine.” I touch her shoulders gently. “Tell me exactly what happened.”
“I was trying to change the lightbulb and I touched the wire accidental
ly. It—it shocked me and I fell.”
“Damn it—you could have a concussion. You could be really hurt.”
“Please don’t yell at me. I didn’t mean to.”
“I’m not—” I break off and take a deep breath. “I’m not yelling. I’m worried. You hit your head. Anything else? Your wrist?”
“I fell on it. It’s not broken.”
“You sure?”
She wiggles it gently. “Pretty sure.”
I put my arm around her again. “Humor me, okay? Let’s at least go to urgent care.”
“I really don’t need…” She swallows when she sees my face. “Okay. Let’s go.”
“Good.”
I stick next to her side to make sure she’s safe going down the stairs, and then I drive her to the urgent care facility on the edge of town. There are only a few other cars in the parking lot when we get there, and we go straight for the desk to check in. They’re quick as they take us down the hall, but when we round the corner, I freeze.
There’s someone heading out of one of the rooms. Someone I never wanted to see again.
Kyle. He starts walking my way when he sees me, already looking angry.
Fortunately, Libby doesn’t see him. When they usher her to a bed, I lie and say I have to use the restroom, and then make a beeline for Kyle to stop him from getting anywhere near her.
I’m not sure if he saw her or even remembers her, but I’m hoping neither.
“What a coincidence,” Kyle says.
I take a few more steps down the hallway so we’re not overheard. “What are you doing here?”
“What are you doing here?” he asks.
“I’m with a friend.”
“I’m with an employee,” he says, gesturing. “Just a little cut. A few stitches. You never got back to me.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Yeah, so have I, which is why I called you in the first place. What? You too good for this business now?”
I cross my arms. “No, I’ve got my own projects.”
“Ah.” Kyle’s lips curve slightly. “So it’s a competition now?”
“It’s not anything. You’ve got your life, and I’ve got mine. You got what you wanted so I don’t know what your problem is.”
“You’re right,” Kyle says. “I did get what I wanted.”
I resist the urge to punch him. What the hell is this? I thought I knew Kyle—thought we were friends. But I should have read the signs more closely.
“And you know you’re making a mistake,” Kyle continues. “You know I’ve got this town in my pocket. If you want work, I’m where to find it.”
“I’m not making a mistake,” I tell him. “I’m right where I want to be.”
“Yeah, well…” He grins and turns. “When you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
He walks away, and I flip him off. No way. I don’t need Kyle. I’ve got a job, and I’ve even got a woman.
A woman who needs me now.
I try to forget about Kyle so I can take care of Libby.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
LIBBY
The doctor makes me tell him what happened and then insists on taking x-rays of my arm.
I’m sure nothing’s broken, and even though I have a massive headache, I’m more embarrassed than anything else.
I knew better than to get so high on the ladder. I’d been daydreaming and humming and I got distracted. I feel like an idiot.
“I’ll be right back with your results,” the doctor says before leaving the curtained area.
“Nothing’s broken,” I tell Carson.
He sits on the bed next to me. “Makes sense to check.”
I frown. “This is silly. We should be back at the house working.”
“You’re not working on anything for the rest of the day. Maybe longer.”
“Seriously?”
“Libby…” He breathes in and then exhales, looking like he’s trying to control himself. “They said you have a slight concussion, you’re banged up and bruised. It’s…fuck. I should have been in there with you.”
“It’s not your fault,” I tell him. “I should have paid more attention.”
He shakes his head and takes my hand, the uninjured one. “It happens.”
“I bet you have some stories.”
“I have a really nasty one about a nail gun.” He gives a small smile, but there’s little humor in it. “But I think I’ll save that one for later. Libby…”
I lean into his arm. “What’s wrong?”
“I thought…” His voice grows thick. “I don’t know what I thought. But when I heard you shout, I thought the worst. And when I saw you lying on the floor…”
“I was stunned, that’s all.”
“Because you fell off a ladder. I…” He reaches out to touch my cheek. “You scared the shit out of me. I didn’t like it.”
“I didn’t mean to.”
“I know, but I still didn’t like it. The idea of something happening to you, happening to the woman I’m really starting to care about…”
His words hit me right in the heart. He’s really starting to care about me? “I feel the same way.”
He kisses me gently. When I grip his neck for another one, he shakes his head. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t.”
His lips curve, but he pulls back. “Nope. Not taking any chances.”
I stick my lip out in a pout. “No fair.”
“Once you feel better.”
“They’ll give me some drugs and then I’ll feel better. Then…” I lift my eyebrows suggestively, making him laugh. Once I hear his laughter, I feel better, too. I hadn’t realized how rattled he’d been. How much seeing me hurt had freaked him out. But maybe both of us need a break from this conversation. “Everything okay from earlier?”
“Earlier?”
“When we got here. You said you had to go to the bathroom, but I thought I heard you talking to someone.”
I’d heard voices in the hallway, and I’m sure one of them was Carson’s.
“Uh…” He rubs the back of his neck. “I saw an old friend—not a friend, really. No big deal.”
“That guy you used to work with?”
He looks uncomfortable, which is indication enough that something had happened. But before I can ask anything more, the doctor returns.
“No breaks that we can see,” he says, and when I start to smile and nod, he continues, “but you most likely sprained it.”
Carson grits his teeth, putting his arm around me. “How long will that take to heal?”
“We’ll give you some pain medication, you can wrap it to restrict movement. I’d recommend resting it for several days.”
I frown. “I have a lot of work to do. It’s—”
“It needs to be done,” Carson says.
I slide off the bed. “Can we go now?”
“You also have a mild concussion, and it’s probably a good idea to have someone keep an eye on you for the rest of the day.”
I resist rolling my eyes. I don’t feel bad. Okay, I take that back. I don’t feel terrible. But a few hours of rest should be enough and then I’ll be back on my feet.
“No work for the rest of the week,” the doctor says.
Carson squeezes me around the waist before I can answer. “I’ll make sure she gets some rest.”
Before I can argue, he discusses medication with the doctor, gets my prescription and then takes my good hand to lead me out the door.
“We’ll pick up your prescription first, and then head home,” he says, stopping on my side of his truck to open the door for me.
He helps me in, treating me like I’m a little kid. “Carson—”
“I know what you’re thinking, and I don’t want to hear it.” He gently shuts the door, gives me a pointed look through the window before walking around to his side.
I fold my arms, then wince when I bump my wrist, and unfold my arms. “What am I thinking
?”
“You’re thinking we’re losing time. That you need to work. That we don’t have time for this.”
“We don’t have time for this,” I tell him. “Carson—”
“Just take a breath,” he suggests.
He turns to me, and in a motion that surprises me, he brushes my cheek with his thumb. Words fail me.
“I want to make sure you’re okay. I want…” He swallows and gives me a wry smile. “I want to take care of you. So, please let me.”
I blink, and then nod, more than moved. Surprised. “Okay.”
“Good.”
We pick up my prescription and Carson makes me take the pills in the car with a bottle of water he got at the drug store before we head home.
Home.
That’s what it is. Our home.
I can’t think of it any other way. It’s not my place or our project, it’s our home.
“Wait for me,” Carson says when we pull up in front of the house, stopping me from opening my door. “Let me get it.”
I oblige, already feeling the pain medication kicking in. It’s making me a lot more agreeable. He opens the door and takes my arm, and I lean on him because my head’s starting to swim. Because now that I’m not feeling quite so embarrassed about falling off a ladder, I’m able to relax and think of how nice it is to have someone here for me.
After all, my dad or my brother would never show up to help take care of me. Not that I’d tell them what I did. Just another reason for them to make fun of me—or to think that I have no idea what I’m doing.
One day. That’s all I’ll take. One day off before I get back to work. There’s no way I’m going to let anyone prove me wrong.
“Thank you,” I murmur as we reach the front door.
Carson glances over. “What?”
“Thank you.” I turn to him and lean into him, wrapping my arm around his waist. “For being here for me and for taking care of me. And for believing in me.”
He kisses my temple, and then presses another kiss to my lips when I lift my chin. “You’re welcome. You okay?”
“I am—I will be.”
“All right. Let’s get inside.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CARSON