by Susan Crosby
“I apologize, okay?” Shana said, her tight voice aimed at the tiled wall behind the sink. “We got carried away last night. I think it caught both of us off guard—at least it did me. But that’s the end of it.”
“It?” He liked that she was riled up and confused. So was he. And he liked it for himself, too.
She sighed and turned around, finally looking him in the eye. “The kissing. The enticing.”
“Oh, that it.” Enticing? An interesting word choice. “It was just a fluke, Shana. We probably had to get it out of our systems.”
She eyed him as warily as Emma had earlier. “Is it out of your system?”
Not even close. “Well…I could lie to you, but we agreed to be honest. That said, I am an adult. I don’t pursue if I’m not wanted.” He didn’t want to continue the discussion. “Is Aggie watching Emma today?”
“Aggie!” Emma shouted as Shana cleaned her up.
“Yes. She can keep her all day, if necessary.”
“Good. I’m not sure how long everything will take. You can meet me at the Orwell house after you’ve dropped her off.”
“All right.”
Damn, she was pretty. Soft and feminine in jeans and a plaid shirt she’d probably chosen because she didn’t think it was sexy, but it was, even with all but the top button fastened so that there was no danger of any cleavage showing. He’d felt just the sides of her breasts last night before she pulled away, his thumbs pressing into her flesh momentarily, enough to make him want more.
Shana started to walk past him with Emma in her arms. He stopped her, putting a hand on her shoulder briefly.
“Are we okay?” he asked.
“We have to be,” she said.
He got it. This job meant everything to her, as did her reputation. She was straddling a line between what she needed and what she wanted. So was he. They were young, single and healthy, and there was a previously unacknowledged attraction between them. Factor in that they lived in the same house, and it got really complicated.
He tapped Emma’s nose and smiled at her, getting a smile in return finally, albeit a fleeting one, as if she couldn’t help herself. It pleased him enormously.
“I’ll see you later, Miss Emma.”
He had to stop himself from kissing Shana goodbye, which seemed like the most natural thing to do.
“Do you want me to make lunches for you and Dylan?” she asked.
“Thanks, but we’ll manage on our own.”
“I don’t mind.”
“We never know what time we’re going to break for lunch, and sometimes we’re not even working at the same site. If you’ll do breakfast and dinner, at least most of the time, that works for me. We’ll go out occasionally, too.” He walked across the room, grabbed his work vest from the coatrack. “I’ll see you in a bit?”
“Twenty minutes or so.”
“Good.” He left. The crisp December air energized him. He had a big garage, but he rarely used it, preferring to have his truck ready to go in an instant. Shana’s SUV was parked in it. It would be easier for her to get Emma in and out in bad weather and go right into the kitchen. He liked that Emma wouldn’t have to walk through dirt to get into the house—and that Shana wouldn’t have to carry her.
You’re thinking like a family man.
No, just a practical man, he decided, which was a good thing.
“Looks like you survived your first weekend okay,” Aggie said to Shana as Emma raced by her into the living room and the big toy box there.
“Of course we did. It was easy.” Right. Sure it was.
“I heard his date’s car was still at Big Dave’s house until Sunday morning.”
“Really? And was Doc’s car here until Sunday morning, too?”
“Of course not,” she said indignantly, then she grinned like a girl. “I know this town better. He would have to leave his car at home and walk over.”
“Aggie McCoy,” Shana said in pretend shock.
She shrugged. “It didn’t happen, but I do know how to handle that kind of situation.”
“Did you enjoy yourself?”
“I did.”
“Will you go out with him again?”
Her eyes sparkling, she nodded. “He already asked. Now, don’t go telling stories about us, okay? We’re going to try to keep it on the down low.”
“Good luck with that. Emma, come give me a hug, please. I need to get to work.”
“Bye-bye, Mama. Bye-bye,” she said as Shana hugged her close.
“I don’t have any idea what time I’ll be through,” Shana said to Aggie. “I’ll keep in touch.”
A few minutes later she pulled up at the Orwell house. She was excited about starting work. No two days would be the same, but that was good. She was up to the challenge.
“Morning, Shana,” Dylan said as she stepped into the kitchen. They were still sanding the cabinet faces, but the graffiti was all but gone.
“Everything okay with Aggie?” Kincaid asked.
Shana decided to let him hear the rumors about his date staying over with Big Dave from someone else. It would seem like she was rubbing it in or…cared or something. “Aggie’s good. Emma adores her, so it’s never an issue to leave her there. Now, what can I do?”
“I need you to pick up stain for the cabinets. We’re just about ready for that step.” He caught her gaze, his expression bland. “I called your dad. He’s got it in stock.”
Did Kincaid know how little she and her father communicated? “Okay,” she said, but feeling far from it.
“After that, I’ll take you to one of my rentals,” he said. “The tenant just moved out, so it needs cleaning, at least. We’ll assess what else needs to be done, and you can decide how much you want to tackle, and what’s beyond your ability.”
She was confident in the life skills she’d acquired along the way. “Sounds good,” she said. She wasn’t as confident about going to her father’s store. So far, she’d avoided her father’s domain since she’d been back.
To settle her nerves—and maybe even to stall a little—Shana walked the three blocks to the hardware store, which was a general term for the small-town business. They didn’t stock just tools and parts but also small appliances, assorted household supplies, paint and some lumber, and they could special order anything. Her mom would be there, running the cash register, doing the books, but she didn’t otherwise work with the customers.
Did her daughter qualify as a customer? Shana wondered.
Her heart raced as she opened the door and stepped inside, the door chime jarring but the familiar smell oddly comforting, even with all the bad memories that came with it.
It shook her up more than she’d expected. Her knees wobbled, her pulse pounded in her ears and she couldn’t take a normal breath. She’d expected to be doing manual labor today, so she wore sturdy clothes and boots. Now she tugged her sweatshirt closer to her body, making it her armor.
She didn’t see her mother, but her father was talking to Bruno Manning, another local contractor. Dixie had hired and fired the man before hiring Kincaid instead to build Respite. They’d worked closely together. Kincaid had fallen for Dixie—
“Why, hello, Shana,” her mother said, having come up to her while Shana was lost in thought.
Shana hugged her, once again startling her. Over her mother’s shoulder she said, “Hi, Dad.”
He gave her a nod, then he angled away, returning to his conversation. He looked skinny to the point of boniness. Dixie had been worried about his health for a while now, but he wasn’t about to slow down. Shana only worried that her mother’s health would suffer because of his stubbornness.
“What brings you here?” her mother asked.
“Kincaid called in an order for some stain. I’m the gofer. Dad knows about it,” she managed to say, feeling light-headed.
Her father hitched a thumb toward the counter, where a quart of stain sat.
“Kincaid has a running account.” Bea handed her
the can.
“I need to pick up a few things for myself,” she said, setting the can on the counter again. She wandered from aisle to aisle, picking up small items. Her mother didn’t accompany her. Her father continued his conversation with Bruno, who kept moving toward the door, then finally said, “I gotta run,” and took off.
They were alone—mother, father and somewhat estranged daughter. Shana took a settling breath and walked up to the counter, placing a box of paper clips, a kite and a wire whisk next to the can of stain. By the time she turned around, her father had disappeared.
“I’m sorry,” her mother whispered. “Why didn’t Kincaid come?”
“He’s busy.” She needed to get out. This hadn’t gone well at all. “Maybe you can start an account for me, too, Mom,” she said gathering all the items and leaving, not wanting to hang around another second.
She didn’t know where to go. She needed a few minutes alone. If her father hadn’t welcomed her home by now, would he ever? He’d never spoken much to her, probably because they’d always butted heads, and they’d both ended up frustrated. Some things never changed.
She headed to the creek. This time of year, it ran at a trickle. The dank, mossy smell took her back to childhood and the many times she’d escaped to spend hours there, skipping rocks, hiking and collecting leaves. Dixie and Gavin had been the social ones in the family, always hanging out with friends. Shana did interact with her siblings some but mostly had kept to herself. She’d always done better one on one.
Kincaid would undoubtedly be angry at her for not showing up with the stain right away, but if she didn’t take some time for herself, she wouldn’t be fit to work at all.
“Shana!”
She bent her head at the sound of Kincaid’s voice. Not yet. Please, not yet.
She didn’t answer him, but he’d spotted her and was coming down the slope, leaves crackling under his boots, and then he was standing above her as she sat on a low rock, her knees pulled up.
He crouched. “Are you all right?”
She shook her head.
He cupped her shoulder. “Your mom called me.”
“How did you know I’d be here?”
“I tried to think like you.”
She sort of laughed. “That must’ve been a challenge.” She hated that he was once again seeing her not being her usual strong self, but she couldn’t muster up enough strength to get up yet.
“What happened?”
“Same old, same old.”
“He didn’t talk to you?”
“How can I get him to forgive me if he won’t speak to me? Won’t even listen to me for a minute? What kind of man does that to his own child?” She pressed a hand to her mouth as tears burned her eyes.
“What kind of man beats his wife and son for their own good?” Kincaid asked in return. “I don’t know the answers to those questions. I wish I did.”
“Your father?” she asked, horrified.
He nodded.
“Oh.” Her heart ached for him. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”
“I let it go a long time ago.”
Had he? His jaw was like granite, his skin taut, as if he was in pain.
“We’re a pair, aren’t we?” she asked, stroking his face as if she could soothe the past away. But hearing his story put her relationship with her father into perspective. It could have been a whole lot worse.
“Seems like it.”
She pressed her lips gently to his. He returned the kiss with tenderness of his own, warming her, making her feel safe, not turning it into anything like last night’s kiss.
“Thank you,” she said against his mouth.
“Likewise.” He stood, offering her a hand up, then gathered her purchases, giving them a curious look.
She smiled for the first time since she’d walked into the hardware store. It was an odd combination of items. “Do you know how to fly a kite? I thought Emma would like to watch.”
“It’s been a long time, but I think I can manage it. There’s enough open space in the park. Just need some wind.” He took her hand and helped her up the banking as she slipped and slid on the blanket of leaves.
She didn’t want to let go of him when they reached the top, but he took care of that, dropping her hand right away—which was a good thing, since her sister-in-law, Becca, came driving down the road.
She pulled over. “Everything okay?” she asked.
“Fine,” Shana said. “How are you?”
She laid a hand over her rounded belly. “I hit the halfway point in my pregnancy today. No morning sickness. Lots of energy. I feel good. Um, we heard you’d moved in with Kincaid. Gavin and I were going to call you to invite you both to dinner—”
“We’re not a couple,” they said at the same time. They looked at each other and laughed. “I’m working for him,” she said for what seemed like the fiftieth time in a few days.
“Doesn’t mean you can’t come to dinner together. We like both of you.”
“We’ll see,” Kincaid said. “For now, we’ve got to get back to work.”
She was glad he’d come looking for her, grateful he’d figured out where she’d gone. It would’ve taken her a whole lot longer to right herself had she been left alone.
Left alone.
She considered the words. She hadn’t been left alone but had retreated on her own, as she always had. She never went to anyone for help, always ran away and dealt with it herself. Alone.
Except for the one time she’d broken down with Aggie…?.
And that hadn’t turned out so bad. Not bad at all. There was much more to Kincaid than she’d imagined.
Chapter Eight
“How’s apartment living?” Kincaid asked Dylan as they stowed the tools in Kincaid’s truck at the end of the workday. They’d accomplished a lot, were only a half day behind schedule. Kincaid figured they’d be caught up by Friday.
“It’s kinda weird,” Dylan said.
“In what way?”
“I don’t know what I expected, because I’ve never lived on my own before. I guess I just haven’t figured out what to do with my time yet.”
“You lived alone for months when you were homeless.”
“That was different. I only focused on survival. This is all so…comfortable. And quiet.”
“Time to branch out and make some friends your own age. Not necessarily girls,” Kincaid added.
“Spoilsport.” He shrugged. “I’m not ready for that, anyway,” he admitted. “Not one on one. But how do I meet guys my age? I didn’t go to high school here, so I don’t have that connection.”
“I’d talk to Aggie. Or even Honey at the Lode.” His truck was loaded. “I’m going to swing over and see how Shana’s doing. Want to come along?”
“Not unless you need me to. I’d like to go talk to Aggie, get started on a social life.”
“I’m pretty sure she has some grandsons about your age,” Kincaid said before he got into the truck and took off. The rental property where Shana was working was only about five blocks away—not far enough to give him much thinking time.
The tender moment they’d shared earlier in the day hadn’t left his mind, but even after all these hours, he didn’t know what to say to her. He hadn’t opened up like that with anyone in town, hadn’t even hinted at his past, yet he’d told her the worst of it.
Kincaid pulled up behind her car at the rental house. He shoved his hands through his hair, unexpected nerves hitting him. He worried now that she would treat him differently. He didn’t want that. He’d made his place in the world by carefully constructing a life for himself, step by step. If anything broke that down, he didn’t know what he’d do.
Which is why he should keep his distance from her. He’d been honest last night when he’d told her he’d kissed her because he’d wanted to, which wasn’t just an honest statement but an understatement. He wasn’t proud of himself for giving in to the temptation of her, but he didn’t regret it, either.
&
nbsp; “Over and done,” he muttered as he climbed out of the truck. So, they knew more about each other now. They were going to share space, after all. Knowing each other well could only help.
Kincaid knocked on the front door then went inside. He called her name but didn’t get an answer as he walked through the space. She’d not just cleaned but painted the two bedrooms. The kitchen and bathroom sparkled. She’d pulled down the dining room wallpaper, a garish floral print the previous tenant had put up.
He found Shana’s checklist on the fireplace mantel. Only a couple of items weren’t checked off. She must not have stopped for lunch, unless she’d combined it with a trip to his storehouse for wall paint.
He spotted her then, raking the backyard. She stopped, stared at her right hand, then shook it before picking up the rake again, and he knew she had to be nursing a blister, probably several.
Kincaid opened the slider and stepped outside, not stopping until he reached her. He grabbed her right hand to look at it, then just as abruptly let go. “The yard wasn’t on your task list. And don’t you own gloves?”
“I—”
“Wash your hands. I’ll get my first-aid kit.” He stalked off.
He found her at the kitchen sink when he returned. She kept her back to him.
“Don’t treat me like a child,” she said with amazing calmness. “They’re just red spots, not open sores, you know.”
“A little bit more raking would’ve changed that.”
“I was about to stop.”
“Why are you so damned stubborn?” He’d never met a woman so obstinate.
“Because riling you up is entertaining.” She flashed him a smile. “And being easygoing is boring.”
He hesitated. “I guess I overreacted.”
“You think?”
“I’ve been wound a little tight all day,” he admitted.
She dried her hands and leaned against the kitchen counter. “I won’t tell anyone what you shared with me.”
“It’s not that. It just opened up some old wounds, you know?”
She nodded. “This is a cute house,” she said.