Without Words

by Stewart, Delancey

  “Nah,” I shook my head. “Not since Kristie.”

  Mom’s face scrunched like she’d eaten something sour. “Good riddance. I got to know her in the hospital when you were unconscious, and she was not the right girl for you, I can assure you.”

  “Didn’t help that I couldn’t remember her.”

  “That was for the best,” Mom said, placing her hand over mine and casting me a sympathetic look.

  “She was smokin’ hot, though.” Anna popped another piece of chicken into her mouth.

  “You met Kristie?” I was surprised. Anna hadn’t spent much time at the hospital. Teddy didn’t think it was good for her.

  “When she dropped off all your stuff,” Anna said, her mouth full.

  Of course. Kristie had dropped by here soon after I’d come out of the coma, dumped a few boxes and bags, and then taken Sampson over to Trent’s. That was the last anyone saw of her. I found a few pictures of the two of us in the stuff she left and wished I could remember something. Mom said the fact I’d erased her meant she wasn’t the one, that my subconscious had found a convenient way to tell me. But everything that came right after the accident might have been less shitty if she’d stuck around. At least there might have been sex to go with all the rehab. And she was pretty hot. Guess a boyfriend who didn’t remember her wasn’t exactly her bag. I really didn’t blame her.

  “Well, you know, Celeste Aubergine has a lovely daughter—”

  “No, thanks.” Celeste was one of Mom’s Coronado friends. She was nice enough, but I needed distance between myself and the locale where I’d spent some pretty crappy years. If her daughter was from here and was near my age, she’d probably gone to my high school. And I didn’t need to rehash that nightmare.

  Mom leaned back in her chair, disengaging.

  The rest of lunch was spent on the weather and the view, and hearing Anna talk about seventh grade. I didn’t envy her that long road. At least Anna fit in physically with her long legs and cascade of blonde hair. She’d probably do fine.

  We spent a few minutes with her new pencils, me showing her how to wash the color with a bit of water on a brush, how to make it darker or lighter based on pressure and liquid.

  Mom walked me out to the truck after lunch. “Thanks for coming out, Roberto,” she said, pulling me close. “I miss you.”

  “Love you, Mom.” I kissed her forehead and hugged her.

  “Come back soon. Do you want me to ask Teddy if maybe there’s something in construction? On one of the crews he works with?” It was actually not a bad idea, but working with Teddy would not end well. It never had in the past.

  I shook my head. “No, thanks.”

  Mom’s face fell, but she recovered her smile quickly and stepped back from the truck as I opened the door for Sampson to jump in. As I crossed the bridge back to San Diego, the weight of my mother’s expectations lifted a little. It was hard to bear. I wished I could make her proud again, but at twenty-seven, I needed to figure out something that worked for me. Not for her.

  Chapter Four

  Dani

  Over the next week, I was a machine. I cleaned the shop from top to bottom, scrubbing the floor and the walls until every last bit of dust and grime was a memory. I spent the most time scrubbing out the tiny kitchen in the back, since I would need it to be fully functional, not to mention to get it spotless for the final restaurant permits and inspections. I’d already gotten the food safety and handling certifications, but a lot went into opening even a small restaurant in San Diego, and the liquor license was a whole other can of worms, though that one was almost complete. Things were moving in the right direction, and once the place was gleaming, I was ready for the next step.

  “Hey, you need a hand?” A thin, blond guy poked his head out of the burger joint next door when he saw me struggling to pull the tile saw I’d rented from my little yellow VW Beetle.

  I stopped wrestling with the thing long enough to throw a grateful look his way. “Thanks.”

  He helped me pull it from the car, get the table for it set up, and erect the monstrosity on the sidewalk in front of my shop.

  “You’ve got some serious work ahead of you, I guess.” He glanced into the shop and then back at me, running a hand through a wild mop of almost white hair. “I’m Toby, by the way. This place here is mine.” He pointed to Bill’s Burgers.

  “I’m Dani,” I said, shaking his outstretched hand. “So if you’re Toby, where is Bill?”

  “Bill?” He looked confused for a moment, and I pointed at the sign over his restaurant. “Oh, yeah. No. No Bill.”

  “No Bill?” I laughed.

  “Just sounded better than Toby’s Burgers.” He laughed, an easygoing smile taking over his face. “Maybe I’ll change my name.”

  “You’re probably fine. I was just asking.” I threw a glance back at the VW, dreading my next task.

  “You need all those other boxes, don’t you?” Toby followed my gaze to where a dozen boxes of sixteen-inch tile were shoved into the tiny car like a game of Tetris.

  “Only one to start,” I told him with a smile that might have been just the tiniest bit desperate.

  Toby walked over, retrieved a box of tiles, and set it gingerly on the sidewalk against the building. “You don’t happen to be an expert tile-layer, do you, Toby?”

  His smile didn’t fade, but he shook his head. “Sorry. Burgers and beer. Not so much into the construction-related arts, I’m afraid.”

  I inspected the tile saw as he talked. The guy I’d rented it from at Home Depot had given me a manual and a good amount of instruction. Plus, I’d watched more YouTube videos than should be legal. “Not to worry,” I told him, hoping I sounded confident. “I’ve got this.”

  “You sure?” Toby looked doubtful.

  I nodded. I could totally handle this. I eyed the bags of mortar and grout, and the assortment of tools I’d brought from the store.

  “Well, give me a shout if you need anything,” Toby said, following my gaze and looking less than comforted. “And please don’t cut off a finger out here.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I pressed my lips together and shot him a wide-eyed look.

  Toby went back inside his shop, and I was left to follow the directions in the manual for the tile saw. I wasn’t always a follow-the-steps kind of girl, but I also didn’t want to screw this up. There was the money issue—I couldn’t afford to lose tiles to stupidity—but this was also the first thing I’d approached in my life that really mattered. I needed to take it slow and get it right.

  Nan had left me enough money to launch this business—and enough to go to school first. She’d also left us the house, which was pretty huge considering she’d paid the mortgage off in the late eighties and we just paid the taxes on the place. It wasn’t big, but it was ours, and it was just across the freeway from downtown. We’d considered selling it—it was worth far more now than it had been when Nan was living there. And we might sell one day. But for now, it was all we had left of the one person who’d taken care of us, and living in her house made it feel like she was still taking care of us in some way.

  Nan’s will had been specific. I couldn’t have the bulk of my inheritance until I’d finished college, and I’d been more than happy to honor her wishes. I’d finished my degree in hospitality management and tourism just over a year ago and had set out to open my shop right away. It had taken me that long to finish my business plan and find a location. And now that I was ready, I didn’t want to fritter away a single cent.

  My tiling adventure started well. I mortared small areas at a time, beginning with my first full row of tiles in the center of the room, as the guy at the store had suggested. I tiled a large portion of the shop floor without even needing to make a cut with the saw, positioning spacers and enjoying the way the pattern of diagonal tile developed in the space as I went. But when it came time to make a cut to begin the edges of the room, things didn’t go as well.

  Every tile
I pushed through the tile saw chipped as the last half inch came out, ruining the smooth face of the tile.

  “Shit!” As the first one chipped, I set it aside. I could still use it for a smaller piece later, hopefully. I started again, using the edge of the cut piece to push the tile through the last couple inches, just like the guy showed me. And that tile chipped, too. “Shit, shit, shit!”

  A couple of tourists walked wide around me as I hunched over the noisy saw, gaping as I cursed loudly at the broken tiles. I turned off the saw and pushed my goggles back into my hair, staring at the saw with frustration as water dripped from the saw bed into the bucket below. I could not afford to break every tile that went through. And I didn’t know why they kept chipping. I took a deep breath and tried once more, with exactly the same result.

  “Shit,” I cursed loudly.

  “That bad?” A deep low voice rolled from behind me, startling me. I spun around, and there he was. The guy from the club. The dark skin, the bright green eyes, the tattoos. The insane buzzing in my head.

  My heart leapt into my throat and took off at a gallop. I wasn’t sure if it was because he’d startled me, or because it was him. Hell, he’d made me break out in a sweat from across the room at the club. And now he was here, not a foot away from me, dressed in khaki cargo pants and a tight T-shirt with SDFD across the chest. And he had a huge dog with him.

  I could hardly breathe.

  The guy wasn’t smiling, which, based on what little I knew of him, wasn’t a surprise. But the dog actually looked like he was grinning at me, his pink tongue hanging from one side of his mouth.

  “Sorry,” I muttered, trying to avoid getting caught in those eyes again. I looked down at the broken tile in my hand. “I shouldn’t be cursing out here. I just got frustrated.” I had no idea what to say. Part of me forgot what I’d been trying to do.

  “Need a hand?” he asked. That gravelly low voice again. That voice did something to me, just as it had when I’d heard him singing. It reached inside and pulled at a space deep within me, making me clench the muscles low in my stomach. Lower than my stomach, if I was being honest. There was something strange about his speech, not that I’d heard much of it. But his words were spaced unnaturally, with just a beat too much time between them.

  I risked a look up at his face again, immediately wishing I hadn’t. I might never be able to look away. He was handsome, in a satisfyingly masculine way. There was rough, thick stubble along his sharp jawline, and his lips were full under a nose that looked like it might have been broken once or twice. The piercing green eyes were offset by lush, dark lashes, and a heavy brow. Today the hair was hidden by a ball cap that gave him a boyish look. I found myself staring again and pulled my gaze away, a nervous laugh falling from my lips.

  “Um, I’m trying to cut tile,” I said. That was probably obvious, given the tile saw and the broken tile in my hand.

  He watched me for a moment, as if he thought I might do something other than stand in front of him like an idiot, and a tiny smile lifted the corners of his mouth. Hot under his gaze, I realized too late I still had the goofy goggles on my head and earplugs sticking out of my ears. I shoved the goggles off and grabbed at the earplugs, nearly dropping my chipped tile in the process. The guy wasn’t talking, and he wasn’t leaving. I had no idea what to do. My mouth, as usual, took over. “So the last part of the tile keeps chipping as I push it through. I don’t suppose you know anything about cutting tile? I’ve never done this before, and it seemed so easy…”

  “Can I…?” He gestured at the saw and stepped past me to inspect it. “Stay,” he told the big dog, who dropped to a sitting position next to me on the sidewalk and gave me a look that seemed to say, “Relax, he’s got this.” The stranger leaned down and looked at the blade and the tile guide from each side, and then reached a hand out for the tile I held. I handed it to him, wondering if he had any real idea what he was doing. He didn’t offer much in terms of explanation, that was for sure.

  He positioned the tile against the guide, keeping his face at blade level, and then stood and fiddled with the bolt that kept the guide from moving. He adjusted the position and bent down again, looking at the alignment with the tile still in his hand.

  “Should be good,” he told me, handing the tile back and gesturing at the saw.

  “Try again?” I asked. I was still nervous, but if he actually knew what he was doing, maybe he’d just saved me a ton of trouble. I put the goggles and earplugs back on and picked up a new tile, marking it with my grease pencil to match the first couple I’d chipped. I pushed it through the squealing saw, thrilled when it made a nice straight cut all the way to the end. I shut off the saw and spun around. “Perfect. Thank you so much.”

  He smiled, and this time, the smile took over his whole face, changing the stony stoic expression to something incredible, a look that invited me near and made me want to stay a while in its warmth.

  “Sure,” he said. He stood before me for a minute longer, the smile slowly waning, and looked like he might say something else.

  I didn’t want to rush him. His silence felt like a struggle in some way, so I just stood still and waited.

  “What’s your plan for this place? Or are you just the construction crew?” The smile appeared again and my heart jumped back to attention, along with a few other parts of my body that were supposed to be on hiatus. His words were clear enough, though each one sounded labored, and I wondered again what affected his speech that way. It might explain why he hadn’t responded to my babbling when I’d gotten up the nerve to try to talk to him in the club. Maybe I hadn’t given him enough time. I decided to blame Amy for forcing me to approach him. Clearly, neither of us had been ready.

  “I’m opening a bookstore and lounge,” I said, trying to avoid the gravity of those eyes by looking into the shop. “And I’m the construction crew, too.” I shrugged. “Keeps the costs down.”

  He nodded and made no move to go, so I stuck out a hand, pulling my glove off first. “I’m Dani.”

  He took my hand in his own. “Rob deRosa.” The buzz from the club was still there, zinging between us as he took my hand. I wondered if he felt it, too. I’d never experienced anything so elemental before. It was like my cells were responding directly to his, trying to line up for some kind of atomic tango. It was compelling and frightening all at once. “This is Sampson,” he added, nodding at the giant dog.

  Sampson recognized his name and got back to his feet, stepping forward as if indicating that I could pet him now.

  I glanced at Rob to make sure it was okay and then held out a hand. Sampson nosed at it and then pushed his huge head under my palm. I laughed, kneeling down and petting him properly. “Hi, buddy,” I crooned. “Hi, Sampson. Nice to meet you.” Sampson’s huge, expressive eyes never left my face, and I felt my heart soften a little bit. For the first time in my life, I found myself thinking maybe I needed to get a dog. I grinned up at Rob. “He’s amazing.”

  He nodded, something soft passing through the fierce eyes. “Need a hand with this?” He waved a hand toward the store.

  I stared at him, unsure what he was offering. He wanted to just hang out and lay tile with a stranger? “The tile? Seriously?” I rose back to my feet, and my gaze met his again. Zing.

  He lifted a shoulder and looked up and down the street. “Not much else to do today.” He paused again, a furrow appearing between his eyebrows. “Happy to help if you need it.”

  I considered turning him down. Spending the day—hell, spending five minutes—with this guy would be a challenge. Not because of his unusual speech or the way he seemed to move just a few beats behind the rest of the world, but because I would have to admit to myself that I was insanely attracted to him. And I didn’t need that kind of distraction.

  Tell him no, my mind said. Thank him and send him on his way.

  My mouth didn’t get the memo in time. “I could definitely use help.”

  Stupid mouth. Now we’re both screwed. />
  I glanced at him once more and he waved me toward the shop, asking me to show him around without actually saying anything. I walked him in and showed him what I was trying to do, working hard to keep myself focused. He stood close, and everything in my body went haywire. I wasn’t sure I’d actually be able to get anything at all done with him so close, but thanks to my quick mouth, I was going to have to find out.

  Chapter Five

  Rob

  No idea what made me stop, let alone ask if I could stay. But even from behind, I’d known it was her. From fifteen feet back, I’d known.

  She had the tile saw set up in front of an empty storefront, and even from behind there was an air of fierce concentration around her. And then there was the cursing. I wasn’t sure I’d ever heard the word shit sound quite so adorable. And those curves. Her strong shoulders showed in the little tank top she wore, and her hips looked completely grabbable in a pair of short shorts.

  And as soon as she spoke, I swear Sampson picked up his pace, pulling me toward her. We both had an instinct to save people, I guess. Or maybe we shared similar taste in women.

  Since I was behind her, she didn’t see me concentrate before I first spoke, and I made my offer to help sound almost casual. Which was a pretty big feat considering my dick had jumped to attention again once I’d gotten within five feet.

  I had worked on some of Teddy’s crews in high school and college, before I joined the department. It wasn’t intellectual stuff, and I knew my way around a power tool.

  Here’s what was strange about finding this girl again—not only had I recognized her instantly from fifteen feet away and from behind, but she was the first person I’d actually forced myself to stay and try to talk with in almost a year. I’d said hello to people, spoken to strangers when I absolutely had to. But since I’d quit working with the therapists they’d assigned me after rehab, I hadn’t made myself communicate regularly. I’d decided I didn’t need to. Didn’t want to. I’d had enough of people staring at me and singling me out as different in high school. Forcing myself to interact with strangers in the name of therapy just felt like marching my issues out for judgment. And I wasn’t up for that.