She bites her lips and averts her gaze. “Yeah, it’s been a busy afternoon.”
“I get it. You don’t know me.”
“It’s not that. It’s just . . .” Mackenzie’s voice trails off.
“It’s fine. I understand.” I dip my head to meet her gaze. “I’m here to help, though.”
Her brows pull together. “Why?”
Because your husband, that I got killed, asked me to. I have to bite back the truth. If I speak those words, she won’t have anything to do with me. So, I justify the lie of omission by telling myself I won’t be in town long. Once I carry out Ethan’s wishes and she’s settled, I’m gone. But to where is still in question. “That’s just how I’m wired.”
Her skepticism softens as appreciation coats those green eyes. Our bodies gravitate toward each other a fraction as the air shifts between us. Her hand lands on my forearm, and a million thoughts float through my mind. All of them wrong. “Thanks.”
“Ms. Gillman, you’re all set.” The owner’s voice snaps the spell between us as he comes back in and dangles her keys in his hand. I shift to her left as the door chimes, signaling another customer.
“Thanks, Hank. I appreciate it.” She turns back to me. “Is tomorrow too soon?”
“I’ll be there.”
An awkward beat passes. Mackenzie nods and turns to leave. It isn’t until Hank calls my name that I realize how hard I’m staring after her.
“Ah, yes.” I whip out my credit card to pay. “I appreciate you fixing it.”
“If you have any more problems, let me know.” He hands over my keys and yells to a guy who followed in behind Mackenzie. I’d place him in his upper twenties. “Let me go check on your Volvo.”
“I’m in no hurry.” The guy steps toward me with an outstretched hand. “You must be Nate, the new guy in town.”
I narrow my eyes and wonder how this guy knows my name. His genuine smile and relaxed demeanor make it seem like we’re old pals, but I’ve never met this guy before. I know the town is small, but damn. I feel as if I’ve stepped onto the Hart of Dixie set. Except vineyards paint the town instead of Bluebell’s southern flowers. Realizing I’m being rude, I find my manners and shake his hand.
“Nate Dixon.” My voice comes across more stilted than anticipated, but considering I’ve been in town for less than a week, I don’t like being addressed by name.
“I’m Mark Morgan. I’ve heard through the grapevine you’re staying at The Cottages. How long are you in town?”
“Not for long.”
“Just passing through?”
“Helping a friend.” I realize my mistake by referencing Mackenzie as a friend when his eyebrows rise in alarm.
“Oh. I wasn’t aware you knew people in town.”
“I don’t.” I come across as a prick, but I don’t care right now. This guy knows nothing about me, yet he thinks he does. “Someone needed roadside assistance on my way into town. It seems she needs other things serviced as well.”
Why the fuck am I offering this information to this guy?
“Oh, yes. Mackenzie.” He drags the words out as he studies me, and I realize how suggestive my phrasing sounds. Other things serviced. Christ.
“You sure you don’t know how long you’ll stay in Sunnyville?”
“Positive.” That’s partially true. I should be gone by tomorrow evening once I fix her plumbing issues.
Mark whips out a business card from his back pocket like a ninja. Kudos to him for being prepared. “I suggest spending a few days here. The town has a way of grabbing hold of you. If you find Sunnyville a place to plant roots, call me. I can set you up. Otherwise, I hope to run into you again.”
I take the card and read the label—Mark’s Reality. Well, that’s one card I’ll never reference. I suppress the threatening grin. “Thanks, Mark. I’ll keep this in mind.” I tuck the card I have no intention of using inside my wallet to appease the over-friendly stranger.
“Mark, your car’s set to go.”
“I’ll let you get back to it. But here’s a hint. If you’re replacing the fill valve, be sure to pack a hacksaw. Some of these new ones are set lower than the overflow pipe. You may need to shorten the overflow.” Mark winks and saunters toward Hank.
I stand dumbfounded. How the hell did he know I was fixing Mackenzie’s toilet? Exactly how small is this town? A little dazed, I exit and drive to Ace Hardware.
What am I doing? I stare at the plumbing parts, contemplating which fill valve to buy. I’m a surgeon, not a plumber, but I’m surely capable of fixing a leaky toilet. I grab various toilet guts, including a fill valve, and head to the tool section. The over-friendly guy may be nosey, but the bastard makes a valid point. I’ll need the correct tools. After the way my body reacted to seeing her again, I fear having the right equipment still won’t get me out of that house quickly enough.
Chapter Six
Mackenzie
“Mom, I have to pee.” Nick’s pleading eyes stare up at me as he waffles from foot to foot, concern growing with each passing moment.
I glance over at the only toilet in the house and wince. The lid lies off to the side on the floor, flanked by some black bulb thing. Nate is elbow-deep in the tank. He glances over his shoulder at me and takes in Nick’s desperation.
“He can still go. We just won’t be able to flush.”
“No, he can go outside.”
“Mommy, I can’t go out there. The neighbors will see.”
“It’s okay, Nick, I’ve gone plenty of times outside.”
My mouth tightens at Liam’s confession. I notice Nate stifling a laugh. Smart man.
“It’s one perk of being a guy, buddy,” Nate says.
I roll my eyes, but really, Nate has a point. The advantage guys have at being able to relieve themselves practically anywhere isn’t fair. It’s been a sore talking point ever since the senior year when we snuck away drinking. My boyfriend never had to worry about finding a workable bathroom. I, on the other hand, was not as fortunate. I’d end up hanging off the bumper, trying not to piss on my shoes.
“Okay, but let’s not make this a habit.” I give Liam a stern look. “One time won’t hurt.”
I shuffle Nick out the door and find a secure, private place tucked between two pine trees. I try not to think about the guy inside working on my plumbing, but he has a presence about him I can’t seem to shake. I know it’s wrong. He’s older than me. But by how much, I don’t know. I can tell by the way he conducts himself. The mature way he handles situations drives me to believe he’s pushing forty. Even I have to admit his ripped pecs and bulging biceps don’t reflect his age. Those sculpted abs are every bit as delicious as a younger man’s. But it’s more than his appearance that sends me to Lustville. It’s the way he goes out of his way to help. Behind that brooding guy lies a gentle bear. I snort at the cliché thought, but it’s true.
We come in from the outside, and voices carry down the hall. Nick runs toward them, but I hang back to eavesdrop on Liam.
“But why do you have to do that?” my sweet, curious boy asks.
I prepare for the irritated sigh and glib answer, but it never comes. Nate explains in detail how fill valves and plungers work. Liam enjoys learning. He’d drill Ethan with questions all the time. It drove Ethan crazy. He never had the patience to explain anything. We lived off base, and the house we rented had a postage stamp-sized yard. The mower blades had needed sharpening. A chore Ethan hated doing. Liam asked him so many questions that day.
“How can you tell when the blades need sharpening?”
“Why do you need eye goggles?”
“Why are you putting the blade in a vice?”
“What’s an angle grinder?”
By the time Ethan was ready to align the grinder to the blade, he had blown up and sent Liam inside. My heart broke for the kid because he only wanted to learn. Ethan’s patience always ran thin.
I blink away the memory and march toward the bathroom. “Ok
ay, kiddos, leave Mr. Dixon alone. Don’t you have some chores to do before we head to the park?” I’m met with a couple disgruntled, “Yes, ma’am,” responses.
Those honey-rich eyes flash toward mine, but he doesn’t speak until the kids leave. “They weren’t bothering me.”
I study him for a moment. Did he purposely wait until the kids were out of earshot to not undermine my authority? If so, I’m not sure how to process his gesture. I blink the notion away. I’m sure I’m reading too much into his statement. “They can get a little overbearing.”
He shrugs. “They’re just curious, that’s all. Liam’s pretty inquisitive.”
My head swims as I blow out a slow, steady stream of air. Nate isn’t even trying, and he’s making it very hard not to like him. But I can’t like him. Not in the way my body reacts to him. How can I know all of this and still be attracted to him?
“I’ll be done in a minute. I just have to cut the standpipe. It sits higher than the fill valve.” He grabs the hacksaw, and I stand there, watching his biceps flex while he moves the saw back and forth.
A beat later, I feel a little stalkerish and march myself toward the living room. But damn, that man’s impressive. Looks aside, not only did he fix the toilet, but he brought his own tools. Nice shiny bright ones that look brand new. Did he buy them specifically for this job? No. That makes little sense. He wouldn’t have purchased new tools for me.
I’m in the middle of chastising myself for such thoughts when a curse word followed by a clang cuts through the air. I rush to the bathroom, not knowing what to expect. Nate opens and closes his left hand a few times before grabbing the saw, but the slight tremor to his hands is evident.
“Are you sure your hands are good?”
Nate’s body stills as his gaze cuts to mine and holds, the light shades of golden brown darken. Holy crap, that smoldering look causes my synapses to misfire. I blink a few times, unable to formulate a coherent thought. A cross between a gasp and moan escapes my mouth as my nipples harden. Jesus, who knew watching him play with a toilet could be sexy as hell.
“Trust me. My hands are very skilled.” His deep, raspy voice glides over my skin and wraps around me like a warm, cozy blanket. But it’s the words very skilled that have my inner thighs clenching.
I swallow the carnal thoughts clouding my mind and utter an, “Oh.”
The slightest grin crosses his face as his usual hardened features soften, and for that brief moment, I glimpse a more relaxed version of Nate. It’s boyish and carefree—a side I like. One I could get used to.
We stay this way, holding each other captive, neither one wanting to make the first move. My heart pounds as my mind races to determine the secret meaning behind his words. I’m sure it’s my imagination getting carried away. A lonely, desperate woman seeking more meaning into frivolous things. He severs the connection almost as if he’s solidifying my thought. I take a stuttering breath as he grabs the saw, silence eating up the air in this small space as he makes the last cut.
“There, you should be back in business.” He flips the valve to turn the water back on and tests his handiwork. After the toilet flushes without any leaks, he gathers his tools and sits back on his haunches. “Does anything else need fixing besides the kitchen faucet?”
Part of me wants to say everything, but he can’t provide the kind of help I need. I won’t delve into my problems and give my head a slight shake. “Nothing pressing.”
He stands. “All right then, I’ll tackle that faucet.”
“The kitchen is down the hall to the right.” I’m not sure why I tell him. The house isn’t that big.
“The handle’s loose,” he says, turning the door handle.
“Yeah, I meant to tighten it.” Our eyes divert to my bedroom, where moving boxes stay piled—another chore I’ve yet to tackle. Most of the packages contain Ethan’s belongings, and I can’t force myself to sort through them. It was hard enough packing it all. “Among other things.”
“Grab me a Phillips screwdriver, and I’ll work on this next. The last thing you want is one of the boys to get stuck in here.”
“You don’t have to fix that. I’m quite capable of turning a screwdriver.”
“I have no doubt you’re quite capable, but I’m here now. I have time.”
With no further protest, I get him the screwdriver. After tightening the knob, he follows me to the kitchen where he proceeds to fix the faucet. I don’t bother him and opt to see how the kids are progressing with cleaning their room. Thirty minutes later, I wander back into the kitchen and stop mid-step. Nate lies on his back with his upper torso hidden underneath the kitchen sink. His shirt rides up, teasing me with a glimpse of his happy trail that leads to his nether regions. Oh, how I’d love to trace my fingers along that path. Or better yet, trace it with my tongue. But as soon as I process the thought, guilt grabs hold and refuses to let go. What is wrong with me? I blame lack of sex as the force driving my libido. Regardless of the reason, it isn’t fair for me to think about anyone else but my late husband. Doesn’t that make me an awful person? The state of our marital status shouldn’t matter. It’s wrong. He was still my husband, and now, my kids are fatherless. I clear my throat.
“Are you running into more problems?”
“Ah, no. I had to disconnect the faucet to replace some of the O-rings. Luckily, I bought the right size.”
I glance at the various packages lying on the ground. It looks like Nate bought several sizes. “You really are a ‘Mr. Fix It’ guy.”
He chuckles. “I come in handy at times.”
I bet you do.
“It will be nice having full use of the faucet.”
“One more crank and I’m done.” He scoots out of the cabinet and flips to his stomach. He turns off the shutoff valves and stands to test the faucet—another success.
“I can’t thank you enough for helping. The Gallezes will be back soon. They’ll address some of the other issues here and reimburse me for your payment.” I toss him a dishtowel after he washes his hands.
His reflexes are quick as he swipes the towel midair and dries his hands. “I don’t need paid.”
“I can’t ask you to do all of this without some reimbursement.”
“That’s not why I helped. Besides, it’s illegal to collect payment when I’m not a licensed plumber.” He winks.
Why are you so kind? I don’t ask the question burning inside me. Instead, I take the coward’s way out. “True, but I don’t like it.”
“I tell you what. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a home-cooked meal. You can owe me one.”
“That can be arranged.” I smile the first genuine smile I’ve felt in a long time. I can’t remember how long it has been since I’ve cooked for someone other than my boys. A tiny twinge pinches my stomach.
Nate’s gaze lands on the kitchen table where my nursing books lie. My body stiffens. I hate that defensiveness is my automatic response, but I can’t help it.
“You’re in nursing school?” The surprise in his tone isn’t mocking. It’s more curious than anything.
“I start next week, actually. I’m enrolled at Cessna University of San Francisco. They’re an extension from the main college in Los Angeles.”
“Yeah, I’m familiar.”
“It’s the closest college that fit my needs with its rolling admissions. Classes start soon, and the program lasts for two years.”
“Nursing’s a great career choice. What made you choose nursing?”
“It’s something I’ve always wanted to do. My plan had always been to become a nurse.”
“What stopped you?”
It’s an innocent question, but loaded with a heavy answer. “Life got in the way. Ethan and I got married young. Then, we had Liam. Since Ethan was gone a lot with his career, he never wanted me to work.”
Nate’s body stiffens as he nods. The relaxed demeanor from earlier dissipates like a faded memory. “I guess that’s understandable. As long as you
agreed.”
My lips flatten as I try to fight off the feelings that swell up. Arguing about me going back to school and getting my nursing degree had always been a sore spot in our marriage. But Ethan is dead. Rehashing things I can’t change is useless.
“I’m going now. That’s what counts.”
Nate eyes me for a second before nodding. A moment later, Liam comes in.
“Mom, is it safe to use the bathroom now?”
“Yes, you can thank Mr. Dixon for fixing it for us.”
Liam turns his steel-blue eyes toward Nate and cocks a half-smirk. When he makes that face, he looks so much like Ethan, it hurts. “Thanks, Mr. Dixon.”
“You’re welcome.” Nate’s voice comes out half garbled. His face pales. It’s almost as if seeing Liam made him edgy. Perhaps I mistook his earlier encounter with him, and he’s not into kids? I shake my head. That can’t be right. He was so patient with him. It doesn’t matter if he’s into them or not. Nate’s likes or dislikes aren’t my concern.
Liam sprints down the hallway and dives into the bathroom. I let out a small chuckle and turn to Nate, but stop laughing when I take in his posture. He stands ramrod straight, expressionless. It’s as if he’s turned to stone.
He glances at the pile of books and shifts his weight. “I need to go.”
“Thanks again for helping.”
“I’m glad I could help.” With those words, he gathers his tools and leaves abruptly.
What on earth happened?
We went from casual talking to me standing in his wake. Confusion and wariness flood my mind as I process how to feel. The broody, mysterious man is back. Trust me, Nate Dixon, by the time we’re through, I will figure you out.
Chapter Seven
Nate
It’s an easy choice, Nate. Just do it.
The road leading out of Sunnyville is simply a matter of turning left. One left crank, and I can be far away from this town. But here I am, sitting at the stop sign, contemplating my choices. When I returned from my morning jog, I had been dead set on leaving. Once showered and packed, I made the decision. Being in her house yesterday, being that close to her, was a mistake. No, not a mistake—her issues needed fixing—but I can’t risk getting closer to her. I liked helping her out a little too much. I’m a man. Satisfying a woman is built into me. It’s that simple. Nothing more.
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