Home Sweet Home. Kim Watters
I liked what I was doing and enrolled in trade school. A few years after I graduated, I struck out on my own.”
“Interesting.” Abby leaned back, any lingering intimacy shattered by Cole’s revelation. Not good. It reminded her of her mother and why they’d had to keep moving. Her head buzzed and her appetite disappeared. Trouble seemed to follow him. Or maybe he actively sought it out?
She should release him from his obligation, but then she’d never get the house done on time or anywhere close to the beginning of May. Would her association with him help or hurt her chances of fitting in? Judging from the few people she’d met, it could go either way, yet she didn’t have the heart to turn him away because she couldn’t reconcile the man sitting next to her with what his partner had done or the poor decisions he’d made in his youth. His actions spoke differently, which was why she needed to give him a chance.
Their conversation turned back to the house as she forced herself to eat the last slice of pizza. At the end though, she still struggled with her curiosity. “What made you decide to do restoration work instead of new construction?”
The clink of ice shared the space between them as Cole lifted his goblet to his lips and drank. Abby couldn’t stop staring at the strong column of his neck or the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he emptied the glass. Finally her glance shifted to the cleanly shaven skin covering his angular jawline and then upward to his firm lips. She wondered how they would feel against hers.
Her breath hitched. The atmosphere in the house only added to her confusion. Going along with Helen’s scheme and eating dinner with Cole had been a bad idea, especially since she couldn’t think of the last time she’d shared a meal with anyone other than lunch with one of her ex coworkers. Yet he sat at the head of the table like he belonged there. As if this space which had been built over 135 years earlier had been constructed with him in mind. He fit into her house, but from what she’d discovered, would never fit into her life. She had to remember that so she wouldn’t get hurt again.
Cole placed his goblet on the table and stared at it intently. His finger traced the intricate pattern cut into the crystal. “Look around you, Abby. This place is a work of art. Unlike the boxes being built today, it has character and life. I’m the artist, dedicated to bringing back the vision that the original builders had in mind. Nothing more. Nothing less. I built my reputation on that and I think that’s why your grandparents hired my company. They wanted to leave you a legacy.”
Her fingers mangled the pizza crust. “I doubt it. As far as I know, they didn’t even try to look for my mom or me. It would have been nice to know I had more family somewhere.”
Cole removed the remains from her hands and wiped her fingertips gently with his napkin. His actions made her dizzy and breathing a chore, yet she didn’t want the moment to end. “There’s always two sides to every story. Maybe someday you’ll discover them. Until then, let’s keep moving forward on the house.”
The house. Good idea. Focus on what’s important. Not the niggling notion that maybe things weren’t quite what they seemed.
Releasing her hand, he pushed the plates to the side. Abby knew it was for the best and willed her heart to quit its frantic beating. She inhaled sharply, forcing her attention from the man to the candle gracing the center of the table and blew out the candle. A puff of smoke wafted between them, temporarily breaking the spell.
“Good idea.” Her voice shook despite her attempt to act normal.
She grabbed for the pizza box the same time Cole scooped up the Styrofoam container. Stunned, Abby watched him wedge the container of Ranch dressing inside with the remaining chicken wings, dump the bones from one china plate to the other, and then stack the plates on top of each other. Cole must have seen her mouth drop open even though she tried to cover it with a yawn.
Shrugging, his lips twisted into a half grin. “What? I was raised to do my share.”
Her mother had obviously been hanging out with the wrong men during Abby’s childhood. Abby followed Cole into the kitchen, taking in the breadth of his shoulders underneath his pale blue collared shirt. She hadn’t paid attention earlier. She sure did now. Her mouth went dry. Somehow she managed to place the leftover pizza in the box on the counter but not before their shoulders grazed. The instant surge of awareness kicked her heartbeat into another rhythm. Heat colored Abby’s cheeks.
“Where did you put the garbage can?” Cole stepped to the side and held up the plate with the chicken bones.
The not-so-spacious area seemed to grow smaller the longer he remained. “Under the sink.”
Instead of looking at Cole, or more specifically the light sprinkling of hair on his long, lean fingers, as they held the plates, Abby stared at the kitchen with new eyes. The room would be the last place she fixed up because guests wouldn’t be allowed inside, but it would be nice to have new amenities like a dishwasher and a refrigerator with an ice and water dispenser. All luxuries she’d grown up without and cost money she didn’t have. A new stove would be a good idea, too, if she could figure out how to use one to do more than the basic stuff.
Abby shook her head to dispel the images of fires and other cooking disasters. She had to learn how to make blueberry scones and other tasty treats to tempt her guests and make them happy. She’d promised her first customers. Of course, to begin with, she had to find the recipe.
“This will just take a moment. I’ll meet you back in the dining room when I’m done.”
Cole searched her expression as he put the two dishes in the sink and finally left the room, giving Abby a moment to breathe before putting the leftovers away. Turning on the hot water faucet, she washed the plates and wished she could wash away his imprint as easily as she did the crumbs.
Disappointment and exhaustion filled her. Turning on the tap again to rinse off the dishes, Abby watched the water spill over her hands and shoot out in different directions. Unlike her emotions, the water represented a release she dared not show. He was just like everyone else in her clichéd life. Here today, gone tomorrow. Cole was simply her contractor, not a prince in one of the fairy tales her mother used to read her. She’d best remember that before she made a fool of herself.
The sound of footsteps interrupted her thoughts. Her spine stiffened, and she shut off the tap before reaching for the dish towel on the counter. She spied Cole’s reflection in the window above the sink as he stood in the doorway and strangled the towel she’d picked up to dry her hands.
“Abby, I want to show you something.”
“No problem. I’ll be right there.”
When Abby finally returned to the dining room a minute later, Cole stood on one of the wooden chairs. Balancing his weight on the edges, he lifted his hands to the ceiling and knocked on the drywall. Hollow, just as he thought it would be.
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