Where He Belongs. Gail Barrett
scrappy kid from the trailer trash side of town, not the kind of man she should marry. He’d had no skills, no way to earn a living. Of course he’d been right to leave.
The telephone rang in the tense silence. A second later it rang again. He motioned toward it with his hand. “Aren’t you going to get that?”
“The machine can pick it up.”
The phone rang again and the answering machine beeped on. “Erin, this is Mike,” the machine recorded. “I wanted to know if you’d like to go to the symphony tomorrow night. I’ve got the bank’s box, if you’re interested. I thought we could have dinner first, maybe around seven?”
Erin lifted a shoulder, her face still flushed. “Mike Kell,” she explained. “He teaches with me at St. Michaels.”
Mike Kell. Sure, he remembered. Class president and valedictorian. His father owned the bank. Wade’s jaw clenched.
“…so give me a call when you get in,” Mike finished. The machine clicked off, paused, then whirred as it rewound.
“I take it you’re dating?”
“Not really.”
He scowled. “Dinner and the symphony sounds like a date to me.”
“We’re just friends.”
But Mike wanted it to be more, he guessed. And Mike was exactly the type Erin belonged with. Classy, educated. Irritation surged in his gut.
His gaze settled on the shadows under her eyes, the fatigue lining her face, and his temper rose. So why wasn’t Mike taking care of her? He wouldn’t let her suffer if she belonged to him—teaching rowdy kids all day, slaving over her grandmother at night, scraping by on borrowed money while her house rotted apart. Why didn’t Mike grab a chain saw and cut up those limbs in the yard or pick up a hammer and fix the porch?
Erin’s gaze caught his. “Look, I’m going to pay back the money. I just need time to organize things, that’s all.”
“And I said I don’t want it.”
Her chin came up. “Well, that’s too bad because I’m still going to pay it back. This isn’t your problem.”
“Norm made it my problem.”
She crossed her arms, her pride apparent in the tilt of her head. But another emotion flitted through her eyes. Worry. Anxiety. And suddenly she looked vulnerable, lost, like that abandoned kid she’d once been.
The kid with rejection haunting her eyes from a mother who didn’t want her. The kid who’d flashed him that sweet, shy smile, despite his bad reputation. The one who had accepted him.
A hard fist twisted his heart. He didn’t mean to trample her pride, and he sure didn’t want to hurt her. He never could stand to wound Erin.
But she obviously couldn’t solve this alone. Even if she paid off the loan, the house still needed attention. And who knew what other debts she had, or what she’d do in the future?
Which meant he had to get involved, whether she liked it or not. She had no one else to help her.
“You don’t mind if I stay here, do you?” he asked slowly. “While I’m going through Norm’s things, I mean.”
“Of course not. You can stay as long as you want.”
“Good.” That would give him time to fix the house and solve the rest of her problems. He turned and strode toward the door.
“Wade.”
He paused and turned back. Her green eyes narrowed on his. “I’m serious. I said I don’t want a savior.”
But she sure as hell needed one. And it appeared it was going to be him.
Chapter Five
The early morning sunlight filtered through the third-story window, casting weak, dust-laden rays across the room. Wade clicked on his flashlight and aimed the beam at the sagging ceiling. Pooling water had stained and damaged the plaster and buckled the wood floor beneath.
Disgusted, he turned off the flashlight and crossed to the deep-set window. The old bubbled glass was still intact, but the wooden sill had rotted, letting cold wind whistle through. He shook his head. No wonder the house was freezing. Every window in the whole damned place leaked.
He propped the flashlight on the sill, tugged his notepad from his back pocket and added to his growing list. The house was in far worse shape than he’d expected. Chimneys had cracked. The exterior stone needed repointing. The foundation had settled, causing the ground floor to warp.
And the interior was even worse. He could paint, plaster, sand and refinish every day for the rest of his life and never run out of work. And he hadn’t even looked at the heating or plumbing.
He braced his hand on the window frame and scowled out at a sprawling oak tree. So much for repairing Erin’s house while he settled Norm’s estate. No way could he finish these jobs in the short time he’d be here.
So what could he do? Erin couldn’t afford to hire out the work, and she would refuse to let him pay. But he couldn’t leave Millstown with her house in this condition.
He straightened. There was only one solution and Erin wasn’t going to like it. She had to sell Mills Ferry.
“So here you are,” she said from behind him. “I wondered where you’d run off to. Max called to see if you have time to sort through some boxes.”
He turned as she crossed the room. His gaze swept her high, full breasts, down the length of her shapely thighs, then jerked back up to her eyes. Her gentle, knowing eyes.
His heart rolled in his chest. She had the damnedest effect on him, making him want to ravish and protect her.
She stopped beside him. “So what are you doing up here, anyway?”
He eyed the fiery hair smoldering in the soft morning light, the familiar set to her jaw, and knew that she would resist this. “I thought I’d check out the house, see about fixing some things while I’m here.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Wade, I told you—”
“Yeah, I know. That you don’t need my help. But I’ll be bored just sitting around filing papers. Besides, I’m good with my hands.”
Her cheeks flushed and she looked away. The memory slammed into him again, that vision of his hands sliding over her bare, ripe breasts, her naked skin shimmering pale in the moonlight.
He forced himself to breathe. “I just want to help, okay?”
She looked back at him and a frown creased her forehead, her practicality warring with pride. After a moment she sighed. “Fine. Feel free to hammer away. Lord knows the place needs work.”
Did she have any idea how much? He rubbed the back of his neck. He wanted to repair her beloved house and make her happy, but as every smokejumper knew, you couldn’t catch every fire. Sometimes you just had to let one burn. And it wasn’t practical to fix Mills Ferry.
“It needs more work than I expected,” he admitted. “And it’s going to be expensive. Have you considered selling the place?”
“Selling it?” Her soft mouth sagged. “Oh, I could never do that. It’s been in my family for ten generations. It was on the Underground Railroad, you know.”
“And it was a hospital in the Civil War, and there are bloodstains on the floors to prove it. You gave me that tour in fourth grade.”
The edges of her lips curled up. “That day was the highlight of my life until then. I couldn’t believe everyone wanted to see my house. It was the first time I felt important.”
“Yeah.” It had been the highlight of his life, too. The two motherless kids had forged a bond that day that had endured for years.
Of