When had she turned so sour? It was true that she hadn’t had much opportunity to be around men, but when she did, how had she reacted? Sadness flooded in, making her acknowledge that she’d become an irritable old woman before her time.
Maybe if she’d had a dad to ask for help when things got tough, she’d be different, more confident, more… she didn’t even know. How could she?
Instead, she’d gotten so crusty that she couldn’t even ask a professional electrician for electrical help, for fear of being in close contact with a man. She knew she’d withdrawn and had lackluster social skills, but geesh.
She looked back to the window, and just as if she’d conjured his attention, Alex stopped working and glared toward the trailer. His expression wasn’t a happy one, and it put Katherine firmly back into the moment.
He isn’t just any electrician, she reminded herself. “Stay focused, Katherine,” she muttered, moving back to check out the rear of the trailer.
* * *
The little trailer rocked slightly as Katie moved around inside, diverting Alex’s attention once again. He ground his teeth, trying to concentrate on the conduit in his hands.
Not wanting to bother Katie, he’d arrived on the job early that morning and set up a play yard for Fish under a tree close by. He’d made sure the puppy had a water dish and an old rug, and the little dog now lay sprawled on his side, peacefully napping.
With the piece of conduit glued, he dropped to his good knee and placed it in the ditch, then straightened with a grunt, surveying his work. Since he’d gotten an early start, he’d had two lines run to the trailer lots completed before Katie came out to check on her trailers.
Not that he’d noticed.
A shadow moved in the nearest trailer, and he squinted into the sun for a better look. But determined to stay on task, he put aside thoughts of the woman and the trailers and turned to head back to the truck for more conduit.
He’d only gone a few steps, however, before the woman was back on his mind. What was it about Katie that kept drawing his thoughts away from work? He’d never been this jumpy or addlepated over a woman, and he’d worked around plenty of females in the military.
He glanced back at the little trailer, nearly tripping on a mud rut. Why was Katie so different from the females he was used to? Normally, he could joke and tease, making women laugh and blush. But something about this woman made him ache inside.
Reaching into the back of the truck, he tugged out two long lengths of plastic conduit and headed back toward the rows of ditches. Did Katie get to him because she’d come to represent his youth, his life before the military, before the physical struggles, pain, and the mental anguish? Before the loss and disillusionment?
He dropped the conduit and pulled out his tape measure. He could tell himself it was that easy, that she was a figment of his lost vitality, but there was more to it than that. No, he argued, she was just a distraction, that was all. So why was that? She wasn’t super sexy, after all, she was guileless. She dressed in unassuming clothes, wore her hair in a bun, didn’t wear any makeup. Nothing about her screamed sexuality, yet he couldn’t think of much else.
The weird thing was that he wanted to make her smile every bit as much as he wanted to run from her. His fingers itched to touch her, and thoughts of her in his arms interrupted his day nonstop.
It was probably the history they shared. Back in the day, they’d been all over each other. Nothing had stopped them from kissing, and they’d held hands, touching each other every moment. He’d snuck out at night to be with her, and she’d told fibs about where she was going to be with him.
But it hadn’t all been about sex, either. They’d talked for hours about their hopes and dreams, their passions and plans. Both of them had been idealistic and optimistic back then, certain that they had it all figured out. They had been so sure they knew who they were and who they’d become. He was going to make a difference in the world, save the good people from the bad guys, leap over skyscrapers, and stop speeding bullets. She’d been so smart, so sweet, so well read, so eloquent, so brave. She was going to be one of the leading minds in the world, he’d been sure -- a professor or philosopher.
They’d made love over and over, never tiring or needing much sleep, and they’d talked for hours on end afterward. That summer had been two months of living a dream with no consequences -- a story of their own making that now seemed as far removed from reality as if it had simply been a movie he’d seen long ago.
His brow crinkled. What had they spent all that time talking about anyway? Their futures, yes, but as he inspected the memories, he recalled them discussing movies and music and books. They had shared a love of literature. They’d talked books and writers endlessly. She’d made up stories for him, and they’d twisted the plot, creating endings that made them laugh.
The memory shook him. How had he forgotten those passions, things that had been so important to him? When had he put aside his books and stopped reading? Likely when he’d been forced to travel light and been so consumed with military training that he’d had no time to think about anything but his welfare and that of his buddies.
With a shake of his head, he stretched his tape measure along the ditch and noted the length, then reached for a piece of conduit. Measuring the length of the plastic, he held the tape in place with his thumb and pulled the pencil from his pocket to mark the cut.
Days of endless cold and dirt came to mind loneliness, fatigue, as well as nights drinking with his friends. Men, filthy and exhausted, washing away the grit and horror of the day with alcohol and jokes. There it was -- the transition he’d made from idealistic boy to hardened soldier. Somehow, he’d come to consider literature as a part of his childhood, the life he’d left behind.
Bending to retrieve the small hacksaw, he wiped his forehead with his shoulder, then placed the blade on the mark and cut the conduit, letting the end fall to the ground.
Reading and writing had been such a passion to him when he was a kid, and Katie’s love of books and stories of all kinds had been a bond they’d shared. Obviously, as a librarian, she’d kept up with her addiction to books.
He glanced over his shoulder, but she was still in the trailer. Returning his attention to his work, he pulled the rubber cement from a pocket on his tool belt and screwed off the lid. Liberally painting the smelly goo around the end of the conduit, he wondered where all his old books had gone, his dad’s basement maybe?
* * *
Katherine chewed on the side of her bottom lip as she worked on her tablet, tapping off items needed to fix in the trailer. Could she ask Alex to help with the trailers? He was competent, his work so far had shown that, but…
“For heaven’s sake,” she muttered. This was about getting work accomplished, not old high school flings, right?
Jumping down from the Santa Fe, she closed the door and headed back toward her own trailer thinking of lunch. As she passed Alex, she stopped to check his progress. White plastic conduit lay in many of the trenches, surprising her that he had gotten so much done in one morning.
“Looks good,” she said, shading her eyes with one hand.
He shrugged his shoulders in response and continued working. “The meters will take some time.”
“Right,” she acknowledged, turning to continue toward her trailer. She stopped and looked back. “It’s hot out here. Did you bring a lunch?”
He hesitated, thinking of the protein bar he’d tossed into the passenger seat of the truck at the gas station that morning. It was likely melted. “I’m good, thanks.”
She took three more steps then stopped again. “I made potato salad last night— it’s nice and cold.” Her words shocked her, and she wondered what on earth had possessed her to invite him, not once but twice, to eat with her.
He paused, his eyes coming up to meet hers. He appeared to be thinking about her offer because his lips pursed, and his eyes darted off to one side then back. “I do need to talk to you about the me
ters,” he conceded.
Collecting her business sense, she nodded once. “Right then. Bring Fish and let’s get out of the heat while we talk. I’m hungry.” Without waiting for him to answer, she stalked across the field toward her house. “Meters, Katherine. Concentrate on the meters,” she instructed herself.
* * *
Alex leaned over the bar in Katie’s kitchen and dug his fork into the scoop of potato salad on his plate.
“Tara called me the other day,” Katherine said conversationally, scraping up the last of her salad with the side of her fork.
“Oh yeah, what did she want?”
She shrugged. “I think she wanted me to tell her to come out and see the trailers, but…” she hesitated, still unsure how to proceed with the whole making friends bit.
“Well, once she comes out here, the floodgates will open.”
Concerned about being descended upon by the women of Smithville, she frowned.
“Have you decided what sites you want to have 30-watt hookups and which will have 50-watt hookups?” he asked, interrupting her thoughts. “Or do you want both on every lot?”
Katherine stood and stepped around the chugging cooler to put the potato salad back into the fridge. “It’s on the prints,” she teased.
He lifted his fork filled with salad, in a toast. “Touché”
She blushed. “Most vintage trailers were originally wired for 15 amps,” she said, keeping the conversation moving. “But after Burt explained it all to me, we decided to rewire the trailers for 30 amps.” She leaned against the fridge and smiled down at Fish, who sat happily soaking up the cool air from the make-shift air conditioner. “I hate to change anything, but I figured that since most of my guests would be coming in the summer, they’d be uncomfortable without AC. Plus, I didn’t want them flipping the breakers every time they turned on the microwave.”
He finished chewing and swallowed. “Makes sense. So you’ll want 30-amp service then?”
She bent to scratch the dog between the ears. “Yeah, except for the units along the back. I want those to be both.” The puppy wiggled and leaned into her attention.
Alex scooped up the last bite. “This is good, Katie; I must be used to my dad’s cooking.”
“Katherine,” she said without thinking, her attention still on the dog.
He froze, his loaded fork hovering in mid-air. “Why do you do that?”
Her eyes came up to his. “Do what?”
“Push people away like that.”
She straightened. “Excuse me?”
His fork lowered back to his plate, and he squared his shoulders. “When you insist that you be called Katherine, it alienates people.”
She scoffed. “Oh, like you’re Mister Cozy? At least I don’t crack a stupid joke to avoid everything.”
He didn’t joke to avoid anything, he did it to put people at ease, so they didn’t worry about him. “You don’t know anything about me,” he snapped.
Her hands came to her hips. “And whose fault is that?”
He searched for a snappy retort.
Katherine snatched her empty plate from the bar and carried it to the sink. “What does my name have to do with electric meters anyway?”
“Not a thing,” he growled, shoving the last bite of food into his mouth. As he chewed, he stood and collected his plate, struggling to regroup and find his usual brash attitude. He wandered into the kitchen, watching Katie’s back as she stacked dishes in the sink and stopped a foot behind her. “What type of pedestals do you want? And do you want regular RV pedestals or lighted pedestals?”
Her hand stopped, hovering in mid-air as she prepared to dump bottled water over the dishes.
“Do you want time-of-day metering, Katherine,” he teased, emphasizing her name “So you can record usage during peak hours?”
Without turning around, she shook her head. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”
“No, but it may help you gauge usage so you can plan a budget.”
She dropped the bottle of water in the sink and spun to face him, irritated by his attitude. But something about him stopped her cold. She didn’t know this Alex. Behind his devil-may-care arrogance, he was stiff, so unlike the boy she’d loved. His beard made him look different, of course, but the cold desolation in his eyes made him feel different, more like a flat cutout of a man than an actual person. It hurt her heart.
She cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders, pulling up anger as a shield. “You think I don’t know what I’m doing.”
A slow, overconfident grin spread across his face. “Oh, Honey, if memory serves, you know plenty.”
“There you go again!” She accused, motioning with her hand. She was upset by Alex’s words, yes, but she was far more upset about her reaction to him than anything he said. Her hands shook with emotion, so she folded her arms across her chest. She certainly wasn’t happy to be pinned between him and the kitchen sink; he was too close. She felt cornered.
With his eyes riveted on hers, Alex continued. “I’m here to do a job for you, Katherine.” His voice lowered and he moved closer, reaching past her to hold his plate over the sink. “Just tell me what you want,” he said, with their noses nearly touching. He may have been teasing her, even taunting her, but his manner was serious.
Her pupils dilated and she swallowed hard.
The look in his eyes shifted to include a hint of resentment. “Do you even know what you want?” his voice rumbled, deep and low.
Katherine’s arms went slack, and her spine went soft.
His gaze darted to her lips and then back to her eyes.
The lump in her throat choked her, and she wished she could push him away. He really was out of line, but some emotion held her spellbound, and it wasn’t annoyance. It was sweet and hot, powerful and intoxicating. Her heart did a flip in her chest when she recognized the long-lost feeling as anticipation.
* * *
When Alex realized Katie wanted him to kiss her, he faltered. The floor fell out from beneath his feet, and his mood turned from teasing and taunting to red-hot desire. His plate and fork clattered into the sink as both his hands came up to frame her face. His fingers slid along her jaw, mingling in the wisps of hair that had escaped her bun, and his thumbs caressed the smooth skin of her cheeks.
“Katie.” He sighed.
Chapter Eleven
When Alex’s whiskers brushed the tender skin of her face with his lips only a breath away, Katherine’s brain kicked into gear, and she panicked. Yanking out of his grasp, she ducked under his arm and ran to the door. Flinging it open wide, she rushed down the steps into the oppressive heat. With her breath coming in gasps, she sprinted full tilt, not stopping until she reached the little Aljoa. Once on the other side, she leaned against the trailer, her chest heaving.
Knowing that her reaction was overblown, she cursed her traitorous body. She was usually so good at keeping her emotions in check, yet here she stood, spooked and unable to prevent the sensations that surged through her.
She’d come here to build an RV park and run a business, not fall back into Alex’s arms. Yet every time she was near the man, she couldn’t help but be affected by him.
She stomped her foot. She’d fallen for Alex once, and what had it gotten her? Years of heartache and loneliness, that’s what. And now she was allowing herself to be drawn in all over again by the very man who had cruelly rejected her.
Her lips pressed into a thin line. If she were honest, she had to concede that perhaps cruel was a harsh word for how he’d ended their relationship. He’d hardly been more than a boy himself back then, and his plans had been firmly in place before she came along. At least he’d been honest with her.
But who’s to say he didn’t have goals or plans now that would take him away again, just as they had then.
“I don’t know anything about him,” she sputtered. She was responding to a practical stranger. It must be chemistry, or cellular memory, or some other intangible fo
rce at work, because there was certainly no logic involved.
“I’m being ridiculous,” she moaned. Men did not affect her this way! But her head swam knowing that his touch sent her into a tailspin.
Had years of working to support herself and now building herself a whole new future done nothing to build her resiliency? What made her act like a weak and doe-eyed 18-year-old when it came to Alex?
She was strong; she could resist him! She stomped her foot again.
She was independent and resourceful. Her chin came up.
She was sobbing. Her confidence crumpled.
She sniffed, then her breath caught and her eyes widened as an epiphany nearly blinded her. Perhaps. it was all those years of not allowing herself to feel anything, all that… keeping herself sterile and removed from emotion, maybe that was the reason she was having this reaction. She had no experience dealing with powerful feelings or poignant situations. She’d always said she had no social skills, here was the proof!
“Well, great. Now what?” she huffed, tossing her hands in the air. Unable to stand still, she pushed away from the trailer to pace, dashing away tears with the back of her hand.
She really only had one option, and that was to get on with things and figure it out. No other electrician was going to replace Alex. No one was going to wave a magic wand and fix this mess.
Her dad evidently wasn’t going to appear and fix anything for her, that was for sure!
She gasped. Had she even been hoping for that? Well, she would put the kibosh on that thought! That was one lesson she’d already learned.
So what was her next course of action? Did she ignore Alex and hope the work was finished as soon as possible? The trailer behind her needed an air unit installed, so she’d have to be near him if she planned to finish the rehab. Could she be cool, collected, and talk only about the job at hand?
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