by Barbara Gee
I shrugged. “It’s in my contract. The company that gives my team most of our work hires a lot of subcontractors like us. It’s a good gig, but the security requirements are pretty stiff.”
“I assume this has to do with the cyber security part of your job. Are you expecting armed terrorists to try to get in?”
“Well, there’s always that chance,” I said, causing his brows to arch sharply up. “But it’s actually a pretty low risk due to our anonymity and how careful we are about covering our tracks. It’s more important to have the door as a deterrent to home invaders who might break in and see expensive equipment they could sell on the black market. If the stuff falls into the wrong hands it could mean big trouble. So we hide it behind a security door. That way, potential thieves don’t know what they’re missing.”
Jude shook his head slowly and I was pretty sure he was still hung up on the terrorist thing. “Okay, but it’s going to make them pretty dang curious. What if you’re forced to open the door?”
“That’ll only happen if I’m home when the break-in occurs, and they catch me before I get inside the room. To guard against that, I’ll also be installing a security system throughout the whole house, with alarms at all the doors and windows. If I’m home, the system will give me advance warning of a break-in, and I should be able to get to the office and secure the door as soon as the alarm goes off—if I’m not already there. If I can’t get to the room in time, I’ll at least have a chance to send an automatic shut-down-and-delete command to my servers before I’m caught and forced to open the door. I can do that with my phone in about five seconds. That way, even if it’s someone targeting me because of the equipment I have or the work I do, they won’t be able to access what I was working on.”
His expression had darkened as I spoke, giving me the impression he didn’t like that I had to know this stuff.
“You’ve been well briefed on security,” he said after a moment, folding his arms across his chest.
I nodded sheepishly. “I’m required to go to multiple seminars on it every year. I pretty much have everything memorized. The hardest part is not getting complacent. I mean, really, what are the chances of burglars breaking into this house?”
“You do government work?” he guessed.
He was astute, and I wasn’t surprised. “Um, yeah. I have a top-secret clearance, and I work on some pretty incredible projects. I’d like to leave it at that, if we could.”
He looked into my eyes for a long moment, then a slow smile curved his lips. “You’re more than a beautiful computer geek,” he said softly. “Thanks for helping to keep our country safe.”
“I didn’t say anything about that,” I protested.
“You don’t have to. I can connect the dots.” He gave me an approving nod. “I’m proud of you, Ava. And grateful.”
I looked down at my feet, my face warm. “Don’t make me into something I’m not,” I said quietly. “I’m just following my passion, like you are. My job is no more important than yours.”
“I disagree, but I don’t want to argue about it.” I looked up as he turned his head to survey the room again. “So this is where all the good stuff will be kept?”
I explained the basic layout for my work table and the vertical racks I’d be installing. I told him that the door at my last house had been made to look like a regular bedroom door with panels and a knob and everything. The actual keypad had been hidden in the baseboard, but I rarely used it because I could access it remotely with my phone.
I hoped to have the same setup here. That way, any legitimate visitors to my home would think it was just a locked bedroom door. They would never suspect it was actually solid steel, with two bolts top and bottom and four along the long edge, all slotted into a steel frame.
“Are you sure you don’t want to reinforce the walls with steel panels?” Jude drawled.
I could tell he was being sarcastic, so I didn’t admit to doing exactly that in my condo. But that was in the DC area, where threats seemed much greater and panic rooms weren’t unusual. I didn’t feel it was necessary to go to quite that level here in Hidden Creek. Actually, I didn’t think the security door was necessary either, but it was required.
Jude asked if I had a tape measure, and I hurried downstairs to Grandma’s junk drawer in the kitchen where I knew she’d kept one. I found it right where I expected, and when I returned to the office, Jude was standing in the doorway, running his hands along the doorjamb and tugging on the trim, like he was testing to see how easily it would come off.
“Smart of you not to paint this, because it’s going to have to be removed to get the steel frame in. But I should be able to put it back up afterwards so the door still matches the window.” He tapped the wood. “This is actually some really nice old trim. You have to special-order this kind of thing nowadays.”
I handed him the tape measure and he did his thing, typing notes into his phone. I watched closely—because it was impossible to look away from Jude Keller in work mode. When he reached over his head to do some measurements at the top of the door, the tapering from his wide shoulders to his lean hips was so pronounced it made my mouth go dry. Jude was one hundred percent man. One hundred percent gorgeous man. And I was already way too attracted to him for my own good.
He turned around to face me unexpectedly and I quickly blinked a few times, hoping he hadn’t seen the blatant appreciation in my eyes.
“Do you want me to send you some door options to choose from, or do you already have one in mind?”
“Um, no,” I said, flustered. He looked a little confused and I quickly clarified. “I mean, no, I don’t already have one in mind. Options would be good.”
“Okay, I’ll do some checking tomorrow. I have a supplier who will have what you need, and he’ll give me a good price. I’ll give it to you at cost.”
I quickly shook my head. “No way, Jude. If I hire you to do this job, I want you to make good money on it. I know it’s not something you’d normally take on.” I could tell he was going to protest and I held up a hand. “Don’t argue. I can afford to pay you. I want to pay you.”
“I don’t need your money, Ava.”
“I’m sure you don’t, but I’m not going to take advantage of you. If you don’t charge me enough, I’ll just add on whatever I think a fair price would be.”
He raised his own hands in defeat. “Fine. I’ll mark it up a little. Just know I’m glad to help you out. It’s not about the money.”
I could tell he meant it, and it really touched me that a person I’d just met wanted to do that. It made me feel a whole lot less alone in my new town, and this time when I blinked rapidly, it was because I felt an unexpected sting of tears.
“I appreciate that,” I said, my voice sounding a little strangled because my throat felt tight. “You’re pretty much the best neighbor a new girl could ask for. First the light, and now you’re helping with my door. I might be a little sad when you move back to your own house.”
He took a half step toward me, his gaze dropping from my eyes to my mouth. My heart did a big, slow roll of anticipation, but then he abruptly looked away and walked toward the door.
“I think I have what I need here.” He reached back to hand me the tape measure. “I’d better let you get to bed. You have a big day tomorrow.”
I was so filled with disappointment it took me a moment to figure out what he was referring to. Oh, right, the moving truck.
“Uh, yeah,” I said as I followed him down the stairs. “It’ll be nice to get my things. My office stuff doesn’t come until Monday though.”
He walked to the kitchen without pausing. “Let me know if you need help tomorrow. I have to go to the office in the morning, but I’ll be free the rest of the day.”
“I will. Thanks.”
He was leaving. I didn’t want him to, but it was his choice.
“I need your email address so I can send you the door—”
I was still following him when he
stopped short and turned to tell me that. I ran smack into him right as he said “the door.” He was big and solid and immovable, and a little “ooomf” came out of me. His arm came out to steady me when I bounced off him, and I couldn’t help but burst out laughing.
“Geez, Jude. A little notice would be nice.”
“I didn’t know you were so close behind,” he said apologetically. His arm was still around my shoulders and I tried hard, really hard, to pretend I was unaffected.
“It’s okay. And, uh, I put my email into your phone earlier.”
“Oh, good,” he said, his voice soft. “We’re all set then.” I felt his fingertips lightly brush the bare skin of my shoulder where my loose sweater had slipped down, and then his arm dropped away. “Good night, Ava.”
“Night, Jude.” I stood still and watched him open the door, feeling lonely and forlorn all of a sudden.
I must have looked it, too, because Jude glanced back as he was closing the door, then he stopped and leaned against the jamb, giving me a slight smile.
“I’m sorry, Ava. I’m only rushing out because if I don’t, I’m not going to be able to stop myself from kissing you, and I know it’s too soon for that.”
A tremor went through me at his words. I was surprised to hear him put it out there like that, but I liked his candor. His willingness to tell me what he was thinking. I also found myself wishing he had a little less self-control.
I cleared my throat. “I’m glad you told me. I would’ve probably lost sleep wondering what I did to make you want to get away from me so badly.”
His eyes bored into mine. “I want to get to know you, Ava,” he murmured, “not scare you off.”
I gave a jerky nod. “I want to get to know you, too.” More than anything.
He smiled. “I’m glad. I’ll see you soon.”
And then he was gone.
I kind of regretted not telling him I didn’t scare easily.
Chapter 8
By the end of the next day, I was cranky and exhausted. It seemed like I had twice as much stuff as I remembered, and the unpacking seemed endless. Box after box after box, because I was determined to get it done and not live with boxes in my house for days and weeks on end.
Thankfully, the movers had been fantastic. They’d placed every box and piece of furniture exactly where I’d asked. They had to leave my bedroom furniture and mattresses at the end of the upstairs hallway, though, because I had yet to move Grandma’s furniture and all her other stuff out of the master bedroom.
I was still dreading that process and in no hurry to get to it.
Once the movers were gone, I’d spent the rest of the afternoon and a good share of the evening working in the kitchen and my “temporary” bedroom and bath. All but a few of the boxes that had been taken to those rooms were now empty and broken down, ready to be hauled away.
After that I moved on to the living room, where I further exhausted myself by moving all the furniture I wanted to donate into the dining room—which had the most empty space—and then shoving all the other furniture around and around, trying to come up with an acceptable arrangement that blended my own things with the special pieces of Grandma’s that I wanted to keep. Which I soon discovered was no easy task.
By the time I was satisfied with the furniture placement, it was nine o’clock. I was starving, due to forgetting all about lunch and dinner, but I was simply too tired to go to the trouble of finding something to eat.
I sank down onto my couch, a brown leather one I’d had for years and still loved because it was insanely comfortable. It looked surprisingly good beside Grandma’s wingback, and I gave a tired smile. It had been a lot of work, but I liked seeing the combination of my things and hers.
I closed my eyes and willed my stiff shoulders and back to relax. A long soak in the tub would be delightful, but that would mean climbing the stairs, and I felt like that was beyond me at this point. I might just have to crash on the couch in my clothes tonight.
My phone buzzed with a text and I groaned as I reached over to get it off the side table. My arm was weak and trembling, and the phone felt like it weighed five pounds. I’d definitely overdone it today, and I really needed to eat something.
I propped the phone on the armrest and forced my bleary eyes to focus on the screen. The sender was showing as “Unknown,” but when I read the text, I knew exactly who it was.
It took me forever to find you in my contacts. You’re wrong, you know. You really are adorable.
I grinned. I’d forgotten all about naming myself “Not Adorable” when I put my number into Jude’s phone. Was that only last night? Wow….it seemed much longer ago.
I quickly typed a response. I prefer your list of more grown-up adjectives.
You’re still those, too. How’d the unpacking go?
Good but there was waaaaaaaay too much of it.
I sent you some info on the doors earlier. I figured you were too busy to look at it.
I didn’t check my email. I’ll look tomorrow. Thanks.
Are you still emptying boxes?
No, I’m all but passed out on my couch.
Are you too tired to come to the back door? I’m standing on your deck.
As my heart began its Jude-induced pitter-pattering, I immediately felt myself perk up mentally. My body, however, still had no desire to move.
I don’t think I can walk that far. It’s not locked. Come on in.
I heard the door open and close, then his footsteps. I sat up a little straighter and suddenly realized how awful I must look. My hair was piled in a messy bun on top of my head—and I don’t mean the stylish, artful kind of messy bun, either. Mine was just plain messy. I also didn’t have on a lick of makeup, my pink tank top and navy shorts were dusty and wrinkled, and I’d done my share of sweating during my furniture moving activities.
Darn. I was pretty sure Jude was going to take back his claim that I was adorable, but there was no help for it now.
I looked over when I heard the footsteps move from the tile of the kitchen to the hardwood of the living room. I couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him, even though I was jealous because he looked mouthwateringly good and I looked so, so bad.
“Hey,” he said softly, his eyes moving swiftly over me. He grinned and I got the distinct impression he didn’t mind my disheveled state as much as I’d feared. “Think maybe you overdid it a bit?”
“I know I did, but there was so much to do, and I’m no good at pacing myself.” I covered a yawn. “I’ll be fine after some ibuprofen and a good night’s sleep.”
He held up a grocery store bag. “Would ice cream help?”
I closed my eyes and sighed contentedly. “Sounds heavenly. I skipped lunch and dinner both.” I started to get up, but he motioned for me to stay put.
“Don’t move, Ava. I’ll go get bowls and spoons. Unless you’d rather not have me snooping around in your kitchen?”
“If you bring me ice cream, you can snoop around any time you want,” I stated, making him smile.
He put the bag down on my coffee table. “I’ll be right back.”
He was gone longer than it should take to find the bowls. I was just about to call out to see if he needed help when he returned. He not only had bowls and spoons, but a plate holding a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and half an apple, along with a glass of iced tea.
“A girl can’t live on ice cream alone,” he said, handing me the plate.”
“Thanks,” I said a little thickly, awed by his thoughtfulness.
He reached in his pocket and brought out the bottle of ibuprofen I kept on my window sill. He shook out two and handed them to me.
“Do you need me to feed you?” he asked, his blue eyes twinkling as he settled onto the couch beside me.
“I can manage,” I said, taking the pills before I bit into the sandwich. I chewed, swallowed, and grinned at him. “Best thing I’ve ever tasted.”
“No surprise there,” he said cockily. “
I’m pretty much the master of PB&Js.”
I laughed and kept eating. It really did taste wonderful, and he was right. I needed more than just ice cream after the day I’d had.
When my plate was empty, he dished up the ice cream. I chose the cherry nut, and he went with chocolate peanut butter cup. I already had more energy, and pretty soon I was telling him all about how my day had gone. Then I remembered he said he sent me some door options, and I grabbed my phone to bring up his email.
“You can see them better on a bigger screen,” he said. “Do you have a tablet somewhere?”
I had to laugh. “I know I told you I have a ton of high-tech computer equipment, but believe it or not, I didn’t bring a single piece of it with me. Not even my personal iPad. I knew if I had anything here, I’d get sucked into working instead of getting things done on the house.”
He gave me a wry look. “You’re not suffering from withdrawal?”
“Just a few tics and jitters,” I said, grinning as I set my empty bowl on the table and started tapping on my phone.
“Here. Mine’s bigger and I’ve got the door stuff saved.”
He pulled his own phone from his pocket and scooted a little closer to me. I leaned back and waited for him to find the door information. A moment later he settled back beside me and opened the links to the three doors he’d narrowed it down to. We leaned in toward each other until my shoulder was pressed up against his and our heads were close together against the back of the couch.
And I promptly forgot all about the doors, my sore, tired body, and everything else. Holy cow. He smelled so good. And his arm against mine felt so good. He was saying something, but the words didn’t even register. I just wanted to breathe him in. Bask in the nearness and warmth of his long, strong body.
I suddenly realized he’d gone quiet and I turned my face toward him, wondering what I’d missed. He raised his brows questioningly and I frowned.
“Did you ask me something?”
“Mm-hmm. Twice.”
His face was tantalizingly close to mine, and my heart decided to get in another quick workout.
