They’d stood together against a bully and saved their crayons. She had a lifetime of stories like that. Kenzie and Nathanial. Best buds. Occasional friends with benefits. Someday they would get serious about their relationship. When they both got where they wanted to go in their careers and had the chance to think about settling down. But that time hadn’t come yet.
There had been times when Nathanial had wanted to focus on them and she hadn’t been ready. Hadn’t there? She’d dated and had even rented a place on her own in Raleigh for a training program that had lasted nearly a year. But she honestly didn’t know for sure. And she’d never asked him the question, didn’t want to ask it now.
Kenzie found that very telling.
She would rather sit here and not raise hard questions because she didn’t know if she wanted to hear the answers.
There was a problem in that motivation.
Kenzie could certainly come up with some good rationalizations such as now wasn’t a good time for Nathanial since he was having trouble with a case.
She needed to be supportive. Her needs could wait.
Their relationship had been ticking along in exactly this way for years, so another month would hardly make a difference.
Too bad her inner child didn’t agree.
She could blame all the urgency she felt on Will, and that was wholly unfair to Nathanial. Why should he be impacted because of her crisis?
Because that’s what a hero did? Ride in to save the damsel in distress?
Kenzie couldn’t remember ever reading one fairy tale about a princess who chose to step back and patiently wait for her prince. No. Princesses kissed frogs. Her very favorite version of the Cinderella story had Drew Barrymore rescuing the prince.
But not Kenzie.
“Why don’t you come over tonight, Nathanial? Pack an overnight bag and stay with me. We can brainstorm together. A change of scenery sounds like the very thing you need.”
That was all it usually took—an invitation. He’d invite himself over, and they’d shift gears and settle into their comfortable friends-with-benefits relationship.
He’d call her during the day. She’d call him. They’d get together at night for dinner. They’d make love, something they hadn’t done since Florida.
She wasn’t sure why they’d stopped. But their relationship had always been like that—if they couldn’t go forward, they just faded back into their separate lives.
And that’s what this was—shared lives, but most definitely separate.
The best friend or the hero?
“Thanks, but no can do, Kenz,” he said. “I’m in over my head and can’t handle even the prettiest distraction.”
His words were lighthearted and sincere, but they hit her with a force she wasn’t used to experiencing.
Why did she feel so overwhelmed right now?
Because he’d always been the one to do the inviting in their relationship, and the first time she’d invited him, he wasn’t available?
“Are you seeing someone?” she asked.
“No, of course not.” He frowned. “I would have told you if I was.”
She didn’t have a response except that he clearly didn’t like the turn this conversation was taking. She saw it in his expression. Heard it in his tone. Sensed it in the way he sat a bit straighter. Maybe not such a surprise given the situation he dealt with at work.
Or was that her rationalization?
He’d cautioned her against becoming interested in Will and yet didn’t want to get together together.
Reaching for her hand, Nathanial twined their fingers together, gave a contrite shrug. “Sorry. I really have my hands full.”
She felt selfish for burdening him. Why had she?
Because she wanted a distraction from Will. Definitely selfish. And desperate. No missing that.
Okay, so now wasn’t a good time for Nathanial. That wasn’t a crime. They’d been on and off for a long time, a comfortable relationship, Kenzie and Nathanial, the best of friends. That much felt solid. Shouldn’t she be grateful? Patient?
They’d get around to them again.
Wouldn’t they?
For the first time ever, Kenzie didn’t really feel grateful or patient. She was grateful for her friendships with Fiona and Jess, and Geri, too, but that wasn’t the same thing as wanting more time with them, wanting to be a priority in their lives.
Was she really being selfish, placing her wants and needs above Nathanial’s? Or was she simply discontent because she was comparing her beloved and ambitious friend, who wanted to become a partner, with a new and equally ambitious acquaintance, who advocated for his son and all families challenged with autism?
Because when she compared the two, her world shifted beneath her feet, and suddenly Kenzie’s perfectly perfect day didn’t feel quite so perfect anymore.
* * *
“SOUNDS GOOD, MELINDA,” Will said over the Bluetooth in his truck, although the outing with Sam she proposed left Will with a knot in the pit of his stomach.
Wheeling into a parking space in the lot at Angel House, he didn’t transfer the call to his cell. Melinda taking their son anywhere was an occasion for a phone call with no distractions. So he sat in his truck with the air blowing at full blast.
“What’s the occasion?” he asked.
“My parents’ fortieth anniversary. They want the family together. We’ve hired a photographer to take a group shot.”
“Sounds like fun. I’m sure Sam will enjoy seeing them.”
“Will he be okay to swim?”
“Sure. I’ll bet he’ll really enjoy the pool because he’s been swimming every day at camp.”
“Okay, good.” She gave a disbelieving laugh. “Who knew?”
“I know, right?” Will knew exactly what she referred to. When a therapist had recommended swim lessons—an important precaution for any kid—they’d both been skeptical. They could barely get Sam in a bathtub, let alone a pool.
But with the proper instruction, Sam had not only learned to swim, but taken to the water like a fish. The freedom of movement worked for him, maybe, or perhaps it was the way water muted sensory input. Will only knew that given his way Sam would stay in the water until he turned into a prune.
“You will send his swim bag, right, Will? I have summer things, including trunks, but I’m not sure exactly what else he’ll need besides sunscreen and a towel.”
The question was code for, “Please send whatever he needs to avoid a tantrum or a meltdown.”
Melinda would be at a big family party, and she got rattled as much as Sam did when they ran into problems. If there were people around, then the pressure was on to make good impressions, and that always escalated the situation.
Which meant Will would have to be selective about what projects he started at Angel House in case the day went south and he had to drop everything to rescue his son.
“One packed swim bag with a spare mask coming up,” Will said, because Sam wouldn’t go in the pool without a mask. He liked to see underwater, and the rubber pinched his nose shut, which reminded him not to breathe until he surfaced.
“Appreciate it.”
Of course, he would have to unpack Sam’s stuff the night he returned from camp and do laundry to have everything ready to go in the morning. He made a mental note to remember. Melinda may have swim trunks, but Will would bet money she didn’t have the requisite Spiderman beach towel and matching deck shoes.
“Heads up. I’ll send his stuff, but make sure you cut out the tags in anything you want him to wear.”
“Got it,” she said.
While Sam had a bedroom in Melinda’s luxury condo in the south end of town, he didn’t often spend the night there, and his interests could change fast. Spiderman beach towel one day, and Batman the next. The whole distaste for clothing tags had happened so suddenly Will had been forced to bodily carry Sam from the store wearing only his undershirt, which had a tag. Go figure.
For a change, Melinda accepted the information about Sam well, for which Will was grateful. It didn’t always work that way. Most of the time Melinda seemed to resent what he told her, seemed to interpret his instructions to mean he knew more about their son than she did. Which he did, but that didn’t mean he thought she was a crummy mother.
He knew how much Melinda loved Sam. He knew how she’d devoted herself to Sam’s treatment, even working from home to care for him. But Melinda also saw Sam as a reflection of herself, and the fact they couldn’t connect made her question her ability as a mother. She couldn’t seem to grasp the fact that not connecting had nothing to do with her and everything to do with autism.
“When does he get home from camp?” she asked.
“Friday night.”
“I’ll come get him in the morning, then. From the house, right? He won’t be with Guadalupe?”
“Yeah.” Fresh in Will’s memory was the last time she’d dropped in on Guadalupe without making the requisite phone call because that was too much trouble. “What time’s the party?”
“Early. Mom wants to make the most of the day.”
Early wasn’t a time, and Will was about to open his mouth and remind Melinda about the importance of phone calls and reliability, fundamental considerations that he resented having to explain yet again.
Will didn’t doubt that she loved Sam, so why couldn’t she trouble herself to do something so simple—make a phone call, commit to a time—that was so important?
Normally, the answer to that question was that Melinda was self-absorbed, which explained Will’s resentment toward her. Especially when, in addition to unsettling Sam, Melinda inconvenienced others with her thoughtlessness.
But another answer popped into his head, an answer he had never considered before, delivered in a gentle voice.
“Successful parenting partners respect limitations,” Kenzie had said during her class.
That reminder stopped Will dead in his tracks. He shut his mouth and quickly reevaluated.
Melinda clearly had a problem with calling before she arrived. Will didn’t know why. Selfishness. Denial. Thoughtlessness. He wasn’t sure it mattered. What did matter was how he handled the situation. He could introduce tension into this conversation that had been going along well by taking her to task, which would only make her defensive. That much he knew. Or he could offer a solution. “How about I bring Sam to your place? Save you the trip. Just tell me what time you want him.”
There was a beat of silence on the other end. “Sure, Will. That’ll work. Thanks. How about nine? Sound good?”
“He’ll be there with his swim bag packed.”
“Great. See you then.”
“Take it easy, Melinda.” Will disconnected the call. Then he paused a moment, making sense of how quickly and easily he’d been able to get off the phone.
“Sure, Will. That’ll work. Thanks.”
And a thanks. He didn’t usually get those. Not when Melinda vacillated between resentment that he’d stolen their son and denial about Sam’s circumstances and the required parenting skills necessary to fit the situation.
Skills that had to be learned and applied.
And to Will’s complete surprise, he didn’t feel irritated the way he usually did after dealing with Melinda. He only hoped the day she and Sam spent together would be problem free.
* * *
KENZIE GENUINELY BELIEVED she’d had choices in dealing with her reaction to Will. She genuinely believed she could ride out her inner child until the renovations were complete and then get on with her life. Of course, she might occasionally see him dropping Sam off, but Will would officially be out of her side of the building, leaving her with a newly remodeled agency and a bright future that didn’t involve seeing him everywhere.
Where he’d left her a beautiful floral arrangement on the reception counter to welcome her.
Where he’d hung her shingle the day she’d officially met Sam for the first time.
Where he’d popped through the ceiling to campaign with her students in the middle of a class.
Where he’d stood in a doorway and watched her until she’d awakened from a snooze at her desk.
Where he’d rescued her from exposed wires, kneeling so close she could feel the warmth of his skin radiating from him.
But now Kenzie had to question whether or not she was being realistic or if she was simply adding a windowsill to the list of places she’d continue to see this man.
At the moment, he crouched in front of the window, and the way the muscles of his shoulders and back were on display as he worked the palm sander over the wood would be embedded in her memory.
He was dressed as the contractor again, in work boots and jeans. He wore a tool belt, too, slung low on his hips, making it impossible not to notice the way his body came together in that area, strong thighs, tight butt, trim waist expanding upward in a V toward those broad, broad shoulders.
The very sight of him proved that Kenzie had been so wrong about having choices. So, so wrong.
Right from the start she’d been attracted to this man, against her will, against her wishes. And she certainly hadn’t wanted this unexpected attraction to color her feelings about Nathanial. The latest eye-opener in a string of them.
Her perfectly perfect yesterday had degenerated in a big way. She’d lost an entire night’s sleep to answering some hard questions, and she couldn’t get past the realization this situation had slipped beyond her control. Her day at work today had been plagued by distraction and an annoying lack of focus on everything she should have been focusing on—like her sessions. Then there had been all the muffled yawning in front of her clients.
Will had walked through the door on time as promised, and in that very moment, all the expectation and edginess, all the interest and impatience had vanished beneath an awareness that made the moment come alive, a feeling so utterly real that she practically hummed from the inside out.
This had definitely gone beyond her control.
The whine of the sander stopped abruptly, and Will sliced a curious gaze her way. “You are ready for this woodworking lesson, right?”
Kenzie stared stupidly for a throbbing heartbeat, as stupid as she’d always been around him.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Truer words had not been spoken. Not by her at least, but she sounded normal. That much at least was a success.
“It might be a good idea to come closer, so you can actually see what I’m showing you.”
There was just enough humor in that suggestion to propel her into motion. Covering the distance, she knelt beside him, so close her first breath was laced with a very male scent made up of sawdust and motor, of him.
He held up the sander. Their gazes met. “Okay, not hard.”
But wouldn’t she like him to be?
The breath stalled in her chest at the sheer audacity of that thought, at her inner child for dragging Will into bed.
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Oh, this was way, way beyond her control.
If the man had any clue what was going on inside her head right now, he’d run fast and far. No question.
“I figured I’d show you what to do in here.” He seemed oblivious to her turmoil. “It’ll be easy to work since you don’t have much furniture and just as easy to clean up. And it’s the first place people will see.”
“Makes sense.” What didn’t make sense was Kenzie’s complete inability to stop reacting to him.
Why had she failed to ignore her inner child so completely?
“First thing you do is put on that mask and those gloves.” The mask was an industrial-grade construction type meant to protect her face and lungs from harmful debris as opposed to the medical-type mask meant to contain the spread of airborne germs.
He helped her position the ventilator over her nose. His warm fingers brushed her cheek perfunctorily yet left her skin tingling in the wake of his touch.
Good, at least she could hide her face. She pulled on the gloves, another layer of protection. Now, if only she had a tarp to throw over her head and block out the sight of him.
“Those gloves going to work?” he asked.
She spread her fingers to display the fit. “A little big but fine.”
He inclined his head while reaching for a piece of equipment on a metal tray that looked like a trivet. “This is a heat stripper, Kenzie, and it is really hot. I mean seriously hot. You’ll do a lot of damage to yourself if you’re not very careful. Got it?”
“Got it.”
“All we’re trying to do here is strip away the paint then sand what’s left so you have a smooth surface.”
Will demonstrated by aiming the heat stripper at the windowsill then peeling away the warm paint with a putty knife. “See how it just lifts up? You want to heat the paint until right before it starts to bubble and get sticky.”
“What happens if it bubbles?”
“It’ll stick to the putty knife. Just wait until it cools and it’ll peel off. Do not touch it when it’s hot.”
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